07x02 - The Stakes Are High

[bunniefuu]

You all set, love? We
need to let the punters in.

It's almost show time.

Is that all this is, Les? A show?

Quite the opposite, actually.
You know what they say?

You don't really know who someone
is, until you watch 'em play poker.

If I didn't know you better,
I'd say that you were nervous.

Poker isn't meant to be a spectator sport.

I never signed up to be a gladiator.

You gotta shut 'em out.

Dear God, man. What is that sludge?

I preferred it when you'd
down a whole bottle of whisky.

Course you did. Cos then you
stood a chance of winning.

Spare me the braggadocio.

Cutting it fine, aren't we, Ray?

Look at you. You're
like a walking billboard.

Have you no shame?

Silly money for wearing a
hat? You're a mug if you don't.

You all ready, ladies and
gents? Your table awaits.

Our current top seed, Bobby Rodrigues!

He's back in the final once again!

Can he take the title for a third time?

Now, our next player needs no
introduction, I'm sure you've

all read his best-seller,
The Hand You're Dealt.

It's Eugene "The Prof" Sutton!

There he is!

Now, it's her first time in the
final, the lovely Melanie Devaux!

And last but not least, our youngest
player and current number two

seed, it's Ray, Ray, Ray,
Ray, Ray, Ray Campbell!

What a line-up we have for this,
our final match at La Mirage.

We started with 50 players,
we're now down to the final four,

we'll be playing for a pot of no
less than three million dollars!

Come on, Gene. It's time to bet.

He's got nothing. You're squinting,
and that ain't cos it's sunny.

Bit of a giveaway.

I'll raise you 150,000.

Come on, Mel. Don't leave us hanging.

I'm out.

You've done good, Bobster.

Grin all you like. You're bluffing.

Maybe it's a double
bluff? I'll call you 150.

Can't fool me, kid. This
shirt is older than you are.

You're all talk!

Why am I about to bet 200,000?

I'll call your 200...

Bobby?

Bobby! Bobby!

Bobby!

Doctor says I need to
rest it for another week.

A week! It's only a sprain.

I'm going to ignore him.

I'm not your mother, Florence, but
if that's what the doctor says.

What am I supposed to do? Just sit here?

I'll lose my mind!

Here, get this into you.

Mooney's famous meatballs. You'll
be back on your feet in no time.

I'm not being ungrateful,
sir, but I've twisted my ankle.

- How is eating meatballs going to help?
- Don't ask me.

Some sort of a strange
alchemy, but in my experience,

meatballs are the cure to everything.

Whenever Siobhan's having
some crisis or other,

they always do the trick.

Thank you.

You miss her?

Siobhan? No! Not really, shack is
lovely and peaceful without her.

Yeah.

Dig in!

Delicious!

Well, you don't have
to sound so surprised.

Dwayne!

What can I do for you?

Gotcha. Be right there.

An American poker player just dropped

dead in the middle of a game.

OK, so where are we going?

Ah, no, Florence. Doctor's orders.

Eat your meatballs!

So! The victim is Bobby Rodrigues
-- a 51-year-old American.

A professional poker player.

Never really got poker. More
of a gin rummy man myself.

How about you, Dwayne?

Oh, you know, I, I dabble.

And this tournament? It's a big deal?

You better believe it. It's a knockout.

And the winner goes home
with three million dollars.

Three million? For a game of
cards? I'm in the wrong job.

Yeah, me too!

So what've we got so far, JP?

The paramedics suspect poisoning.

The victim suddenly convulsed and
started foaming at the mouth,

just before he fell down dead.

Awful. And he was sitting there?

Two aces? That's a good hand, isn't it?

Yes, but there's another one on the table,

which makes it three of a kind!

Or, as the pros say, "Trips".
Very good hand, Chief.

His drink, or what's left of it?

Ew, what is it, some
sort of kale smoothie?

It's a poison in itself.
It's like drinking pond.

Do we know who made it?

According to the tournament director,

Les Doyle, Bobby Rodrigues made
it himself just before the game.

We better check it for toxins anyway.

His cigar?

Check this, too.

If he did ingest the poison, these
are the two obvious candidates.

Poor old Bobby Rodrigues.

One minute he's holding aces, the
next he's cashing in his chips.

Look at this. These
blotches -- here and here.

His thumb and his two forefingers.

Yes, Chief.

I'm not so sure he ingested the poison.

Looks like he might've absorbed
it through his fingertips,

through something he touched or held.

Do we know if he complained of any pain or

burning in his fingers before?

Apparently he was fine, and
then all of a sudden... tombe.

Poisons that are absorbed through
the skin tend to be fast-acting.

How long was he sitting there?

90 minutes. And no-one had
moved since the game begun.

Stand back, fellas!

We need to seal off this area right now.

If it is fast-acting,

it's almost certain that Bobby
was poisoned during the game.

Which means that something here
is coated in a deadly toxin.

- Let's get the lab to check every
single item on that table. - JP!

Where are the other players?

They've gone back to the hotel, sir.

And you're sure none of you have
any stinging in your fingers?

No dizziness? Nausea?

No. Why?

Well, no, it's just that we believe
something on that poker table

was coated in a lethal
and fast-acting poison.

So just want to make sure that none
of you came in contact with it.

You think Bobby was poisoned?

It certainly looks that way, er?

Er, Les Doyle. I'm the
er, tournament director.

It's quite impossible. I
mean, logistically speaking.

The four of us, five
if you count the dealer,

were alone at that table
for an hour and a half.

There was a crowd watching.

I hate to agree with the
Prof, but he's right.

This is poker. We all
had eyes on each other.

