13x02 - Episode 2

[bunniefuu]

Ah! This is my favourite spot.

SHE SIGHS
Yes, it really is very beautiful.

I'm very blessed.

Paradise Bay is more like a family
than a care home. Hm!

Pretty dysfunctional family,
if you ask me.

No-one did, Barbara.

Oh, my cousin Eloise from the UK.

Oh, I wasn't aware Nancy had
relatives in England.

Oh, we've only recently connected.

My commiserations. Still,
can't choose your family, can you?

Now, now, Barbara.

Oh, that's all right, Phillipe.

Babs is only having fun.

Speaking of which, coming to bingo?

Wouldn't miss it for the world.

I look forward to giving you
another fine thrashing.

Over my dead body.

Chance would be a fine thing.



Stairway to heaven, 67.

Quick, you've got to mark it.


with your dabber.

Oh. That's how you keep track. OK.

You don't play back home?

No. Legs 11...

Games of chance not really my bag.

Oh, bingo's not a game of chance,

not the way I play it.

How do you play it?

She cheats!

Is that the bleating of a sore
loser I can hear?



Ah, my daughter, Oona.

Oona, here!

Here. We've saved you a place.

We need to talk - in private.

Eloise has never played before.
Can you imagine?



Quack-quack!

Nancy comes across as
all sweetness and light,

but underneath that outfit beats
the heart of a scoundrel.



Unlucky for some, 13.

House!

I have house!

Miss Mitchell has a full house.

How do you like them apples, then?

Mum? Don't.

I just need to be left alone.

Hmph! Whots the sore loser now?

Stupid.

Stupid, stupid woman.

She is coming back, though, right?

I don't know.

I've never seen her like this.

Oh, she's just in a strop.

Oh, come on, let's just cr*ck on.

Well, now, Barbara, you weren't
exactly magnanimous in victory.

Maybe just give her a few more minutes

to pull herself together.

You know, collecting shells,
or conchology,

to give it its proper scientific name,

is one of the fastest-growing
hobbies in the world,

and that's why I think it would make
an excellent first topic for my blog.

Can't wait to read it, Inspector.

Right? Right.

Do you have to go over
every bump on the way?

It's not as easy as it looks, sir.

Wahey! There he is.

Why?

Why are you applauding?
Sir, you've just been discharged.

We had to come and celebrate.
Celebrate what?

Doctors say I can't return
to work, confined to home,

like an invalid.

You were sh*t, Selwyn.

You're lucky to be alive.

Sir, cheer up. Most people your age
would leap at the chance

of a bit of R&R.

PHONE RlNGS
Sorry.

Most people my age, Inspector?

Yeah, er...

So, er, that was Darlene.

There's been a m*rder at the
Paradise Bay care home.

OK, we're on the way. Marlon?

Bye, sir.

Be careful of the bumps.
He gets a bit grouchy.

That won't be necessary.

I can...

HE GRUNTS
...manage...

perfectly on my own.

Nancy Martin, 75.

She was playing bingo
in the activities room

with the other residents.

She left alone, and when
someone went to look for her,

they found this.

m*rder w*apon.

Stabbed with her own knitting needle.

It's been wiped, but there's
significant traces of blood on it.

Paramedics found a single puncture wound

to the abdomen.

It's stopped. Shame.



Whoever did this wasn't after cash.

What's this?

Looks like an old CCTV still.

Hmm.

"Jeremy Heston, Gatwick,
July 23rd 1993."

No signs of a struggle.

You said she was playing bingo
just before the m*rder?

She left the activities room at


and was found dead at 15.45.

Any witnesses? CCTV?

Everyone else in the care home

was in the activities room at the time.

Everyone?

Apart from Nancy Martin.
And the m*rder*r.

Who found the body?

She was sitting on a bench.

Martin!

I thought she was asleep, but...

Martin!

SHE SCREAMS
...she wasn't.

She was dead.

OONA HYPERVENTlLATES.

Who would want to m*rder Nancy?

So gentle and...

Oh, spare us the crocodile tears, Babs.

Mum's dead.

You don't have to pretend
that you're sad about it.

Oona.

You're Nancy's daughter?

Adopted.

Oona Martin.

And, yes, Nancy was my mum.

I'm sorry fr your loss.

Can you think of any reason
why someone would do this?

Did Nancy have any enemies,
anyone with a grudge?

Oh, come on!

No. None of this makes any sense.

Perhaps further questioning
could wait until tomorrow.

It's getting late.

Our residents are elderly,
and emotions are running high.

Inspector?

Um, yeah, yeah, sure.

We'll need a list of everyone
who was in the room

at the time of the m*rder.
Why? You can't think we're suspects?

Whoever did this is long gone.

Yeah, why don't you put up a perimeter

and some roadblocks, or whatever
the police usually do?

