06x03 - The Impossible m*rder

[bunniefuu]

Sorry!

I'm coming!

Sorry, I'm coming!

Sorry, sorry...

Sorry.

Bit of an ordeal locking the
station. Couldn't find my keys.

- Er, shall we?
- Absolutely.

Merci.

♪ Wonderful world, beautiful people

♪ You and your girl

♪ Things could be pretty

♪ But underneath this
there is a secret... ♪

- Good evening. - Welcome to La Maison
Cecile. We've been expecting you.

My name is Elliot Taylor.
This is my wife, Linda.

Humphrey Goodman. Er, this is
my... Erm, er, this is Martha.

- Hello.
- Let's get you up to the hotel.

♪ Girl and boy Let us try
to give a helping hand

♪ This I know and I'm sure

♪ That with love we all
could understand... ♪

Irie. This is Mr and
Mrs Goodman checking in.

Oh, we aren't actually married.

Elliot will take your bags to your room.

Now, if there's anything you
need, you just let us know.

Welcome to La Maison Cecile.
Mr Goodman. Mrs Goodman.

Yes, we aren't, erm... or
rather, er, she isn't my...

So if I could just take a copy

- of the credit card that you booked with.
- Yes, of course.

Oh! Cecile Dumas. Is this
who the hotel's named after?

That's right, madam.

Her husband was a very rich
plantation owner from Saint Marie.

He bought the island and built
this house to show her how much

he loved her.

There you go, sir. You are in room six,

which is just up the
stairs and to the right.

- I hope you enjoy your stay.
- Thank you.

Oh...

Oh, it's lovely.

- Oh, wow!
- Oh, this is perfect, Humphrey.

Right. I'm going to go and unpack.

OK.

- Good evening.
- Hi!

There you go, and in addition
to what is on the menu,

we also have our house speciality.

Grilled fresh lobster.
I highly recommend it.

I'll just get you an ice
bucket for your wine.

Oh, damn it!

- What's that? - I saw him earlier.
One of the guests, I think.

- (Had a bit too much to drink.) - Oh,
dear. - What's going on? - Nothing.

- Everything's fine.
- You're drunk. - No, I'm not!

Samuel, get Ernestine to make him
a sandwich -- he needs to sober up.

- Get off me. - Go upstairs.
The guests will hear you.

All right. I'm going.

So this time next week,
you'll be back in London.

Yeah. New job. New start.
It's all rather exciting.

I am going to miss Saint Marie, though.

And you.

It's been lovely, our
little holiday romance.

Who'd have thought it, eh?

All those years ago, you serving
me coffee and a blueberry muffin.

- Here we are.
- Yeah. Here we are.

To... chance encounters.

To chance encounters.

What the hell was that?

- What's going on?
- Excuse me. Sorry.

Er, stay here, keep an eye on the guests.

Ernestine...?

It's Charlie...

Oh, God.

He's dead.

He's been stabbed --
directly to the abdomen.

Oh, Charlie...

Is he a guest?

No. He's my brother.

Gosh, I'm so sorry.

Looks like someone broke in,
possibly looking for something,

when they got interrupted by your brother.

- Are there any valuables here that might
have been taken? - Not that I can think of.

They didn't take the laptop.

What about his watch? It was his father's.

- No watch.
- We should call the police.

Er, actually, um, I AM the police.

Sorry. Should've mentioned.

I'm Detective Inspector Humphrey
Goodman. There's no wallet either.

Ernestine, when you came upstairs,
did you see anyone else up here?

- No-one.
- Apart from the main staircase,

what other points of access
are there to this floor?

None. Do you think whoever did
this might still be in the hotel?

I doubt it. I imagine
they'd have wanted to get

out of here as quickly as possible.

But there is a chance they
might still be on the island.

So if you're mooring a boat here,
the only place is the jetty?

Yes, the rest of the
shoreline's too rocky.

- No beaches on the island?
- No.

Can't see a boat...

No. Neither can I.

The k*ller must still be on the
island. Now, how did they get in?

So which one's Charlie's room?

That's it, there.

Inspector?

Here...

Oh, sorry. No, I should be doing that.

Don't be silly. You've had a shock.

Did you find anyone?

No sign of anyone or any boat.

But there's not much more
any of us can do tonight.

The paramedics won't be able
to head over until the morning.

And I'll arrange for my
colleagues to join me first thing.

In the meantime, I suggest
everyone heads to bed.

And make sure the doors and
windows are locked, just in case.

I'll have to secure the crime scene.

So I'll need all the keys
you have to Charlie's room.

- And the master, if there is one.
- I'll get them.

Are you all right?

Me? Yeah, I'm fine, OK.

Martha, I couldn't borrow your
brain for a minute, could I?

So... So that's the balcony
belonging to the victim's bedroom.

Whoever k*lled him climbed
up there and broke in.

Here's the thing. Look...

What am I looking at?

- The flowerbed.
- There aren't any footprints.

Exactly. The soil's still perfectly raked.

And if someone HAD climbed up there,

there'd be signs of damage --
broken flowers, ripped stems.

But there's not a petal out of place.

So what are you saying?

Someone has staged that crime scene
to look like a burglary gone wrong,

committed by some unknown intruder.

So there WASN'T an intruder?

No, I don't think there was.

In which case, you think it's
someone from inside the hotel

- who k*lled him?
- I do.

Except, if that is the case...

.. then, there's a small problem.

Now, I noticed the victim
fall down the stairs.

You thought he'd had too much to drink.