You don't think we'd've noticed
if someone slipped Bob a mickey?

You're Ray Campbell? Youngest
player and number two seed?

You can read. Well done.

Eugene "The Prof" Sutton?

Sutton.

And Melanie Devaux?

Poor Mel wasn't just a
competitor. Bobby was her husband.

I'm so sorry for your loss.

I just don't understand. Why, why
would somebody want to hurt him?

She's right. Bobby was one of the
best-loved players on the circuit.

Mmm. So, the match started at four.

And Bobby d*ed 90 minutes later.

I'll call your two.

And in that time, did
anyone approach the table?

Perhaps to pour more drinks or...

Definitely not.

Once the game's begun, no-one's allowed to
approach or leave the table. There's strict rules.

Right. How was Bobby during the game?

Bloke was on fire.

I mean, I was drawing
dead to a straight flush.

I'll call your 150.

Sorry, drawing dead to a what?

No matter how good your hand
is, they've got a better one.

And before that, how was he, in
the hours leading up to the game?

He, he seemed fine.

Erm, we got ready here and then
we went straight to the venue.

OK. Thank you. So, what happens now?

Is the game cancelled or will
there be some sort of a re-match?

Well, Poker Masters rules state we
have to reschedule within two weeks.

Mmmm.

So that means that somebody
else will get to win

the three million dollars?

Most likely someone here in this room?

Well, you're not suggesting
one of our players...

Oh, no, no. Not at all, no.

Just you have to admit if Bobby
was poisoned during the game,

well, it stands to reason that
only four people could've done it.

So, the three million dollar
question -- how the heck

do you poison someone with
half of Saint Marie looking on?

And with all the other players
scrutinising your every move.

You searched everyone's pockets?

Yes. And no sign of any poison.

This is where they all got changed.

Right. First thing is,

find out exactly which object
on the table was poisoned.

If we don't have a m*rder w*apon,
we're groping in the dark.

The Hand You're Dealt?
Maybe I should have a read.

Although to be fair, The Idiot's
Guide To Poker might be more use.

Look, Chief, it's perfectly simple.

You have the blinds, the flop, the turn,

the river and you can
check, raise, call or fold.

Nope. Sorry! Just words.

All I know is it's about
reading your opponents. Right?

Right.

You have to look out for their tells,

but keep a poker face yourself.

Well, this is going to be some challenge.

We're dealing with a group
of suspects who literally make

a living out of being unreadable.

Chief?

Robert Rodrigues.

So! We've got a laptop, mobile phone.

Our man Bobby's a bit of a contradiction.

Cared enough about his health
to knock back the green sludge,

but there he was, puffing
away on a big fat cigar.

Er, Chief?

Who keeps glasses in a sock?

Why didn't he buy a case?

Good question.

Oh, by the way, Dwayne, I meant to say,

with Florence out of action,
I might need you to step up.

A promotion?

Well, not as such, no, I, I just mean...

Do the Sergeant's job until she gets back?

Well, yes, in a sense, it just
means a bit more responsibility,

- just for a few... - Oh, don't
worry, Chief. I won't let you down.

We'll make a dream team. Myers and Mooney.

OK, Mooney and Myers.

- You know, either way, I don't mind.
- Well, whatever...

Hey, Siobhan, it's your dad.

So, how did you get on with your essay?

What was it again? Oh, yeah,
Descartes' view of the senses.

The big question is -- are we here or not?

Well, I'm here. You're there.
Well, actually, you're not there.

I'm talking to myself.

Anyway, call me when you can.

Yeah. Love you.

Well, Harry. I think therefore I am.

Discuss.

You don't give too much away, do you?

You'd be a demon at poker.

Ah, morning, partner!

Morning, Dwayne. What's with the, er?

Detectives don't wear uniform, Chief.

Ah, but you're not technically...

"Acting Detective" is
still a detective, Chief.

Now, there's just one thing I need to ask.

Will I be getting a pay rise?

You need to take that up
with the Commissioner.

Morning, Dwayne. Where's your uniform?

And why do you have a briefcase?

Listen, that contains
vitally important material.

It's all right, JP, I know you're
going to miss working with me

whilst I'm a detective.

- Detective?
- Well. "Acting." Unofficially.

I can't believe you've
replaced me already!

But you're supposed to be...

I couldn't just sit at home while
you three investigate a m*rder.

Yeah, and does the doctor know
that you're pulling whatever

the opposite of a sickie is?

Well, actually, my foot
already seems a lot better.

Must be the meatballs.

What did I tell you?

And I've promised I'll stick to desk duty.

JP's brought me up to speed and I'm
running background on the suspects.

But you'll still need a partner
outside the station, right, Chief?

Definitely, Dwayne. Now
that DS Cassell has promised

- to stick to desk duty.
- Sir.

JP, did we hear back from the lab?

Er, yes, sir, and they tested
everything for poison just

as you asked. You got to give it to
them, they worked through the night.

So, results --

every single poker chip tested negative,

as did the smoothie glass and the cigar.

Well, something must've had poison on it?

Here is our m*rder w*apon.

- The ace of spades?
- Yep, one of the two cards Bobby was dealt

before he d*ed.

And the postmortem also confirms
that the poison was absorbed

through his fingers.

Right, and do we know
what kind of poison it was?

Er, yes, something called... one second.

Er, yes, batrachotoxin. It comes
from the golden dart frog.

- Shuts down the nervous
system in minutes. - Charming.

Where would you find one of these
fellas, these k*ller Kermits?

You know, they're native to Saint Marie.

But only in like certain
parts of the rainforest.

The rainforest? So how did our
k*ller get their hands on it?