I'm sorry, and you are?

Eloise Mirie. I'm just visiting.

Miss Mirie is Nancy's cousin.

Well, second cousin once removed.

Look, I don't want to sound insensitive

but I only met Nancy for the first time

a couple of days ago.

Really don't need to get caught up in...

whatever is going on here.

What's going on here is
a m*rder investigation.

And I have a whole roomful of alibis.

Miss Mirie has a point.

No-one left this room after Nancy did.

Er, not until we went to find her.

Does the name Jeremy Heston
mean anything to anyone?

Why? Is he a suspect?

Just a name that's come up
in the investigation.

Why did Nancy leave the bingo game?

She was angry. I'd just won
a full house...

A full house? That's all


Which you won when the
number 13 was drawn.

How is this relevant, Inspector?

Well, this is Nancy's bingo card, right?

Now, I'm no expert, but...

it seems to me

that Nancy had made full house
two numbers previously,

when 88 was drawn.

So why didn't she shout house?

Her winning number was right there
on the monitor.

How did she miss it?

Maybe she wasn't paying attention.

A bingo fanatic one number away
from a full house?

It's not likely she wasn't
paying attention.

I've boxed Nancy's belongings

to go through back at the station.

OK, so, I checked the perimeter.

Only way in or out is
through the front gates.

Security fencing all around.

If everyone at the care home
was in the activities room

when Nancy was m*rder*d...

that means the k*ller must have
broken in somehow.

Over the fence?

Not impossible, but not easy.

And then what?

Just wander the gardens waiting
for Nancy to arrive?

Nancy left unexpectedly.

How did the k*ller know
where she would be?

Exactly.

Unless they followed her out.

You think the m*rder*r came
from inside the care home?

I think it's more likely
than a random k*ller

climbing the fence and then
just hanging around,

waiting fr a victim to show up.

But let's keep an open mind.

I have been wrong before.

Ah, fine, you're back.

He's been so difficult!

A Commissioner's work does
not stop, Inspector,

especially when people are being
m*rder*d in care homes.

Miss Bordey disapproves.

Maybe YOU can talk sense into him.

Well, actually, Catherine,
I do have a question.

Sir?
Hmm?

Does the name Jeremy Heston
mean anything to you?

This phat was found
in the victim's pocket,

dated July 23rd 1993.

July 23rd 1993?

Yes.

Oh, my gosh.

Maybe that name does ring a bell.

SELWYN SIGHS

Jeremy Heston was
a self-employed accountant

from Milton Keynes.

He arrived in Honore on
July 24, 1993.

The day after his picture was taken
here at Gatwick Airport?

Sir, you still remember the
exact date after all this time?

No, no,

I remember the next day, July 25th.

We all remember the day.

Saint Marie was hit by a surprise storm.

Jeremy Heston d*ed at sea.

He'd been here less than 24 hours

when he fell off a tour boat
in heavy seas.

His body was never found,

but it turned out there was
no next of kin to bury him anyway.

Heston wasn't the only casualty.

There was a passing fisherman,
a brave man.

His name was Clement Brown.

He saw him fall and tried to save him.

He also drowned.

His body, at least, was recovered.

The storm cost two lives
and untold damage.

It took years to recover.

So why did Nancy Martin
have a CCTV still

of a random accountant
at Gatwick Airport



Well, we can't force him
to step back.

He's the commissioner.

He's stubborn and reckless.

He cannot cope on his own.

He knows where we are.

If he needs our help, he'll ask for it.

HE SIGHS

Postmortem's in.

Confirms death
from a single puncture wound

consistent with the
metal knitting needle

found at the scene.

Angle of the injury wound
rules out the possibility

it was self-inflicted. Forensics?

The needle was wiped
but the lab found a partial print.

They're cross-checking it
with exclusion prints

taking from the victim.

Nancy Martin.

What do we know about her?

So, emigrated from the UK in 1994,

set up a charity
for under-privileged children.

The charity has distributed
millions of dollars,

most of which came from her own pocket.

Wow. Where did the money come from?
Hard to say.

There's very little information
about her life

before she came to Saint Marie.

No digital footprint,
no social media.

So, what, just an eccentric
philanthropist

doing good deeds?

One interesting thing...

The care home manager,
Phillipe Varane -

he was Nancy's personal assistant
for 25 years.

Took the job at the Paradise Bay
when she retired there last year.

From being a PA at a charity
to running bingo games

in a care home.

HE SCOFFS
That's some dedication.

Oh. Thank you.

We're still waiting for access
to her emails.

What about phone records?

A mobile phone account is
registered to Nancy Martin,

but we are yet to find the phone itself.

It wasn't on her person
or at the crime scene.

No phone?

Darlene, what about the belongings
we took from her room?