Later on, I saw him come
back from the kitchen,

go through the dining room with
a sandwich and go upstairs.

Ten minutes later,
Ernestine, the hotel chef,

went upstairs and discovered the body.

Which is when we heard the scream
and you went to investigate.

At which point, everyone in the
hotel, apart from Ernestine,

was downstairs. All the guests
were with you in the dining room

and all the staff were
here in the hallway.

Then, I suppose one of them was
already up there waiting for him.

Or they snuck upstairs after
the... victim went into his room,

k*lled him, and then snuck back down again

before the body was discovered.

Yeah, but that's the thing, you see.

There's no other way up to his
room apart from this staircase.

And I had full view from
our table in the dining room

the entire ten minutes.

I would've noticed anyone going
up and coming back down again.

- And I didn't. - Well, then, how
did one of them manage to do it?

- Inspector. The keys you asked for.
- Thank you.

Mrs Taylor, I wonder -- was the
deceased a smoker, do you know?

Only, I found a packet of
cigarettes on his bedside table.

Not since I'VE known him.

It's just that they look like
they're really rather out-of-date.

Was there anything else?

Nothing else. Thank you.

Ooh.

Sorry. Was trying not to wake you.

So I have to work, I'm afraid.

Not quite what I had planned
for our last weekend together.

- Probably best if I head back to the
mainland. Leave you to it. - Yes.

See you tonight, though?

Yeah, of course.

You might want to move that bag, though!

Bye.

So Martha's leaving the island?
It's such a shame, sir.

Yes, it's all rather
disappointing. Nonetheless,

a m*rder has been committed and
we have a duty to solve it.

- So what do we know?
- What we know, Florence, is the victim

is a man named Charlie Taylor.

His body was discovered last
night at ten minutes past ten

by the hotel chef. A single
s*ab wound to the abdomen

seems to be what did for him.

A 2cm non-serrated Kn*fe, by my reckoning.

There's no sign of it at the scene.

To all appearances, it looks
like an intruder climbed up to

the balcony outside Mr Taylor's room,

broke in and was interrupted mid-robbery.

- But you don't think that's the case, sir?
- No, I do not, JP.

The flowerbeds and trellising
beneath Mr Taylor's room

show no signs of disturbance.

So however the k*ller did
make it into his room,

it certainly wasn't via that balcony.

So, what, you think it was
someone from inside the hotel?

Very possibly, Dwayne. Except
there's one slight problem.

We have a key witness

whose statement undermines
that theory entirely.

Really? Who's the key witness?

It's me.

- You, Chief?
- Yes.

What are the chances, eh?

- And the other guests were down here also?
- They were in the dining room

visible to me at the time
when the victim was k*lled.

But I thought you said the hotel
staff were downstairs as well?

They were. Except they were out
of my sight during the timeframe.

So they must've been the only people
who had the opportunity to k*ll

Charlie Taylor. I just don't know
how they managed to get up and down

these stairs without me noticing.

So, Florence, you and I
need to talk to the staff.

While we're doing that,
Dwayne and JP, here's the key

to the victim's room. You know what
to do. Photographs. Fingerprints.

Bag the evidence. And look out
for the Kn*fe that k*lled him.

Oh, and I noticed

the, er, victim carrying a document
folder earlier in the evening.

- Might be worth keeping an eye
out for that. - Yes, Chief.

So I'd like to start by
asking where you all were

in the ten minutes prior to the
deceased's body being found.

Mr and Mrs Taylor?

Er, I was in my office,
going over the accounts.

In the kitchen, clearing up for the night.

- You were both alone? - Yes. - Yes.

And what about the rest of you?

I was at the hotel reception all night.

I was down in the wine cellar.

But there wasn't anyone with me.

Ernestine, before you headed
upstairs, where had you been?

Out here.

It gets hot in that kitchen,
and I needed some air.

So, to be clear, none of you have
an alibi during the ten minutes

in which the victim was k*lled? OK.

Did anyone else see Charlie before
he went upstairs to his room?

When he came into the kitchen
to collect the sandwich,

Elliot asked me to make him.

He took the sandwich and left?

- Yes, he went straight up.
- You saw him as well?

Thank you, Ernestine.

Does anyone know why Mr
Taylor had been drinking?

It was not like Charlie at all.

I saw him returning from the jetty
at the start of the evening.

Does anyone know where he'd been?

Looked like he had a folder with him.

And how had things been with
him recently? Any fallings-out?

Not as far as I'm aware.

And the deceased ran the hotel with you?

Not really. I mean, he had a share in it.

But Charlie moved away about 20 years ago.

Our parents owned the place originally.

We took it over from them.

Charlie was involved in the early days,

when I was off at university.

But then he just got a
bit bored with it all.

It wasn't really Charlie's
thing, was it, love?

- No.
- When did Charlie come back?

- About three months ago.
- Did he often visit?

We hardly ever saw him, to be honest.

His room was always here if he wanted it.

- So why did he come back now?
- I have no idea.

I had wondered if he might have
got himself in a spot of bother.

Always lived a little on
the edge, did Charlie.

- How long was he planning to stay?
- Didn't say.

And what did Mr Taylor do for a living?

I know he travelled around a fair bit.

Did some volunteering here and there.

And what about everyone else -- how
well did you all know the deceased?

I met him about three months
ago when he first arrived.

Me too.

I met him when I started working at
the hotel a couple of months back.

Ernestine?

It was Elliot and Charlie's
parents took me on here.

I've known them most of their lives.

I see.

Erm, I think that's all for now.