You'd have to know the right people.

Or wrong people.

So, at some point during the final,

our k*ller was able to get their
froggy poison onto this card

without anybody seeing and then
make sure it was dealt to Bobby.

How is that even possible?

They played for 90 minutes!

The deck was shuffled, the cards
passed from player to player,

hand to hand.

So how come no-one else was poisoned? Mmm?

You think it was definitely
meant for Bobby alone?

Well, we have to assume.

Or why was he the only one who d*ed?

And how could our k*ller possibly
know that this exact card,

this ace of spades, would
wind up in Bobby's hand?

They're, er, all identical. We
open a fresh pack every game.

I asked Adelaide to pick a deck at random,

and she unwrapped it in full view
of the crowd and the players.

You can ask anyone.

Maybe we will.

So there's no way the cards
could've been tampered with?

Absolutely not. The, the box
was locked in my hotel safe.

No-one had access.

That's your story.

So it must have been
poisoned during the game?

Well, that's impossible. I can see
everything from where I was sitting.

Is there a record of the match?

We've got a blogger who does
a play by play throughout

the final, you'll find it online.

So, if there was no way
your deck could've been

poisoned before the
game or during the game,

well, that leaves only
one possible explanation.

- Which is? - The poisoned ace
of spades was an interloper.

JP! Did the lab send back the
rest of the deck from the game?

Ah. Yes, sir.

Sir? Gloves.

Ah, yes.

What do you think he
keeps in that briefcase?

It's either forensic
samples, criminal profiles,

or clean underwear.

Aha! Just as I suspected.

A second ace of spades!

A fresh deck is opened every game,

there are 15 matches in the tournament.

So that means this ace could've
been taken from any one of them.

- Of course. - The k*ller
card wasn't in the sealed deck.

It was poisoned before the
game and somehow slipped in

while they were playing.

But how? Without anyone noticing?

Well, let's get this card
checked for prints anyway.

Yes, sir. Sorry.

So, Florence, what can you tell
me about these poker faces?

Bobby Rodrigues. Born in Chicago.

Been playing professionally for 20 years.

Mm, how are his finances?

Bank balance is pretty healthy.

Last major transaction was a few days ago,

a hotel room at the Panama.

The Panama?

But the rest of the players
are staying at the Rayon Vert.

Why would he need a second
room at a different hotel?

Maybe he'd had enough of being cooped up

with his fellow competitors.

Four months ago, he married Melanie Devaux

after two years together.

She only turned
professional after they met.

Before that she was a staff
writer for a travel company called

Off The Beaten Track.

And Eugene Sutton?

Oxford professor turned entrepreneur.

He made a small fortune out
of his "Sutton Strategy".

Erm, sir, I've been looking
at online poker blogs,

and it seems like there was a big
rivalry between him and Bobby.

Right! And what about
the dealer? Adelaide?

22 years old.

Left school at 16 and worked
in London casinos before this,

her first international job.

And then there's Ray Campbell.

Ah, yes, a young man of
great charm and social grace.

All I know is he's got two
convictions for as*ault.

Now that's more like it.

And six months ago, he was suspended
for breaking another player's nose.

Does that count as a tell?

With the bad publicity,
three sponsors dropped him.

He's also got a failed nightclub
that left him owing half a million.

He was number two seed, right?
And Bobby was number one?

Correct.

Three million dollars prize
money would wipe out his debt

and then some.

And if he got rid of Bobby,

he'd be odds-on favourite
to win the tournament.

Give us a minute will you, darlin'?

Looks like you're taking
Bobby's death pretty hard.

Never heard of drowning your sorrows?

OK, let's get to the point.

Detective Dwayne Myers, and this
is Detective Inspector Mooney.

It's all right, Dwayne, he's
already met us. There's no need.

Now, do you mind if we
ask you a few questions?

You can ask.

You always carry a pack of playing cards?

Tools of the trade, ain't
it? If I was a plumber...

Then what? You'd be sitting by the
pool with a spanner in your hand?

So. Any idea who done
Bobby in yet or what?

Yes. We believe...

He was k*lled by a poisoned playing card.

Playing card?

So it could've been any
one of us that karked it?

Well, technically, yes.

But Bobby was the only
one who touched the card,

suggesting that he was the target.

Now, the question is who stands
to gain most from his death?

You tell me. You're the detectives.

Well, we spoke to your bank,

it turns out you're not
exactly flush at the moment.

Don't listen to the
bank! What do they know?

It's just a glitch.

Pretty big glitch.

Your sponsors are deserting you.

And you're half a million dollars in debt.

One big win. That's all I need.

One big win? Say, three million dollars?

Now that Bobby's dead, I'm guessing you're
the odds-on favourite for the re-match?

- Yeah, but that don't mean... - We checked your
match history. You played Bobby, what was it?

15 times. Remind me, how
many times did you win?

What are you trying to say? The only way
I could b*at Bobby is by k*lling him?

He didn't say that. I
didn't hear him say that.

Listen to the man!

Yeah, it also strikes me that
of the five people sitting

around that table, only one had two
previous convictions for as*ault.

Oh, not that again. That's history.

Pretty recent history, Ray.

You broke a man's nose
only six months ago.

Why? Because he stopped you from winning?

No! That weren't even about
poker. It was about a girl.

Do your homework. Look,
sometimes I drink too much.

But that don't make me a...

Why would I want to k*ll Bobby Rodrigues?

Besides three million dollars?

Oh, forget about the money! I
looked up to Bobby, all right?

Ever since I was a kid.
Yeah, I wanted to win.

But not that much.

So go point the finger at some other mug.