No phone there, sir.
Maybe the k*ller took it?

Why take the phone and leave
all the cash and jewellery?

We've requested the records
from the mobile company.

Any links to Jeremy Heston?

Nothing to suggest they ever met,

let alone were connected.

So why did she have a phat of him
in her pocket when she d*ed?

We'll need to check her bank
for any recent activity.

Anyone handling that much money is
bound to make some enemies along the way.

Sir, you'd better take a look at this.

Someone has been writing
Nancy Martin poison pen letters.

So I wrote some letters.

I was upset.

The language that you used
in those letters

sounded a bit more than upset.

"You cheating scum."

"You'll get what's coming to you,
I swear."

What was Nancy cheating at?

Does it matter? She's gone.

Bingo. My nan used to play bingo.

After my grandad passed away,
it was a lifeline to her.

Community.

Must have meant a lot to you, too.

Because it's more than
just a game here, it's...

identity.

Do you know what it's like
to grow old in a care home?

No family, surrounded by strangers.

You take comfort in little things.

Bingo was my thing.

And then Nancy came along,
kept on winning,

took all that away from you.

Must have made you angry.

Angry enough to send poison pen letters.

Perhaps angry enough to k*ll?

I never liked Nancy.

There was always something false
about her.

But I didn't k*ll her. I couldn't.

She was already dead when we found her.

I've just been taking statements,
and it turns out that Miss Mitchell

is not the only person that
had issues with Nancy Martin.

Three separate people confirm that

she had a row with her daughter
yesterday.

RAISED VOICES

And Phyllis here...

saw something that might be of interest.

Oona Martin was searching
her mother's room.

What fr?

So, what do we know about Oona Martin?

Again, surprisingly little.

This is interesting.

Oona applied for and received
a passport only two weeks ago.

Where was she planning to go?

Inspector?

Um, I'm here
for my mum's personal effects.

Er, yeah. Come inside and we'll talk.

That's me on the right.

My dad d*ed suddenly,
and my birth mother, she, erm,

she couldn't cope, so, erm,

I ended up at the orphanage,
and Nancy took me in.

That was her thing.

Redemption!

Oh, um, I know a good
watch repair place.

Couldn't help but notice it's stopped.

Oh, no, it doesn't work. It never has.

Family heirloom.

It's the one thing my mum said
she couldn't leave behind

when she left the UK.

Er, where's her phone?

Er, Nancy's phone wasn't on her person

or at the crime scene.

It's possible the k*ller took it.

Or it was stolen from her room.

We know that someone broke in
while she was playing bingo.

Is that an accusation?

A resident saw you in there.

And we know you had a fight
with Nancy yesterday.

So what?

Kids fight with their parents
all the time.

Oona, we know you've suffered
a great loss,

but the sooner you start
telling us the truth,

the better.

OK. Um...

I was in her room,

but I didn't break in and
I certainly didn't steal anything.

I was looking for something
that belonged to me...

My passport.

Nancy took your passport? Why?

Have you ever seen the northern lights?

I always wanted to. It was my dream.

I've never even set foot
off of Saint Marie

and I'm 35 years old.

Your mother wouldn't let you?

Oh, she was loving, but, erm...

but secretive.

I was home-schooled.

I wasn't allowed a mobile phone
until 18, no social media.

She was overprotective.

She was smothering.

But I loved her.

And I thought she loved me.

Until...?

I was supposed to be leaving
today...

on an adventure, a new life, you know?

I'd planned it for months.

You know, Mum tried to talk me
out of it, as usual,

but I stood up to her, and I thought
she'd finally accepted it,

but when I went to pack,
my passport was gone.

She'd taken it.

How do you know it was her?

She admitted it.

That's why I was
at the care home yesterday.

I went to find my passport.

But it wasn't there so I joined her
at bingo, like she told me to.

Oona, here!

I don't mean to be insensitive,

but Nancy ruining your chance
of a new life...

that does give you a motive.

The last time I spoke to my mum...

I was so...

I was so angry, hurtful,

and I'll never forgive myself for that.

But I did not m*rder my mother

over a confiscated passport, Inspector.

So, you were playing bingo.

I was with Nancy, and then her
daughter pitched up.

She looked like she'd been crying.

And then that Babs woman won,
and it all kicked off,

cos they're very, very serious
about their bingo.

And Nancy Martin?

Yeah. She wasn't happy.

She stormed out and...

it was all a bit awkward.

We were just sat there like lemons.

And no-one else left that room?

Well, I didn't like to say this earlier,

but that Mr Varane,
he did pop out for a bit.

Do you think that's important?

So, according to Eloise Mirie,

Phillipe Varane left the bingo
for five minutes.

That's just enough time
to get to the garden,

s*ab Nancy and return.

What do we know about him?