We'll need a room to base
ourselves in while we're here.

Yeah.

OK, thank you.

You've all been very... helpful.

Right then, Florence, let's
work through what we know.

Erm...

Sir?

Sorry... erm... Erm, our victim...

Charlie Taylor. 50 years of age.

Initial checks with immigration
show he arrived on Saint Marie

three months ago from Sudan.

Yes, recently returned
home to the family nest,

but interestingly, no-one
seems to know why he came back.

Which leads us to our suspects...

The victim's brother -- Elliot Taylor.

45. He studied hospitality
and catering in Paris.

And he's been running the
family hotel since he graduated.

And while he may be the
younger of the two brothers,

it seems Elliot is the more
responsible of the pair.

Linda Taylor...

49. She and the victim's brother
met when he was studying in Paris.

They moved back after
graduation and got married.

Around the same time
the victim moved away.

Next is Samuel Palmer.

Hotel's waiter and barman.

50 years old. Saint Marie born and bred.

He's the only suspect to have form.

He served a prison sentence
some years ago for arson.

Might be worth getting
hold of that case file.

Irie Johnson. Hotel
receptionist. 28. Also local.

He's been working at the
hotel for two years now.

Background checks show he's a widower.

His wife d*ed three years
ago in a boat accident.

Leaving him with one child. A daughter.

Goodness. Poor guy.

Finally, Ernestine Gray. 62 years old.

She's the hotel's long-standing chef.

Worked here since she was 16.

Let us not forget, Florence,

it was Ernestine who
discovered the victim's body.

Of all our suspects, she was
the only one who was alone

with the deceased after
he was last seen alive.

But would she have had time to
s*ab him and stage the crime scene?

Admittedly she didn't have long.
But it's not out of the question.

At the very least, we should talk to her.

OK, Chief, Sarge.

So, we've processed the crime
scene and I've bagged up all of the

- victim's possessions.
- Excellent.

Oh, I thought you might like to see this.

It was on the floor next
to the victim's desk.

It's a UK telephone number.

- I wonder who he was calling.
- Want me to check it out?

Yes, yes, why don't you.

I'm going to have a word with Ernestine.

- What are those?
- Pomme surette. My favourite.

- Really? I've never heard of them.
- They taste sweet and sour

- all at once. Here, let me...
- Thank you.

I used to pick these for Elliot and
Charlie when they were little boys.

- They couldn't get enough of them.
- What were they like growing up?

A bit like most brothers. One
minute, they're best of friends.

Next, they can't stand
the sight of each other.

- They were good kids at heart.
- Why did Charlie leave

all those years ago?

I think he fell out of
love with the place.

It suited Elliot, you know?
Charlie became restless here.

Like he was searching for
something he couldn't find.

Wow! Sweet and sour all at once.

So I'm guessing that you're
stood there cos you think

maybe I had something to
do with Charlie's m*rder?

Well, I wouldn't quite put it
like that. But the truth is,

there was a short period of
time in which you and the victim

were alone together, and in
theory, you could've k*lled him.

I know they only thought of me as
the woman who cooked their dinners.

But I loved them like they
were my own. I would never hurt

- either one of them.
- Is there anyone you think might have done it?

There was one thing. The other day,
I was taking Charlie his lunch.

And I heard raised voices. It
was Charlie and Irie arguing.

Did you hear what it was about?

Charlie was angry about something.

Saying he couldn't believe Irie
thought he'd get away with it.

Thank you.

How're you getting on down here?

Oh, er, no sign of the stolen items.

But I did find these knives
in one of the drawers,

but none of them match the width
of the one used to k*ll Mr Taylor.

You check the dishwasher?

- Dishwasher?
- Yes.

The one right behind you with
the red flashing light on it.

Someone put on a wash for just ONE Kn*fe?

Two centimetres exactly.
It's non-serrated.

It's got to be the w*apon, hasn't it?

JP. Is there something
the matter with you today?

- With me?
- With all due respect,

it doesn't feel like you're
performing at your absolute best.

I-I didn't get much
sleep last night, Dwayne.

Me and Rosey had our first row.

Wait. Your first row?!

- Mmm. - How long have you two been
together now? Six months, isn't it?

Yes, and three days.

And in all that time, you've
never had one argument?

I-I guess we just, you
know, sort of, get on.

Or rather, we did.

JP. Couples argue.

Especially married ones.

All you need to do is pick up
some flowers on your way home

tonight, tell Rosey you're sorry,

it was all your fault, and
you love her very much.

Simple.

But the thing is, Dwayne,
I'm not so sure that

it WAS all my fault.

She had her part to
play as well, you know?

JP. There's something
you have to understand.

You're in a relationship with a woman.

It's ALWAYS going to be your fault.

Now, come on, you need to start
focusing on helping the Chief

solve this m*rder.

Capeesh?

Yes. Capeesh.

Would you mind telling me
exactly what it is you know?

Chief.

- Ah, JP, is this a dagger I see before me?
- It sure is, Chief.

Erm, we, er, found it in a
dishwasher. It was the only thing

in there. And it's the right width.

So having somehow made it
upstairs and back down again

without being noticed, the
k*ller also went into the kitchen

to dispose of the Kn*fe
after they committed m*rder?

Let's get it back to the lab
when we head back this evening.

Oh, and the stolen wallet and watch,
any sign of those on your travels?

- Not on the ground floor, I'm afraid, sir.
- And not upstairs either, Chief.

OK. Er, JP, maybe a search of the
gardens when you're done here.