So? How am I doing? You know,
with the whole detective thing?

Am I a natural or what?

Well, full marks for enthusiasm, Dwayne.

I just wonder if could you maybe
dial it down, just a smidge.

No problem, partner. I don't
want to steal your thunder.

It's important to keep it elevated.

Commissioner!

If I knew you were coming,
I would've baked flapjacks.

I'm disappointed in you, DI Mooney.

Your DS was injured in the
line of duty, you should have

insisted on her staying at
home until fully recovered.

Believe me, I tried.

Is uniform no longer mandatory, Officer?

Or are you working undercover?

Not at all Commissioner,
I've just had a promotion.

- Temporary. - As Detective.
- Acting Detective.

What Dwayne means is while DS
Cassell's on desk duty, he's kindly...

.. offered to work hand in hand
with DI Mooney to solve this m*rder.

Well, we don't actually
hold hands as such...

I see.

Well, I can't stay. I'm
on my way to a meeting.

I just stopped by to make
sure you've got your speech

- ready for tonight?
- My speech?

You haven't forgotten?
My niece's lecture group.

Ah.

There are 13 nurses breathlessly

awaiting your talk on
the life of a detective.

I'm just putting the finishing
touches to it right now.

Good, good. Seven o'clock sharp.

Counting down the hours.

13 breathless nurses!

That's a whole heap of Caribbean for
one man to handle, you know, Chief.

Don't you think you
might need some backup?

I appreciate the concern, Dwayne.

I'll radio in if it all kicks off.

So, how's it going, Hopalong?

I've been searching Bobby's
laptop, and look at this.

Bobby sent a series of threatening
e-mails to Professor Sutton.

"The jig's up, Gene,
quit while you're ahead."

Any replies from the Prof?

Mmm-hmm. "I shan't be
slandered by a crass colonial,

- "these lies are beneath
your dignity" - Blackmail!

Certainly looks that
way. I'll keep searching.

But first, you'll want
to take a look at this.

This is what I found on Bobby's mobile!

Would you look at that?

Adelaide sent it to him yesterday.

The dealer! They're having an affair.

I, I wouldn't leap to conclusions.
A... any idea where this was taken?

I checked the time and date
against Bobby's bank statement,

and this was sent soon after he paid
for the room at the Panama Hotel.

OK, so Bobby and Adelaide
checked in at 12.15

and went straight to their room.

Mmm. They didn't emerge
for five hours straight.

And they ordered room service.

So Bobby then left at 5.15, and
Adelaide followed an hour later.

I wonder why she waited a whole hour?

Isn't it obvious? Bobby and
Adelaide was having an affair.

Bobby ended it, Adelaide swore
she'd get revenge so she dealt him

a poisoned card.

Job done. Case closed.

What did they eat?

What?

Room service. What did they eat?

So when did you first meet Bobby?

Two weeks ago. When the tournament began.

Since then you've got
to know him fairly well?

Not really.

We didn't get the chance to speak
properly till a couple of days ago.

Mmm, I can see why you're
a dealer and not a player.

That was the worst bluff I've ever seen.

I'm sorry?

I think what my colleague is
trying to say is that we have you

and Bobby on CCTV.

Mmmm.

At the Panama Hotel just a
couple of days before he d*ed.

Oh, and we also found this on his phone.

- It's not what it looks like.
- Mmm.

I suppose you're going to tell us you didn't
deal Bobby the poisoned playing card either?

What? No. I would never hurt Bobby.

Yeah, well, I put it to you that
you and Bobby were in fact...

It's all right, Dwayne. Thank you.

I know that you and Bobby
weren't having a relationship.

The room service. You wouldn't order

a pot of tea and a selection of sandwiches

if you were having an
afternoon of passion.

And you probably wouldn't
book an economy twin, either.

And then there's the body language.

His hand on your shoulder, not your waist.

Look at your faces -- you're both nervous,

as if you're still trying
to figure it all out.

So I have to ask, if
you weren't his lover...

I'm his daughter.

I always assumed that Dad was some
waste of space from the estate.

Should've guessed.

Growing up with a dealer for a
mum, what else was he going to be?

Is that how she and
Bobby met? At the casino?

After Mum d*ed, I found
a letter from Bobby...

.. telling, telling her sorry,
but he wasn't ready to be a dad,

couldn't stick around.

So you were determined to track him down?

I knew, I knew he played the Masters.

All I had to do was persuade
Les to give me the job.

It wasn't hard, to be fair.

Why go to all the trouble?

Why not just send Bobby an e-mail?

I had to find out what
kind of man he was first.

You know, get close enough to
decide whether or not to tell him

the truth.

And when you finally met him?

He was everything I could've wanted.

He was kind, funny, was larger than life.

Right! And when did you tell
him that you were his daughter?

Couldn't have gone much worse.

I, I'd been waiting for the right moment.

Er, and the first time me

and Bobby were alone together
wasn't exactly ideal.

It all came tumbling out, how I'd
had to look after my sick mum,

how I'd found his letter.

I was a gibbering mess.

None of this explains why
Bobby needed to book you

a room in a different hotel.

The island's full of poker
fans. Everyone knows who he is.

We needed somewhere private.

Somewhere we could talk,
get our heads around it all.

Why didn't you go for a drive,
take a walk on the beach?

Do you want proof?

Here.

What's this now?

The letter Bobby wrote to Mum.

It's all there in black and white.

And you didn't tell
anyone else about this?

You were the only ones who knew?

I wanted to shout it from the rooftops!

But Bobby said he needed to find the
right time to tell Melanie first.

Do you mind if we keep a copy of this?