Born in Jamaica, in and out
of juvenile institutions,

petty theft, as*ault.

Then, next we know of him,
he's here in Saint Marie,

working with Nancy Martin
as her assistant.

And 25 years later, he manages
the care home she lives in.

Does that not seem weird to you?

COMPUTER CHIMES

Er, sir, we've heard back
from Nancy's bank.

Just two hours before she was m*rder*d

$100,000 was transferred
from her personal account

into an account in the Cayman Islands.

The transfer was authorised
by Phillipe Varane.

I think we need to dig into
Phillipe's finances, don't you?

Yes, I authorised that transfer.

Who did the money go to?

I'm afraid I can't divulge that.

Because it's incriminating?

Because it's private.

Since when is theft private?

The money was transferred from
Nancy Martin's personal account.

I transferred the money
at Nancy's request.

I have financial power of attorney.

It's all above board.

Mr Varane, this is a m*rder
investigation.

Who was she sending money to?

I'm afraid I can't divulge that.

You can't think that I had anything
to do with Nancy's m*rder?

Well, we know that she trusted you.

We know that you had opportunity.

You were the only person to leave
the activities room

for five minutes, enough time
to follow Nancy to her bench,

s*ab her and return.

I stepped out to take a call.

From whom?
Nobody, just...

a nuisance caller.
Why didn't you mention this earlier?

I didn't think it was relevant.

What possible motive could I have
for wanting to m*rder Nancy?

You've worked fr her fr 25 years.

I'm a suspect because I'm loyal?

You're a suspect because
you're over $10,000 in debt.

How did you know that?

We've discovered emails
from you to Nancy

asking fr a loan to cover the
interest repayments on that debt.

And when she asked
what the debt was for,

you wouldn't say. Why not?

I was embarrassed.

I had made some...

poor financial choices.

She refused to give you a loan,
didn't she?

So you just took it, to pay the debt.

But then she found out.

You know how I met Nancy?

I tried to rob her.

She was just another rich tourist,
and all I had was an empty belly...

and a Kn*fe.

But she was as tough as nails.

Took that Kn*fe from me
like I was a baby.

All she had to do was call
the police and my life was done.

You know what she did?

She bought me lunch,

gave me a job,

a purpose.

Nancy Martin gave me my life.

The idea that I would m*rder her
for money...

is contemptuous.

Let's check his phone records.

He said he took a call.

Let's confirm that part of his story
before we believe the rest.

So, we have 18 people
who were all in the care home

at the bingo when the m*rder
was committed.

Interviews and background checks
indicate

only four have any close
connection to Nancy Martin.

Barbara Mitchell, her daughter Oona,

Phillipe Varane and Eloise Mirie,

a distant relative who only met
Nancy two days ago.

And of those, only Phillipe Varane
does not have a cast-iron alibi.

He's the only person to have left
the activities room after Nancy did.

Yeah, but his motive is weak,

and his devotion to Nancy seems genuine.

A 75-year-old recluse who spent
her last years giving money

to disadvantaged children

doesn't make for an obvious
m*rder target.

No.

We must be missing something,
some connection.

Er, sir?

Interpol has been trying to contact you.

Check your email.

Apparently, when Nancy Martin's
exclusion prints

were entered into the system,

it triggered a 30-year-old Red Notice.

Interpol have a warrant out
for Nancy Martin? Why?

Because Nancy Martin...

isn't really Nancy Martin.

Then, who is she?

Gwen Jackson was the wife
of Frankie Jackson,

whose g*ng stole £5 million

in one of the largest heists
in UK history.

A year later, Frankie was k*lled
in a sh**t-out with the police.

The very same day, Gwen disappeared.

Neither her nor the money has
ever been heard of since.

Until now.

Guys, the list of possible motives

and suspects fr this case
just widened considerably.

So Nancy Martin isn't real?

No, Marlon, it's a fake identity,

one that's lasted 30 years.

Yeah, but my point is,

if Nancy Martin
from Buckinghamshire doesn't exist,

how could she have a second cousin?

Eloise Mirie!

Not so fast, Miss Mirie.

If that is your real name.

SHE GASPS

ELOISE SIGHS

Going somewhere in a hurry?

ELOISE SIGHS

Well?

You're not allowed to smoke in here.

Yeah, and you have no legal right
to come in here

without a warrant.

Learn that from TV, did you?

Section 17 of the Police
and Criminal Evidence Act,



You're a police officer?

Mm-hm. Detective Sergeant, Flying Squad.

Although something tells me

I'm going to be taking early retirement.

I was 25 when I made detective.

Frankie Jackson was my first case.

Five mil cash. Big deal.

My partner, DI Max Jennings,
he got an anonymous tip.

There was a sh**t-out.

Frankie d*ed. Max d*ed.

Gwen Jackson and the money disappeared.