Those missing items have to
be on the island somewhere.

Chief? I thought I'd make a start
working through the victim's phone

and laptop -- see who's
been calling and e-mailing.

- Very good.
- And Chief...

We found the document folder
you was going on about.

Oh, yes? What was in it?

Empty.

Maybe Charlie Taylor gave whatever
was in it to whoever it was

he met yesterday afternoon.

Oh, yes. Hmm. Any joy with the
prints on these cigarettes?

Only the victim's prints were
on it, sir. No-one else's.

Why would Charlie Taylor have a
past-its-best packet of cigarettes?

I mean, these must be
decades old. Here, smell.

- Oooh! - Sir. - Yes?

You should hear this.
That phone number we found.

- It's for the Metropolitan
Police Fraud Unit. - Go on.

They've been dealing with a
spate of credit card cloning

over the last six months.

Turned out the common link was this hotel.

The victims had all stayed here.

So they called through and ended
up dealing with Charlie Taylor

about it. He said he'd look into
it. But they never heard back.

So she still doesn't know
who was behind the crime.

All I could tell was that Charlie
was angry about something.

Saying he couldn't believe Irie
thought he'd get away with it.

SHE might not know.

But I think I do! Come on, Florence.

- Er, Mr Johnson, I wondered
if we could have a chat. - Oh!

- Somewhere a bit more private,
maybe? - OK. This way? - Yeah.

Why don't you have a little look around?

Sorry, you're saying that
someone's been stealing

- our customers' credit card details?
- That's exactly what I'm saying.

And I'm also saying that
I believe it was you.

Me? What makes you think that it was me?

Because I have a witness who
overheard you and the deceased

having an argument two days ago,

in which Mr Taylor was clearly
heard asking you "how on earth

"did you think you could
get away with it?"

Yes, I remember that discussion.

But it wasn't about any fraud going on.

It was about something else,
something unimportant.

Sir. Two days ago. Text
from an unnamed contact.

"When's the next batch coming?"

The reply -- "We need to stop. They know."

Please stop wasting our time, Mr Johnson.

My daughter started school
this year. She's four.

My sister takes care of her when I'm here,

but she has a job to hold down
herself, and childcare isn't cheap.

So you thought you'd earn
a bit extra on the side?

I met a friend of a friend at a bar.

He heard what I did for a
living. Knew I needed some cash.

He said he thought we
could help each other out.

If I got him some names and card
numbers, he'd pay me a good price.

I knew it was a mistake.

So you were doing it
to help your daughter?

Would it be fair to say that
you would do anything for her?

Whatever it takes to make
sure you're there for her?

Wait. You don't mean you
think that I'd k*ll for her?

Charlie Taylor was on to you.
He confronted you and told you

- he was going to pass your
name on to the police. - No.

Which would mean you were looking
at a minimum two-year sentence.

How do you explain that to a
daughter who's already lost

- her mother?
- I didn't k*ll Mr Taylor.

I admit that he knew what I'd been doing.

And, yes, he confronted me about it.

But when I told him about Carly,

that I couldn't let her
see me go to prison,

well, he understood. He said he
would make it go away somehow.

You have to believe me.

For now, I guess we don't have a choice.

Because currently the only other
person who can corroborate

your story is, unfortunately, dead.

- You see, that makes no sense at all.
- What's that, sir?

Well, according to this,
Brompton Cigarettes

ceased production in 1993.

Which means that these cigarettes
we found in Charlie's room are

at least 24 years out of date.

Maybe he kept them because they
have a personal attachment?

A packet of old fags? Why
were they there, Florence?

There has to be a reason.

How are YOU getting on? Any
further gen on our victim?

It seems he spent most of his time
abroad, employed as an aid worker.

Spent the last three years in Sudan.

And before that he was working for
Action Against Hunger in Kenya.

Crikey. Well, that's a bit more involving

than doing a spot of volunteering.

Clearly a much more honourable guy
than his brother led us to believe.

Charlie Taylor was evidently
quite the altruist.

Thank you very much, Tinicia.
You've been very helpful.

Yes. Bye-bye.

- Chief, I've got something.
- Hit me with it, Dwayne.

I've been going through
Mr Taylor's laptop.

And I noticed he'd exchanged
some e-mails with Jacob DeCosta.

He's a local solicitor.

Handled the probate when
my grandparents passed away.

And what were he and our
victim communicating about?

It seems it was Jacob who wanted
Mr Taylor to come back home.

And I quote, "His head
is buried in the sand.

"I think it's time you
came and did your bit."

I wonder who "he" is? Elliot maybe?

Well, that was Jacob's secretary.

And she said that Charlie
had been to their offices

- yesterday afternoon.
- To meet with Mr DeCosta?

He's out with clients at the moment.

- But I managed to get
hold of Tinicia. - Tinicia?

Jacob's secretary.

Me and her... kind of hit it off
during the probate, you know?

Anyway, I got her to book me in
for an early appointment with him

first thing tomorrow morning.

- Good work, Dwayne.
- Er, er, Chief, I think you should know this.

On the night he was k*lled,
Charlie Taylor had booked

to fly back to the Sudan. There
was an e-ticket in his inbox.

He was planning to leave? When?

First thing this morning. He
was due on the 7am flight.

Really? How come no-one knew about this?

It's strange he didn't
appear to tell anyone.

Isn't it?

And why all of a sudden did
he decide he needed to go?

Something must have
prompted that decision.

Anyway, it's, um, it's getting late.

We need to get the boat
back before it gets dark.