I'm still not sure I'm buying it, Chief.

You know, the whole long-lost daddy thing.

Well, let's see if he'd told Melanie.

That'd corroborate Adelaide's story.

Or not. Ah.

Sorry to disturb you. Do you
have time for a quick chat?

- Is there news?
- Well...

Are you any closer to
finding Bobby's k*ller?

We're pursuing a number of avenues.

Now, I just wanted to ask,

did Bobby mention anything in the
last few days about Adelaide?

What about her?

Well, we believe that Adelaide
is Bobby's biological daughter.

Who told you that?

Adelaide. Well, we just spoke with her.

Apparently, she only told
him a couple of days ago.

Yes, Bobby told me. He told
her not to tell anyone.

He didn't say it to her, but
he wanted to do a DNA test,

just to be certain.

A DNA test? Wha... He
didn't tell you about this?

Yes, well, he, he told
me there was a letter,

but, well, it's not
100% conclusive, is it?

And do you think he believed
that she was his daughter?

I think he wanted to, strangely enough.

But he just had to be certain.

And did he tell you that
they spent the afternoon

together at the Panama
Hotel, just two days ago?

Of course. Now, why are you
asking me all these questions?

Do you think Adelaide had
something to do with his death?

Like I said, we're just
looking at a number of...

But Adelaide can't be one of them.

Why would she k*ll the man
she believed to be her father?

- Dwayne!
- Chief!

- I need your poker knowledge.
- Go on, then.

I've been reading the
live blog of the final.

Here's what I don't understand.

Bobby had two aces -- but
he chose not to raise.

Does that seem odd to you?

Not necessarily.

Sometimes you have to slow
play the best hand to keep

the others in the pot.

If you raise too early,
it can scare them off.

There were still two cards to go.

So he could've been playing a long game?

You see? Now you're getting it.

So, erm, I checked this
like you asked, sir,

and you were right, it
came from a previous match.

There's six different fingerprints on it,

which means it must have
come from the semifinal.

Of course, it's a knockout tournament.

There are prints matching the victim,
the four suspects and one other.

So who was the sixth
player in the semifinal?

A Dutchman named Adrian Van Hoebeek.

Now, I contacted the Dutch
police and as luck would have it

they had his prints on file
for a drunk driving charge.

Perfect match.

Excellent work, JP. So where
is he now, this Van Hoebeek?

Well, he went back to Holland
the morning of the final.

That rules him out.

Hmm. That means we're on the right track.

So our k*ller has to be
one of these four people.

Ah, one other thing, sir.

Shorty, the taxi driver,

he told me that he took Bobby
on three separate trips,

always to the same place, always
at the same time, early evening.

- Where? - To a community centre
on the other side of the island.

What was Bobby doing there?

Well, according to the website,
could have been a number of things,

Bible study, life drawing, seniors'
tango, dog training, diet club.

Well, maybe take a trip over there
this evening, see what you can find.

Yes, sir.

Sir, I think you should see this.

I carried on searching Bobby's
laptop, and look what I found.

He's got footage from ten
different poker games on here.

They all seem to feature the professor.

Studying his opponents' form?
Not entirely unexpected.

Only the professor?

None of the other players.

Not that I can find.

What was going on between these two?

It has to relate to those
e-mails in some way.

Let's do some more digging,
see what we can discover.

Will do, sir.

This m*rder was carefully planned.

Our k*ller pockets the ace of
spades during the semifinal,

coats it with poison and
then during the final

slips it into the deck
without anybody noticing.

Bobby somehow gets dealt
this exact card. But how?

It defies all logic. It's
like some sort of magic trick!

Could that be it?

I mean, magicians have all
sorts of tricks, don't they?

Ways of palming cards and
concealing cards up their sleeve.

Let's go to the library.

Let's see if they've got
anything on card tricks.

- You can't go now, sir.
- Why not?

Your speech for the Commissioner's niece?

Ah... for Pete's sake. I'm in the
middle of a m*rder investigation.

I don't have time to be
sharing my wisdom with

13 breathless nurses.

Well, I, er, I suppose, as
Acting Detective, unofficially,

I'd be more than happy
to stand in for you.

Are you sure you don't mind, Dwayne?

It'd be my pleasure.

Brilliant! Meanwhile, I'm
going to learn me some magic.

Sorry I'm late, Commissioner.

You're not just late,
you're the wrong person.

Where's Inspector Mooney?

Ah, he sends his apologies, he
had to read some magic books.

But don't you worry. I'm ready,
willing, and able to deputise.

The ladies are expecting to
hear about the life of a London

detective, not a local constable.

I, I don't know what to
suggest, Commissioner.

But then again, I certainly
hate to disappoint my niece.

Her nurses are...

.. feverish with anticipation.

Feverish?

Good evening, ladies, sorry to keep
you waiting but there's a k*ller

loose on the island, and it's my job
to track him down, so don't worry.

Detective Dwayne Myers is on the case...

Eh...

- Well? - Eh. - Go on.

The Prof's book is useless.

It's not really about cards,

it's more about how to
use poker to win at life.

Now. If I've got this right,

all it should take is a quick
flick of the wrist, like so.

Like so.

Right, hang on, then.

And the card should just...

Don't you think someone might've
noticed the k*ller do that?

JP! How's it going?

Ah, sir.

So Bobby's trips to the Community
Centre were for AA Meetings.

AA? So he wasn't always a health nut?

No. Well, apparently something
happened at last year's

tournament that made him
quit drinking on the spot.

Right, good work, JP. We'll
look into it in the morning.

Listen, why don't you go home to your wife

and please send her my apologies
for working you so late.