Can I smoke?
BOTH: No.

I swore that I would catch her,
which was easier said than done.



Six months ago,
an old snout of Max's says

he knows who smuggled the cash
out of the country.

This bloke went into a bank
with the code

for Frankie's safety deposit box
and walked out again.

An accountant. Him.

Jeremy Heston? Mm-hm.

So, I tracked Heston's final days

from a flat in Milton Keynes
to the bank in Mile End,

to CCTV at Gatwick
and then finally to here.

He smuggled the cash out
of the UK in a suitcase?

Yeah, for Gwen to collect
when she was ready

to assume her new identity.

Why did she get this guy
to move the money?

Why couldn't she just do it herself?

Well, cos Gwen was wanted by the police

and Frankie's g*ng by then.

No-one knows how Gwen got out
the UK,

but we now know
how the money got out.

Her partner in crime.

Obviously, Jeremy reached a sticky end,

but I figured Gwen probably stayed
in the Caribbean.

She kept a bloody low profile,

but finally I found her here,
at Saint Marie.

I confronted her.

Wanted to see the truth
in her eyes. SHE GASPS.

And I did.

When I showed her that photo
of Heston

she nearly dropped dead with
shock right there on the spot.

She offered me money, 100 grand.

All she wanted was the photo.

So we came up with this
long - lost relative cover story

while the deal went through.

And, er, it all seemed to be
going smoothly until...

Until Nancy Martin was k*lled.

And I just wanted to get off this island

as quick as possible.

So you could get away with it.

We know that money was transferred.

What's to stop you
from taking revenge as well?

I was in a room
with a bunch of old biddies

when Gwen was whacked.

Do you lot not see what's going on?

This was a professional hit.

Gwen stole £5 million
of gangsters' money.

They don't forget, not ever.

And if I can find her
after all this time,

so can they.

What are you thinking, sir?

I'm wondering why Nancy Martin
was so desperate

to get her hands on this phat,

and why she left the bingo

without noticing
she'd made a full house?

I'm confused.

Does he think Frankie's g*ng
did it or not?

Gangsters execute people, Marlon.

Nancy was stabbed
with her own knitting needle.

That feels...

Personal. Exactly.

And Nancy must have known
her m*rder*r, trusted them.

Let's pick this up in the morning.

Maybe fresh minds bring fresh ideas.

Come on, Naomi.
We've got a big night tonight.

Darlene, I'm not really in the mood.

You will be fine. Trust me.

Are you sure there's nothing more
we can do, sir?

No.

It's just I'm supposed to be going
to Catherine's Bar, but...

Oh, no, you go ahead.

We could all use a little R&R.

This is no time for
rest and relaxation, Inspector.

Sir, what are you doing here?

My job, Inspector.

I've been receiving calls about
this business at the care home.

A m*rder like this striking

at the most vulnerable in our society -

people need reassurance.

They've arranged a town hall.

I need a full briefing.

You're going to a town hall, sir?

Why wouldn't I?
I am the Police Commissioner.

Sir, I think what Marlon
is trying to say is,

surely this is a duty
that can be delegated.

Delegated to whom, Inspector? You?

Not somebody that almost recently d*ed

from a g*nsh*t wound, sir.

I will not be treated like an invalid.

Do I make myself clear?

Sir, no-one's saying you're an invalid.

We're just worried you might be
pushing yourself a little hard.

If you'd just let us help...

I do not require any help.
I am perfectly fine!

DOOR BANGS, HE GASPS

Sorry.

Sir? Sir? Sir?
SELWYN STAMMERS.

Oh! Sir!

Sir. Sir, come over.

OK, er, Naomi, call an ambulance.

No, no, no. No, no, no.

I'm... I'm OK.

I... I... I was just...
I was just startled.

Sir, you are not OK.

At least let us call your Doctor.

OK. OK.

Say it.

MIMICS: I told you so!

I have nothing to say.

Except this.

How do you expect people to care for you

if you will not care for yourself?

You are right.

And I'm sorry.

Hmm. Oh, it's not me
you have to apologise to.

Er, sir, there's no need to apologise.

Um, I just came to...

Well, I'm just glad you're OK.

Wait, Inspector.

The town hall.

I will need to delegate after all.

You want me to do it, sir?

I hate to ask, Inspector.

No.

No, not at all. Don't be silly.
I'd be happy to.

I hate to ask because
it will require tact,

skill and diplomacy.

Qualities you are...

sadly lacking.

Well, I'll do my best
not to let you down, sir.

I'd appreciate that, Inspector.

Oh, hey!

It's the old g*ng.

HE CHUCKLES
Do you miss them, sir?

They are like family, Inspector.

Perhaps it's time
you spoke to your daughter.

Oh, don't be ridiculous.

Why would I bother Andrina
over nothing?