You should get off, sir. I'm sure
Martha would be glad to see you.

Yes, it would be nice to
spend some time with her,

if you can manage without me.

- Right, I'll see you all in
the morning. - Chief. - Bye.

So, JP, you going home past
the florist's this evening --

- make things up with Rosey?
- Why? What's happened?

JP's in the doghouse. They had
their first row last night.

Well, er, the thing is, Dwayne, um,

I've been thinking about your advice.

And while I'm very grateful for it,

and you're obviously very
wise with these things,

I don't want me and Rosey to be
the kind of husband and wife that

don't talk about our stuff.

I want us to be able to
sit down and, you know,

work through our issues, you know?

- Oh, man.
- Ignore him, JP.

That sounds very mature of you.

OK. You do as you please.

But don't say I didn't warn you.

♪ Oh, Cherry, oh, Cherry, oh, baby

♪ Don't you know I'm in need of thee?

♪ If you don't believe it's true

♪ What have you left me to do? ♪

- Boo!
- Oh!

- Oh, good Lord. Something's
happened. - Hello.

- I'm, um, cooking dinner.
- Yes, so I can see, erm...

- Gosh, you're messier than I am!
- Oh, sorry. Got a bit carried away.

- But there is method
to the madness. - Right?

- Where did I put the parsley?
- Oh, er, the, er...

Oh! Um, how's the case going?

Um, well, yes, er, our m*rder*r
-- not unlike your parsley --

is proving to be rather elusive.

But, um, we'll get to the
bottom of it, I'm sure.

There's wine on the veranda. Why
don't you go and pour yourself

- a glass. - Yes, I-I
think I'll leave you to it!

This is fantastic.

Sorry about the ice
bucket. It's all you had.

I love it.

Here we are.

Wow!

You don't mind lobster
two nights in a row?

You can never have too much lobster
-- that's what I always say.

So you've been reading
a little local history?

Yeah, I got it from the library.

That story about Cecile Dumas,
it's actually really rather sad.

The REAL reason her husband bought
the island and built that house

for her wasn't some grand
gesture of romantic love.

It was because he was worried
that she'd fallen in love

- with another man.
- Really? So he moved her onto the island

to try and keep her out
of temptation's way?

Poor Cecile.

Well, come on. Let's eat
it before it gets cold.

Er, yeah, this is the, er,
first time I've cooked lobster,

- so be kind.
- OK.

- Or perhaps just be careful.
- OK. OK.

Mmm! It's delicious!

- Really?
- Really.

Are you all right, Humphrey?

Sorry? Yes.

Couldn't be better.

- Morning, Dwayne.
- Ey, ey, ey! What the blood...?!

Things didn't go quite
as I planned with Rosey.

I just don't know what went
wrong. We sat down to discuss it

like proper grown-ups. We both agreed

that it was a silly argument, and
it should never have happened.

- And the next thing, it just happened again!
- But I told you...

I know. I know, OK? You
don't need to say it.

- I should have just listened to you.
- Yes, JP, you should have.

You forget I know a thing
or two about a thing or two.

That's why I'm not the one standing
there without any clothes on.

Now, stop moping and go and get dressed.

We've got 15 minutes to get
to the solicitor's office,

and Tinicia does not tolerate latecomers.

So hurry up!

- Go on!
- OK.

So the postmortem came
through this morning, sir.

It confirms the victim d*ed from
profuse internal bleeding from

a single s*ab wound to the abdomen.

And I also heard back from the lab.

As we expected, they were unable to
recover any prints from the Kn*fe.

What do you think?

Sir?

Good. That's good, Florence.

- What've you got there?
- Victim's phone. Dwayne said there were

- quite a few photos on it. Thought
I'd look through. - Really?

Anything of interest?

A few from his travels.

But mostly from when he
was here at the hotel.

As a kid. Some of his parents.

A lot of his brother.

Yes, I can't help but
sense that Elliot feels

a little spurned by his brother.

But I don't think that Charlie
necessarily felt the same --

if he kept all those photos
of him. It's interesting.

So, to recap. We have
five possible suspects.

And now, unless we find any
evidence to prove otherwise,

our instinct is telling us that
Ernestine Gray is not the k*ller.

- Which leaves us with...
- Elliot and Linda Taylor.

The owners of the hotel.

- Samuel Palmer. - La Maison
Cecile's resident waiter and barman.

- And the receptionist.
- Irie Johnson.

But just how did one of them do it,

when none of them were seen
sneaking up or coming back down the

one staircase leading
up to Mr Taylor's room?

Just how, Florence? How
did they manage it?

Sir, you should take a look at this.

Um, that's Charlie,
right -- as a teenager?

It's not him you should be looking at.

Good Lord.

Samuel Palmer. The waiter.

He said he first met Charlie
Taylor when he started working here

- two months ago. - They clearly knew
each other when they were teenagers.

That church they're stood
outside, it's St Peter's.

I'm sure that was the church
where the fire was started.

- Fire? - Samuel Palmer's arson
charge. Let me check the case file.

I'm right.

He set fire to the community centre
attached to St Peter's Church.

He was 16 at the time.

Roughly about the same age I'd
say he looks in this photo.

Well done, Florence.

When I started working here,
Charlie didn't want anybody knowing

- that we used to be friends.
- Why not?

Because he was as responsible

for starting that community
centre fire as I was.

Only, he didn't get caught.

You're saying you and Charlie
started the fire together?

It was a stupid teenage
prank that went wrong.

And you took the rap for him?