I will do, sir.

Good man.

Ah, nuts. This whole sleight of
hand thing is harder than it looks.

No wonder so many magicians
resort to cheating.

Cheating?

Yeah, look at this. Where's my book?

See all these ads for various
conjuring contraptions.

A fake hand. A spring-loaded thingy
that fires cards from your pocket.

And this one, X-ray spectacles.

Now, to be fair, I can see
some practical uses for those,

unless of course, they don't
work and it's all a big con job.

Wait a minute. X-ray glasses.

Yes, that could be it.

You think the k*ller was
wearing X-ray glasses?

I'm not 100% sure,
Florence, I'd need to check

something in the morning. But if
I'm right, one of our suspects

is looking very guilty indeed.

Morning, Dwayne. Thought
you might like a lift.

A lift? It's not even seven o'clock.

I'm still running my bath.

Th... there's no time for a bath now.

I need to show you a magic trick!

Dwayne, you got the queen of
spades, Florence, four of clubs!

Exactly! How did you do that?

It's very simple.

The glasses in the sock!

The very same.

Last night, I was researching
magic when I found this.

X-ray specs.

Which put me in mind of these.

So, as an experiment, I marked the
back of the cards with UV ink =

the same ink we'd used to track
down stolen bikes -- and, hey presto!

X-ray vision!

X-ray vision! Come on!

Now, I know when I'm
playing with Winky Bob,

he will try and scam me, but these
guys are meant to be professional.

So Bobby was a big cheat?

Well, that was my first thought, too.

But then I remembered the
videos on Bobby's laptop.

It's footage of the professor,
taken from ten different games.

And look what he's wearing
in every single one.

Oh, see how he slips his
hand into his pocket?

Dabs his finger in the UV ink,
then marks the back of a card,

and then he can watch the
card travel round the table

through his special shades.

So much for his winning strategy.

Bobby must've worked it out.

Which is why he stole the Prof's glasses,

and sent him all those
threatening e-mails.

You think Bobby was blackmailing him?

- Well, I think we should
ask the Professor. - Hm.

No doubt you've all
heard of beginner's luck.

Well, I'm here to tell
you there's no such thing.

In fact, the only people dumb enough
to believe in luck are beginners.

I couldn't agree more, Professor.

Do you mind? These gentlemen
have paid a great deal of money.

I'm sorry for interrupting.

I was just wondering, do you
have time for a quick chat?

All right, so I, I... I cheated.

It was an aberration. A moment of madness.

No. Once would be madness.
Twice would be careless.

But you've been running this
racket all the way back to the

Black Rock Final in 2012.

We've seen the footage.

I was under immense
pressure from my publishers.

Erm, the sales of the book were,
were riding on the back of a win.

Oh, well, in that case! So
what was Bobby demanding?

- Did he want you to pay back the money?
- Throw the final?

Throw the final? You're not
a poker player, are you?

It's almost impossible
to lose deliberately.

Although I admit I, erm,
have a variety of strategies.

But not even I can control
which cards are dealt.

So what did he want? Why
didn't he blow the whistle?

Because he was enjoying himself too
much. He loved having the power.

Besides, he knew if he blabbed
about my misdemeanours,

I might blab about his.

Would this have anything to
do with last year's final?

I'm not sure it's my place to say.

You can't slander the dead, Professor.

And given what we know
about your "misdemeanours"

it'd be very much in your
interest to share what you know.

So, come on.

Bobby used to drink. I
mean, he could put it away.

And then his eye would start to wander,

and that's what led to him dropping
out of last year's tournament.

Well. Go on, what happened.

Well.

On this particular occasion,
Melanie woke to find Bobby...

.. gone a-wandering and
went looking for him.

And she found him giving a
rather generous tip to a waitress.

If you catch my meaning.

Bobby went after her.

She wasn't in their room.
She wasn't anywhere.

In fact, he was so desperate, he

even roped me in to the search party.

Eventually, we found her on the
beach threatening to drown herself.

We just got there in time.

After that, Melanie had a breakdown,
Bobby dropped out of the final,

joined AA.

Swore he'd never have a drink
or look at another woman again.

Personally, I wasn't that convinced.
But she seemed to believe him.

And you didn't think any of
this was worth mentioning before?

I didn't think it was relevant,
no. Bobby had changed.

Why drag up the past?

Well, you seem very certain of that.

How much more proof do you need?

He'd just passed a year
sober. We'd got married.

We were buying a house.

The Bobby I first met
lived out of a suitcase.

And how did you meet, if
you don't mind me asking?

We met on social media, of all places.

I was just an amateur at that
point, a fan, really, and, erm,

I asked him a question
about how to avoid tilt.

Tilt?

When you lose your head at
the table, make bad decisions.

And eventually this online relationship,

it turned into a real one?

Before I knew it I was giving up my job

and following him around the
international poker circuit.

My friends thought I'd lost my mind.

And then I did, briefly.

Bobby clearly caused you
a great deal of anguish.

Perhaps you found it hard to
trust him, and for good reason.

No. Like I said, Bobby had changed.

It was the one good thing
to come out of my breakdown.

It was agony at the time,
but we promised each other,

no more secrets.

You can't honestly think I'd I
k*ll the only man I ever loved?

Three men and two women sit at
a poker table for 90 minutes.

At some point, one of them

palms a poisoned ace
of spades into the deck.

And as if by some kind of Obia magic,

that card gets dealt to Bobby Rodrigues.

And no-one else touches it.

Not the poisoner, not the other
players, not even the dealer.

Tell me, how is that
even possible, Dwayne?

I wish I could, Chief.