Sir?

Do you ever hear from Florence?
Is she OK?

Is she happy?

She's in witness protection.

That's all either of us need to know.

For her safety.

Witness protection.

Huh!

Inspector?

Well, that's what you do
when you want to protect someone

who's wanted by dangerous people,
isn't it?

You... you make them disappear,
like Gwen Jackson disappeared,

assumed an identity,
became Nancy Martin.

Except you're still not safe, are you?

Because they still want to k*ll you,

and they'll never stop searching
for you unless...

They think you are already dead.

Of course!

That's brilliant, sir!

Of course that's what you do!

Naomi? Yeah, if you're at
Catherine's Bar, wait there.

I'll meet you there.

Glad I could help.

There is one other person
that Nancy Martin,

or rather Gwen Jackson, knew
and trusted on Saint Marie -

Jeremy Heston.

Um, er, Jeremy Heston is dead.

But what if he's not?

What if it was just made to look
like he was dead

so no-one would come looking fr him?

He drowned, sir.
There were witnesses.

A man d*ed trying to save him.

Clement Brown's body was discovered
but Heston's never was.

Coincidence?

You think he staged his own drowning?

Isn't... isn't that risky?

Well, if I'd stolen £5 million
from a crime syndicate,

I'd do whatever it took to stop them
looking for me. Wouldn't you?

Wait, is that a new dress?

Er, maybe.

Are you wearing perfume?

Am I interrupting something?

Well, Darlene and I were...

Never mind. It's not important.

Let's say Jeremy Heston faked his death.

Why come out of hiding
all these years later?

Because Eloise Mirie tracked dawn
Gwen Jackson,

the one other person who knew

about Jeremy Heston
faking his own death.

Once Eloise turned up,
Nancy became a liability.

As long as she was alive,
his secret was no longer safe.

So you think he k*lled her
to avoid being exposed?

I think he's tying up loose ends,

and Nancy Martin might not be
the only one.

I'm sorry, Inspector,

but this all sounds rather fantastical.

Gangsters, fake identities,
missing millions?

Did you never wonder where
Nancy's money came from?

Nancy was independently wealthy.

Nancy Martin does not exist.

She never did.

It was an elaborate fictional identity

created by Gwen Jackson.

Fingerprints do not lie.

So you think this Jeremy Heston
k*lled her?

If we're right and he is still alive,

he would have motive.

Why are you telling us all this,
Inspector?

Jeremy Heston has k*lled once before
to protect his secret.

It's very possible he might k*ll again.

You think we're targets? Why?

Neither of us had heard of this man
until you told us just now.

Mr Heston might not know that.

He might think Nancy shared her secrets

and his with you.

We'd like you to consider
police protection.

She'll take it. What?

This is crazy.
Nobody is trying to k*ll me.

If there's the slightest chance
you're at risk...

Nancy would have wanted this.

Darlene is with Oona now.

Was Phillipe a bit... overprotective
of Oona back there?

Oh, he's in love with her.

It's pretty obvious.

Is it?
SHE LAUGHS.

Hey, er...

I'm sorry I ruined your date night.

It's OK. He wasn't my type.

Not sure why I let Darlene
talk me into it, to be honest.

Don't use work as an excuse
to avoid living your life.

I learnt that the hard way.

You deserve a little fun too.

Just a few concerned citizens.
How hard can it be?

Please, please, everybody...
Please, guys, please.

I assure you there is no random k*ller

going round care homes
murdering people, OK?

However, it is possible
that there is a single, focused,

extremely capable m*rder*r at large.

WORRlED EXCLAMATIONS.

BOTH: So about the town hall...
PHONE RINGS.

Can we please just never mention it
again, OK?

HE GROANS

CALL DISCONNECTS

Er, you mentioned some news?

Yeah. Phillipe Varane, he said
he took a nuisance call.

His phone records show
he didn't make or receive

any phone calls during that time.

So if he wasn't making or receiving
a phone call,

what was he doing?

PHONE BUZZES

It's Darlene.

Sir, Jeremy Heston has made contact.

I've been monitoring
Oona's email and phone.

This came in at 5.35am
from an anonymous sender.

I didn't recognise it at first
because it went straight to junk.

"I'm sorry about Gwen."

"The past catches up with us all."

"I hope you can forgive me. JH."

This doesn't make any sense.

Why is he asking for my forgiveness?

What do we do?

Reply.

Sir, I...?
What?

Type, "So what happens now?" OK.

This is too dangerous.

Don't worry, I'm sure
he's not going to re...

COMPUTER CHIMES

"It's over."

"You'll never hear from me again."

Huh.

What are you thinking, sir?

I'm thinking we should go
and tell Mr Varane the good news.

Gone?

You mean left the island?

It appears so.

Appears? You're not sure?