When the police asked me if anyone
else was involved, I said no.

You served five years.
That's quite a favour.

He was my friend. He would've
done the same thing for me.

Why did you start working
here after all this time?

Let's say life hasn't been
too kind these past few years.

I heard Charlie was back at the hotel.

- I came to him for help.
- For money?

He said things were a
bit tight at the moment.

But he heard Elliot saying

they needed a new hotel waiter and barman.

Charlie suggested me. Said
he had a recommendation.

But without letting anyone
know you used to be friends?

He cared about people.

And I could see it still
haunted him, what he did.

Seeing me go off to prison.

You want to know why he kept it secret?

It's because he felt ashamed, Inspector.

It must've cast quite a
shadow over your life.

People don't often look
kindly on ex-offenders.

What's your point?

My point is, your life
hasn't ended up too well,

thanks to that prison sentence.

And all the guy who you covered
for could offer in return

was a job as a hotel waiter and a barman.

It's not exactly the greatest
of thank-you presents, is it?

You think I stabbed Charlie
because I was angry

that he had nothing more
to offer me than a job?

You want to walk in my shoes, Inspector.

Then you might understand that
I have nothing but gratitude

for what Charlie did for me.

How long have you been
a smoker, Mr Palmer?

Since I was 14 or so.

And what about Charlie
-- did he smoke back then?

On and off. But he never
really took to it.

His mother didn't approve,

so he was always too busy
worrying he'd get caught.

Mmm-hmm.

Thank you.

So what do you think, sir? Is
Mr Palmer telling the truth?

Well, he seems convincing
enough, Florence.

And if he is, the picture he
paints of Charlie Taylor tallies

with the one Irie Johnson presents.

That of a man with a strong conscience.

Dwayne, JP, what news?

So we've just got back from
speaking to Jacob DeCosta.

And the reason Jacob had
been in communication with

Charlie Taylor in the last six
months is because it turns out

this hotel is on the brink of bankruptcy.

And according to him, the
business is failing big-time.

And Elliot has been refusing to
acknowledge how serious it all is.

- So Linda was aware of the situation?
- Well, Mr DeCosta says

she's no better than her husband
at dealing with these things.

She just does whatever he says.

That's why Jacob got in contact with
Charlie. Says he's more level-headed

and realistic when it comes
to the family business.

- And that's what the meeting was
about yesterday? - Jacob and Charlie

have arranged for the hotel
to go into liquidation.

Charlie went to pick up the
paperwork to bring it back

here for him and Elliot to sign.

So that's what was in the document
folder Charlie was carrying.

But if that's the case,
where are the documents now?

Dwayne, JP, I'd like you to
search Mr Taylor's office,

- see if you can find those papers.
- Yes, Chief.

Florence, let's go and
speak to the Taylors.

- Mrs Taylor...
- Inspector.

Where's your husband?

Erm, he's, er, er, gone to
drop some mail at the boat.

He'll be back shortly.

Is everything all right,
Mrs Taylor? You seem edgy.

I... I haven't slept well over
the... past few nights -- these, erm,

help keep me calm. It's all
been a bit... a bit tough-going.

- Yes, yes. I can imagine.
- Elliot!

It's all right, love. I'm here...

- What's happening?
- We know, Mr Taylor.

What do you mean, "we
know"? What do you know?

Everything. We know that the
hotel is in financial trouble.

We know Charlie had returned to
the island to convince you to put

the business into liquidation.

- That's why he met with your family
solicitor yesterday. - Sir? - Yes.

They were shoved to the
bottom of his waste-paper bin.

Thank you, JP.

Three separate copies. All signed
and dated by Charlie Taylor.

And yourself.

I imagine it wasn't quite so
hard for Charlie to say goodbye

to this place, having been
absent for the last 20 years.

But getting you to put your
signature to these papers --

I sense that would've
taken quite some doing.

Three months I've had of
him going on at me about it.

Saying we don't have a choice.
But you always have a choice.

You can give up and go or
you can stay and fight on.

Do you not think maybe all Charlie
was trying to do was help you?

How can what he did be seen as
some sort of act of kindness?

As good as bullied me into it, he did.

Is that why he'd been drinking
last night -- Dutch courage?

So what happened next?

- Next? - Well, he'd
forced your hand, literally,

into signing these papers. So, what,

you decided he wasn't going
to have his way after all?

You were going to do whatever you
needed to cling on to this hotel?

What? No! I didn't k*ll him.

He was my brother, for Christ's sake!

What my husband is trying to say
is that we did not k*ll Charlie.

But we did take the
documents from his room.

When Charlie was found
dead, I realised there was

an opportunity to stop the
liquidation going through.

You didn't give me all the keys
to Charlie's room, did you?

Inspector, the keys you asked for.

I told her not to do it.

Later that night, I went
back to Charlie's room.

It was stupid, I know.

I thought if no-one ever finds them...

No-one would ever know the papers
were signed, and La Maison Cecile

would live on to fight another day.

We could've got through it,
you know -- this rough patch.

Busy season's just round the corner.

We could survive, I'm sure of it.

So...

Ow!

We find ourselves presented
with four suspects,

all of whom had reason to benefit
from Charlie Taylor's death.

And all of whom have lied
to us in some way or another

over the past two days. So
which one of them did it?

- Sorry, Dwayne, what are you doing?
- Oh, sorry, Chief.

I think I picked up a splinter
on the boat on the way over.

I'm sorry to hear that, but maybe
you could deal with it later.

- Of course. Carry on, Chief.
- Florence?