We have four suspects,
each of them has a motive.

The dealer seeking revenge on
the father who abandoned her.

I'm his daughter.

The broke number two, eager
to get rid of the competition.

One big win! That's all I need.

The professor, scared that his
serial scam might be uncovered.

I was under immense
pressure from my publishers.

And the wife he'd driven
to a nervous breakdown.

You can't honestly think I'd
k*ll the only man I ever loved?

I really thought by now someone
would've given themselves away.

- Mmm. - Slip of the tongue, clumsy lie.

- A tell.
- A tell! Exactly!

Yes. The best poker players
never give themselves away.

They're either so
aggressive you have no idea

if they're winning or losing or they're

- so unassuming you wouldn't think
they had it in them to bluff. - Hmm.

You know what I need to do now?

No.

I need to buy a cigar.

So, at this point, Eugene folds.

Ray then raises 150,000.

I'll raise you 150,000.

Before Melanie folds too.

I'm out.

And now it's back to Bobby.

Bobby calls Ray's 150,

before Adelaide deals three more cards.

Seven of diamonds, ace of clubs, and...

Mrs Haddock, the Fisherman's Wife?

Ah. Yes. I found these cards
in the evidence store,

half the deck was missing, so I
had to make a few substitutions.

You just have to imagine
that's a four of diamonds, OK?

Four of diamonds.

So, anyway, Ray then bets...

200,000.

Bobby checks his cards

and even though he's holding...

Mr Bacon the Butcher?

No, like I say, you just have to
imagine, er, a different card.

- An ace.
- Ace, four of diamonds.

So, even though he's holding two
aces, he doesn't raise. He calls.

Why? Because he's playing a long game.

I'll call your 150.

He doesn't want them to know he's
got a good hand. Right, Dwayne?

- Right.
- Wait a minute. A different card.

Dwayne! What card is this?

- Ace of spades? - Except it isn't,
is it? It's Mr Bacon the Butcher.

But you just...

How can we be sure he wasn't
holding Mr Bacon or Mrs Kipper or

- Mr Trim the Tailor!
- Now you've lost me.

What if we've been
looking at this all wrong?

What if Bobby never had an ace of spades?

That card was definitely
the only thing with any

trace of poison left on it.

Any trace left. What if they
made the evidence disappear?

Like a magic trick. Like a,
a playing card up the sleeve.

These blotches, his thumb
and his two forefingers.

The ace of spades.

All identical. We open a
fresh pack every game.

Batrachotoxin. It comes
from the golden dart frog.

But not even I can control
which cards are dealt.

I'll be jiggered.

JP. Florence. Round up the
suspects, meet me at La Mirage.

Dwayne. I need you to check
something for me, please.

- You know who did it? - I believe I
do. But I'm not ready to reveal my hand.

Not just yet.

I have to be honest, up
until a couple of days ago,

I'd never really seen the appeal of poker.

I thought it was just a
silly card game where now

and again people lose their shirts.

But, with the help of my associate
here, I realised I was wrong.

'Course, Poker's not really
a card game at all, is it?

It's a game of people that just
happens to be played with cards.

Such as this one.

Well, what is it?

Well, essentially it's just a small
piece of paper with a picture on it.

But the power this fella has!
He can make your fortune.

He can ruin you.

Or -- in the case of this
particular card -- he can k*ll you.

Four world-class players were
sitting around this table

for the final of the Caribbean Masters.

But only one of you was dealt
the fatal ace of spades.

The unfortunate Bobby Rodrigues.

So the question that was
puzzling me right from the outset

is how did the k*ller get the
poisoned card into Bobby's hand?

And even more impressively,
how did they manage it in full

view of the audience and under the
intense scrutiny of their opponents?

Well, the answer seems obvious.

After all, there's only person
who decides which cards are dealt

to whom.

Me? Why would I want
to k*ll my own father?

Your father?

A father who abandoned you
before you were even born.

You give up your education,

you give up your future to
look after your sick mother.

Bobby owed you for all
those missing years.

No.

I, I just wanted to meet
him, to get to know him.

And yet all the evidence
would suggest that you were

the only person

who could've dealt Bobby the fatal hand.

Or at least, that's what our
real k*ller wanted us to think.

Now, I'm no poker player, but
this, this also puzzled me.

If Bobby had two aces, why
did he only match Ray's bet?

I know, I know, the obvious
explanation is that

he was playing a long game.

'Course he was. What other
reason could he have?

What if Bobby didn't have two aces at all?

What if at the moment he d*ed,
he was actually holding an ace and

a much lower card, let's say for the
sake of argument, three of hearts.

Bobby wasn't playing a long game at all.

Because, mark my words, this
poisoned card, this ace of spades,

it wasn't placed on the
table until after Bobby d*ed.

So what k*lled him, then?

You said the ace was the only thing
on the table with poison on it.

I... I said it was the only thing
LEFT on the table with poison on it.

But that's because the real m*rder
w*apon had already gone up in smoke.

Now, Bobby, he might well
have turned over a new leaf,

but he still had one weakness.

These things will k*ll you.

Especially if their tips are
laced with batrachotoxin.

Here, here and here. His thumb
and his two forefingers.

The blotches on Bobby's fingers were
exactly where he'd hold a playing

card but they're also where he'd
hold a cigar, as he cut off its tip.

Now, all the while the lethal
poison was making its way through

his bloodstream, the poisoned tip

was burning away.

All traces of it disappeared
in a puff of smoke like some

sort of conjuring trick.

But who would have the opportunity
to poison Bobby's cigar?

And who on earth would be able
to get their hands on an obscure

poison derived solely
from a rainforest frog?