Well, we only have his word fr it,
of course, via email.

And you're going to accept that?

Oh, I'm confident you won't be
receiving any more messages

from Jeremy Heston.
How can you be sure?

Oh, I'm asking him not to, via email.

COMPUTER PlNGS.

Very clever, Inspector.

Wait.

You sent those emails?

Why? Why would you do that?

Oh, I think Mr Varane has done more
than send a few emails.

Phillipe?

I'll make a full confession.

Confession? For what?

I did it, Oona.

I m*rder*d Nancy.

That... that's not possible.

I did.

And I don't have to explain myself...

to you...

or anyone.

Start taking this all down, sir?

No. No, um...

Let's wait till we get a signed
confession first, Marlon.

Good to have a confession.

Wraps everything up in a nice neat bow.

Yeah, maybe.

All right, here we go.

What is it, Inspector?

Our suspect has motive, means

and is the only person with opportunity.

The only person to leave that room.

That's not strictly true, though, is it?

Nancy Martin left the room,

when she had every reason to stay.

Listen, Nancy was a bingo fanatic.

When the number 88 came out,
she made a full house.

That's like the Holy Grail of bingo,

yet she didn't say anything.

Does that not seem weird to you?

Of all the strange things in this case,

it's the bingo you find weird?

Not the nice old woman that turned
out to be a gangster's wife?

Or the long - lost cousin
who turned out to be

a police officer with a grudge?

Don't forget Jeremy Heston,
who was dead then alive,

then impersonated,
then dead all along.

You're right, Marlon.

This bloke went into a bank
with the code

for Frankie's safety deposit box
and walked out again.

I never liked Nancy.

There was always something false
about her.

It is all about Jeremy Heston.

When I showed her that photo
of Heston,

she nearly dropped dead with shock.

Because if he was impersonated,
then that would mean...

Neither her nor the money has
ever been heard of since.

That's the secret.

That's what Nancy
was so desperate to hide.

But why? What did he do?

There was a passing fisherman.

All she wanted was the photo.

Have we got a magnifying glass?

Ha-ha! There it is!

I no plain sight, if you know
what you're looking for.

What are you looking for?

Motive.

I know why Nancy was so desperate
to get her hands on this photo.

I stepped out to take a call.

I m*rder*d Nancy.

I have house!

And why she didn't say anything
when she made a full house.

Marlon, er, Phillipe Varane's phone.

I know we said he didn't make or receive

any phone calls that day,

but check specifically
if he received any video calls

around the time of Nancy's death.

And, Darlene, I need you to get
a death certificate

fr this person ASAP.

Shall I gather the suspects?

Marlon, let me guess.

All video call data has been deleted.

Yes. How did you know?

Because I am absolutely certain

that Phillipe Varane did receive
a video call that day,

a message from almost beyond the grave.

We just need to make a stop
at the care home pond first.

The pond? Why?

Just got to do a spot of fishing.

Aha!

Nancy's phone.

Why'd the k*ller throw it in the pond?

The k*ller didn't. Nancy did.

Shall we talk to the suspects?

Nancy Martin believed in second chances,

in the power of redemption.

I no fact, she didn't just
believe it, she lived it.

The last 30 years of her life

were her great second chance.

Because Nancy Martin was,
in a previous life,

Gwen Jackson, gangster's wife.

Who knows how long she was planning
her escape?

But when her moment came, she took it,

along with £5 million.

Nancy then dedicated her life
to giving others

the second chance
that she'd taken for herself.

A teenage street thug
who tried to steal her purse.

A young orphan girl
plucked from obscurity.

Her charity helped change lives
for the better.

Does it matter how it was funded?

I mean, no-one got hurt, right?

Except that's not quite true.

Jeremy Heston d*ed,

the man Frankie's g*ng thought
was responsible

fr stealing their money,

drowned tragically
in an accident at sea.

And that, as far as the g*ng
was concerned, was that.

Someone else paid a high price

for Jeremy's life and death.

There was a passing fisherman,
a brave man.

His name was Clement Brown.

Clement Brown d*ed trying to save
the life of a stranger.

A man that would do
any daughter proud.

Isn't that right, Oona?

Clement Brown had one child, a daughter,

whose life was defined by Jeremy Heston,

the man her father d*ed trying to save.

My dad d*ed suddenly.

Nancy adopted you, and for 30 years
you and Nancy were happy.

She was overprotective, secretive,

but she loved you,

and that was enough.

Until Eloise Mirie showed up

with a CCTV still of Jeremy Heston
at Gatwick Airport.

And in that moment, a fuse was lit

that led directly
to Nancy Martin's m*rder.

I was just doing my job.

You were blackmailing Nancy,
and it worked.

She was so desperate for that photo,

desperate enough to pay $100,000 for it.

And it went quite smoothly at first.