All of the suspects were downstairs

at the time that the victim
was m*rder*d upstairs.

And as none of them were seen
using the only possible means

- of access to his bedroom...
- The staircase.

.. then there is nothing to say
that they are not telling the truth.

She's right, Chief.

Yes, it's impossible. Isn't it?

And you know the most
infuriating part of it all?

I-I was there, I was there
the night it happened.

We're not relying on some second-hand,

half-remembered statement
from a witness here.

I-I was there,

and I saw all four suspects down
in the hallway after the body

had been found. Dwayne, please will
you stop picking at your finger?!

- It is so distracting.
- Sorry, Chief.

It's... it's really hurting
me and I can't seem to get

the damn thing out!

I'm sorry, it's me -- I'm not
really myself today. I'm not...

- Wait a minute.
- Sir?

Tell me. If you would. What am I?

Er, what are you, Chief?

I went into the woods and got
it. I sat down to seek it.

I brought it home because I
could not find it. What am I?

- I don't know. - A splinter! I'm
a splinter! Good Lord, Dwayne.

Thank heavens for your splinter.
Because if we use that

as a starting point, it suddenly
all starts to make sense.

And I had full view for
the entire ten minutes.

- He came into the kitchen.
- .. clearing up for the night...

I was at the hotel reception.

- .. in my office...
- .. down in the wine cellar.

Someone put on a wash for just ONE Kn*fe?

Looks like someone broke in.

- What about his watch?
- There's no wallet either.

He was always too busy
worrying he'd get caught.

Why? I don't understand?

Why? His phone...

Photos! They're not there.

- Of course. That's why!
- They moved back and got married.

Around the same time
the victim moved away.

Charlie became restless
here. Like he was searching

for something he couldn't find.

Poor Cecile.

The story is actually really rather sad.

- Planned to leave? When?
- First thing this morning.

- Of course it was!
- Hm?

It's all clear to me now.

- You know?
- Yes. I know.

- Shall we gather everyone
together, Chief? - No!

No, not this time.

Perhaps it's better if we deal
with this a little differently.

I need to go and check something
in the victim's bedroom first.

- Er, Florence, if you wouldn't mind
coming with me. - Of course, sir.

- Dwayne, JP, I need you to
fetch someone. - Who, Chief?

The person who m*rder*d Charlie Taylor.

Shall we?

Please, sit down.

What's going on?

You k*lled Charlie Taylor.

Oh, don't be absurd. Of course I didn't.

Please. We know what happened.

I know you didn't mean to do it.

But you did nonetheless m*rder
your husband's brother. Didn't you?

Oh, God...

I'm so, so sorry.

It was one of my colleagues getting
a splinter in his finger that

led me to solving this case.

A tiny little splinter made
me alight upon something

I just hadn't considered before.

That a person can receive
an injury in one location,

and then carry it with them to another.

And therein lies the answer to our riddle.

Charlie was not stabbed in this bedroom.

He was stabbed downstairs
in the hotel kitchen.

By you.

You know, when I saw him walking
up that staircase two nights ago,

I assumed that he was
staggering because he was drunk.

When actually, the real reason
he was so unsteady on his feet

was because he'd sustained a fatal injury.

Charlie proceeded to his bedroom.

And set about staging the scene
to look like robbery gone wrong.

But why?

Why, when his life was ebbing away,
would he choose to make everyone

think that the person who
wielded that fatal blow

was someone other than you?

We found some photos on Charlie's phone.

Something to remind him of
his past here on the island.

Family.

Friends.

Lots of his brother, Elliot.

An awful lot.

But not a single one of you.

Almost like he was trying to
erase you from his memory.

During this investigation,

no-one we talked to could
seem to make much sense of why

Charlie decided to leave
this island 25 years ago.

Charlie became restless here.

He just got a bit bored of it all.

Like he was searching for
something he couldn't find.

I don't think either of them were right.

Charlie left this island 25 years ago

because that's the very same
time you arrived on the island.

We know that after you and
Elliot graduated in Paris,

you came back to La Maison
Cecile and got married.

I hadn't met Charlie before
we moved here from Paris.

I hadn't even visited the island.

I can remember the first time
I saw him standing on the jetty

as the boat pulled in.

And... I just knew in that moment.

Straight away.

We both did, I think.

That you were in love?

We tried to ignore it.

But the more you deny something
like that, the more it consumes you.

Yeah, I imagine it must've
broken both your hearts

to have to give each other up.

But if that's what had to be done

to avoid Charlie hurting his
brother, betraying him...

.. then that's what he would do.

If there's one thing we've
learned about Charlie Taylor,

he was a man driven by compassion.

He understood.

He cared about people.

Charlie Taylor was evidently
quite the altruist.

Which is why, when Jacob DeCosta
got in contact with Charlie

and alerted him to the dire
financial situation the hotel

was in, Charlie realised that
his brother needed his help.

So he came back. We can't
know exactly what happened

between you and him these last few months.

I assume you both realised the
love that was denied to you

all those years ago was
as strong as it ever was.

We tried, we tried so hard.

Which brings us to the
evening of the m*rder.

The reason Charlie had been
drinking wasn't, as we thought,

because of his having to get Elliot

to agree to sign the liquidation papers.

It was a Dutch courage of
a very different nature.

We found out Charlie had booked
a flight to return to his work

in Sudan the very next morning.

He knew that once he'd got
Elliot to sign the papers,

it was time to force himself
to leave this island again

and resume living life without you in it.