Well, perhaps only someone who spent years

travelling to far-flung places.

She was a staff writer for
a travel company called

Off The Beaten Track.

Researching local knowledge for a living.

Oh! This is absurd. Why
would I k*ll Bobby?

Because you believed that
history was repeating itself

and Bobby was being less than
honest, just like before,

when he betrayed your
trust a year earlier.

But I told you, we were over that.

But contrary to what you said to us,

Bobby hadn't told you anything about
Adelaide being his daughter, had he?

Yes. Bobby told me.

Now, I have to give full
credit to my associate,

Acting Detective Myers.

It was Dwayne's knowledge
of poker that tipped me off.

As he said himself, top players
are either aggressive...

.. or they're so unassuming
you wouldn't think

they had it in them to bluff.

Which sums you up to a T.

You turned pro less than two years ago,

and you've risen straight to the top.

You're clearly a natural.

Natural liar.

Which is why, when we asked you
about Adelaide being Bobby's

daughter your face showed no
emotion, perfect poker face.

Adelaide is actually
Bobby's biological daughter.

Although, inside, I'm
sure you were horrified.

I, I have no idea where
Bobby said he was going

when he slipped off to the
Panama Hotel that afternoon.

But whatever his excuse
was, you weren't buying it.

Hey, sweetheart, I just
picked up a private game.

Just a few of the boys.

So you followed him

all the way to the Panama Hotel.

We almost missed it, until we
checked the CCTV outside the hotel

and saw you standing there, watching Bobby

and Adelaide go inside together.

I imagine you'd already noticed
the awkward looks between them,

the tiny tells.

Small wonder when he'd just learned
he had a long-lost daughter.

But you didn't see it that way.

So you hatched a plan. You
waited until after the semifinal

and took the ace of spades from the table.

And then somehow you got hold of the
batrachotoxin on the black market.

And then, well, I assume
when Bobby was getting ready

you poisoned the tip of his cigar.

Then after that...

well, all you had to do was wait
for the panic after Bobby collapsed

so you could slip the
poisoned card onto the table,

creating the illusion
of the perfect crime.

You thought you could spot Bobby's tells,

but you fatally misread the situation.

And that's why you
m*rder*d an innocent man.

That's why you k*lled the
only man that you ever loved.

This is your fault!

Mine? How could you?

If you hadn't tried to
sneak into Bobby's life.

You k*lled him!

You stole my father from me before
I even got the chance to know him.

You could've told me the
truth. Why didn't you?

If you had, he might still be alive.

Officer Myers, if you would?

Pleasure. JP.

Let's go.

Thank God this is over. What an ordeal.

I take it we can go now?

Of course.

Although, you understand we have an
obligation to report your cheating?

Cheating? What cheating?

Well, let's put it this way,
Les. It's a shady business.

What?

I gather congratulations are in order.

A satisfyingly swift conclusion
to the Rodrigues m*rder.

Thank you, Commissioner. I apologise
for letting you down last night.

I was busy.

Learning to pull rabbits out
of hats, so I understand.

Fortunately, your stand-in
rose to the occasion.

In fact, it's him I want to talk to.

Ah, the very man!

Commissioner.

My niece informs me you were a great
hit with her ladies last night.

So much so that they have made
requests to have home visits

to check their security arrangements.

Home visits?

So far, you have had six requests.

But I'm sure there will be many more.

Here are their addresses.

I trust you will not
disappoint any of them.

No, erm, er...

Your shoes appear to be a little soggy?

Oh, I, I had to go home. Just
a little domestic mishap.

I left my bath running this morning
and it's flooded the whole house.

I wasn't soliciting an anecdote.

I was suggesting you change your shoes.

Yeah. Commissioner.

Why did you leave the bath running?

Because I had to leave
my house in a hurry.

There was a mad man sitting
outside honking his horn.

Well, you should find that man
and give him a piece of your...

Oh, right, you mean...

Yes, it's going to take at least
a week to dry out completely.

I've got no fridge, no television, no bed!

Well, listen, come and stay at the shack.

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

I'm sure JP can put me up.

Oh, erm, I'm sorry, Dwayne. Me
and Rosey only have one bedroom.

Same here, Dwayne. Sorry.

Well, that settles it, then.

I got you into this mess, the
least I can do is put you up.

And now that Siobhan's gone, the
spare room is going, well, spare.

As long as you don't mind
being around me 24 hours a day!

I'll be glad of the company,
to be honest with ya.

It's been fairly quiet round here.

I'll just be next door.

Oh, and just to warn
you, apparently I snore,

so you might want to get some ear plugs.

Lovely!

Great!

You going to raise or fold? Tick tock.

Tick tock.

You've never played this game
before in your life, have you, JP?

How about you, Dwayne? I'm guessing
you're going to want to fold too?

I wouldn't be so sure about that!

No? You pursed your lips. You got nothing.

I thought you knew nothing about poker?

I don't.

But when you've spent the best
part of 15 years interviewing

the cream of London's
criminal fraternity, yeah,

you develop a knack for spotting tells.

OK, so what's mine?

You wrinkle your brow.
Yep. Just like that.

Ugh!

Straight flush! How?

Beginner's luck.

Mm-hm.

Ah-ha.

Wow!

My husband was

m*rder*d yesterday and I would
give everything I have, everything,

to bring him back again.

What brought you out to the island?

Frank... I've always been a fan.

Is that an Irish accent I hear?

Who is Otis Falconer?

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

He's meant to be my boss!

I may be an agent, but
I'm not THAT ruthless!

You take longer in the bathroom
than anyone I've ever met.

And I've got four sisters!