You got your money, Nancy got her photo.

She planned, we assume,
to destroy it immediately,

but she was interrupted.

So she stuffed it away,

planning to get back to it
the moment she could.

But that moment never came,

because someone else saw
the photo first,

the one person Nancy was trying
to hide it from -

her daughter Oona.

Nancy knew you were planning to travel,

but when Eloise made contact,
she got spooked.

Nancy took your passport,
not realising it would lead

to catastrophe,

because while looking
for your passport...

you found the one thing

Nancy was so desperate
to keep from you.

The instant you saw this phat,
you knew the truth.

The secret that neither the police
nor Frankie's g*ng ever realised.

Jeremy Heston never existed.

It was an elaborate fake identity.

No-one knew how Gwen got
out of the UK undetected.

The answer - she did it in plain sight.

This is Gwen Jackson.

But in order fr Nancy Martin to exist,

Jeremy Heston had to die.

So Gwen faked his death at sea.

But what she didn't plan on was
Clement Brown diving in after her

to try and save her
and drowning in the attempt,

leaving behind an orphaned daughter...

fr which Nancy spent


Wait.
CLEARS HER THROAT.

So, Jeremy Heston is Gwen in disguise?

How could she tell from that photo?

I mean, I couldn't and I've been
chasing Gwen for nearly all my life.

You didn't know
what you were looking for,

but Oona spotted it straight away.

A family heirloom.

A broken watch.

It's the one thing my mum said

she couldn't leave behind
when she left the UK.

One of the hardest parts of this case
has been the lack of motive,

but it's right here in this phat.

Nancy was responsible
for your father's death,

and that, Oona, is why you m*rder*d her.

Oona was in the room with me
the whole time.

She was literally two feet away.

She d*ed on the bench where I found her.

Nancy did die on the bench,

but she was stabbed
right here in this room,

in front of all of you.

You were in shock,
couldn't think straight.

You came to confront Nancy
with the photo...

Oona, here.

With the truth.
We've saved you a place.

All of her worst nightmares coming true,

all thoughts of bingo driven
from her mind.

Maybe she tried to explain,
to apologise, but it was too late.

You saw the truth in her eyes
and you m*rder*d her.

SHE GRUNTS, GASPS FAlNTLY.

Impossible.

We would have noticed.

Maybe you would have noticed,

if you hadn't finally beaten Nancy
at bingo.

Ha - ha! House!

No, this makes no sense.

Nancy walked out of here perfectly fine.

Oona never meant to get away with it.
Did you?

But the m*rder was covered up

by the victim herself.

Mum?

Don't. I need to be alone.

Nancy knew she would die
the moment the needle was removed,

so she only had a few minutes to act

to protect the daughter
she so cherished.

So she stood up, she walked out of here,

seemingly OK,

as far from the scene of
the real crime as possible.

She was trying to save you
from your actions.

But she knew she was about to die,

so she took out her phone...

and she made a video call

to someone she trusted
would do whatever it took

to protect you.

Oona. I need you to protect Oona.

She explained what had happened...

and she gave certain instructions.

And when she'd finished,
she took the phone

and she threw it into the pond,

to destroy any evidence
that the call had happened,

evidence that she'd sent a message
from almost beyond the grave,

asking fr help in covering up
her own m*rder.

She removed the knitting needle.

And with the last of her strength,

she wiped it
to remove your fingerprints.

NEEDLE CLATTERS

I no her last living act...

she organised a guardian angel
to watch over you.

She even brought Jeremy Heston
back to life

so that Nancy's m*rder
could be pinned on a man

who never even existed.

And when that failed, you simply
took the blame yourself.

Why would you do that?

Nancy asked me to protect you...

and to let you know...

she's sorry...

and that she loved you...

always.

You did it... for her?

Not just for her.

Congratulations, Inspector.

Oh, thank you, sir.

Although this case has been
a little bittersweet, if I'm honest.

I was talking about your performance
at the town hall.

I've been deluged with
complaints, Inspector.

Deluged.

Yeah, sorry, sir.

Public speaking isn't really
my strong suit.

No?

Sir?

There's somebody here to see you.

Andrina!

What are you doing here?

Oh, I don't know.

What do you think I'm
doing here, Commissioner?

You were sh*t!

Catherine called her.

You came to look after me?

Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

First, I just want to reassure myself

that you're not about to drop dead.

After that, we'll see.

HE CHUCKLES

Let me take it. I've got it.

Come on. OK.

All these chefs are ready
to cook up a storm.

So he was holding a competition
to find his next head chef.

How did someone manage to poison him
without poisoning themselves?

Again? Another girls' night out?
You aren't invited.

One of the chefs, we were best friends.

You're never going to
forgive me, are you?

Some things are better left in the past.

Retract your statement to the police
about my wife.