Charlie had been drinking
that night because he knew

he had something very hard to do.

He had to say goodbye to the
only woman he'd ever loved.

I mean, that's why he was
in the state he was in.

I think Charlie, feeling the worse
for wear, entered the kitchen

that evening not because he needed
food, but to come and talk to you,

- to tell you he was leaving.
- I can't do this any more.

And in that moment, your heart
just broke all over again.

I-I imagine you tried to
convince him otherwise,

made what desperate attempt
you could to make him not go.

I think you realised

that having spent the best part
of your life living on an island

stuck with a man you'd never
really loved in the first place,

that you weren't ready to give
up on a chance of true happiness.

So you begged him to take you with him.

But he refused.

It would mean betraying his brother.

Devastating him with the revelation
that his wife and brother had

been secretly in love with each
other since the day they met.

So we don't know exactly what happened.

But, somehow, somehow,
as he made to leave,

to abandon you to a life of
misery, things got out of hand.

It was the thought of
him walking away again,

I don't know what happened to me.

I just got so angry.

I'm leaving in the morning
and I'm not coming back.

'I reached for the Kn*fe
and I threatened him.'

No! 'I told him I'd make
him tell Elliot if I had to.

'He tried to take the Kn*fe off me,
but I wouldn't let him have it.'

I just thought that, if I kept
trying, if I... if I didn't give up,

I could convince him not to leave me.

And that's when it happened.

'I didn't mean to, but I stabbed him.'

It was in that moment he knew.

He knew he had only minutes left to live.

By the time the paramedics
made their way out on the boat,

he'd be dead.

And he knew the result of you
k*lling him would not only

mean the woman he loved going to prison...

But also that his brother
would discover the one thing

Charlie never wanted him to know.

That his wife and brother were in love.

So he decided to cover
up for what you'd done.

I assume he hid his injury
then said he'd sort everything.

Linda! Give me the Kn*fe!

He took the Kn*fe and
put the dishwasher on.

It's going to be OK.

He took the sandwich, so everyone

would assume that's why
he'd been in the kitchen.

And when he got back to his room,

I think he knew he didn't have long left.

But all he cared about was
making sure that the truth would

never come out.

Charlie was protecting the woman he loved.

To convince us that whoever k*lled
him had managed to get away,

he needed to make it look like the
wallet and watch had been stolen.

I assume he also had to get
rid of whatever he'd used

to stem the blood. So how did
he achieve this vanishing act?

The answer lies with this.

Since you'd known Charlie,
he'd never smoked, you told me.

You see, I later discovered that he
did once smoke, when he was younger.

His mother didn't approve,

so he was always too busy
worrying he'd get caught.

So maybe these cigarettes were
a remnant of his brief spell as

a teenage smoker.

If Charlie was worried about his
mum finding out that he smoked,

well, then, maybe he had a secret place

where he used to hide his cigarettes.

And if he did, then maybe
that's where he hid the wallet

and the watch.

The packet was here when I first found it.

So if he'd taken it out to make
room for the items he wanted to hide,

then the secret hideaway must be close by.

There were spots of
blood here on the floor.

Charlie must've left them when
he went to hide the wallet and

the watch. So wherever
he put them must be...

.. somewhere...

.. near here.

And here we have the final missing piece.

Your scarf, I believe.

But also the wallet and the watch.

Even though he must have
been crippled with pain,

Charlie went out of his way
to lead us away from the truth

of what had happened. He
did it because he loved you.

And he loved his brother.

And he wanted to protect you both.

He knew he was going to die.

But if he could die knowing that
the truth would not be discovered,

then at least he could die
with some sense of peace.

He was that close to achieving it.

If it wasn't for an out-of-date
packet of cigarettes.

Mrs Taylor, I'm afraid we will
have to arrest you. I-I'm sorry.

I think it's unavoidable that your
husband will find out what happened.

If you want to take a few minutes,

to tell him yourself...

Thank you, Inspector.

Fancy a beer? Huh?

I better not.

I think I'm going to buy
them flowers for Rosey.

So you've finally decided
to take my advice, huh?

Ah... I guess so.

Hey. What's the problem?

Look, I just don't want it to
feel like I'm saying sorry to...

to have an easy life, you know?

Then, when you say it, mean it.

And the next time you
and Rosey have a row,

maybe she'll be the one to apologise.

It's give and take.

Isn't that what they say
about a good marriage? Huh?

Yes.

You're right. They do.

Well, then. There you go.

- Thank you, Dwayne.
- Any time.

And they ask me why I never got married.

Well done, sir. That wasn't
easy, what you had to do today.

Night, Florence.

Sir.

I hope you don't mind me asking,

but you haven't quite
seemed yourself today.

In truth, Florence,

well, you see something
really rather awful

- appears to have happened.
- What?

Last night, I was having
dinner with Martha and...

I realised that...

.. that I love her.

- And that's a bad thing?
- Well, yes, it is, rather.

Because any day now, she's
going to leave my life forever.

So what are you going to do?

As seems to be my way with
affairs of the heart, Florence...

.. I haven't a clue.

I haven't a clue.

Here in the Caribbean,
cricket is in our blood.

- Jerome Martin, 45... - Found dead
in the middle of Honore cricket pitch,

having been sh*t in the heart.

I loved my husband a great deal,
despite everything he'd done.

This was meant to be a holiday romance,

and I stupidly fell in love with her.

I'm your partner! This really
big thing about your past --

and I had no idea about it.

Chief, come on! Airport!

That's it! That's her plane! Go, go!