Episode 5 Death in Paradise

-Detective Inspector Poole. I take it you're here for me.

-Very good.

What gave us away?

Well, unless you're on some weird stag do...

Vincent Carter. This is the prisoner, Leon Hamilton.

He is officially now in your custody...

but I have been given orders to escort you to Saint-Marie.

Thank you, Vincent.

Mr Hamilton, you understand that, on arrival,

we take you to Saint-Marie Jail where you'll serve the remainder of your sentence.

Pardon.

After you.

So, you've been to Saint-Marie before?

Not that you'll see much of it from inside the prison.

Perhaps when you get out.

I suppose I ought to make the best of the view while I still can.

-Good book?

-Not really.

I think Agatha Christie's my favourite. Murder on the Orient Express.

Now that was a good book,

unlike this, where the murder victim died

actually clutching a photograph of his killer.

From what I've read so far,

this case could only have been easier

if the murderer had "Yes, I did it" tattooed on his forehead.

Then you wouldn't need a murder detective at all.

A trained chimp would suffice.

"Inspector Bubbles of the Yard". Got a ring to it.

I do love a good murder.

It's always a bit rough when we leave the harbour, just until we get round the point.

I'm sorry, but do you think I could stretch my legs for a bit? Get some fresh air?

-Do you have to?

-I really don't feel too good.

Very well.

Everything OK?

He wants to stretch his legs for a bit.

I'll come with you.

Do you think you'll be sick?

A warning would be appreciated if you do.

Just so that I can take wind direction into account,

take evasive action.

I can't say I blame you.

Excuse me!

Never liked waves,

not since a family holiday to the Isle of Wight when I was nine.

That was a ferry.

The "SS Vomit" I think it was called.

Oh, there we go! Sorry, probably not helping, is it? All this talk...

WOMAN SCREAMS

Vincent!

SCREAMING

Nobody move! Vincent!

What happened?

Leon Hamilton, the prisoner. I'm afraid we lost him.

He got away?

No. "Lost him" as in...

you know, dead.

What was it? A heart attack?

While he was still handcuffed to you? That's terrible!

No, it wasn't a heart attack. He was more...

murdered. Stabbed, to be precise.

Wait, wait! Someone murdered him when he was still handcuffed to you?!

I want a full passenger list. Background checks, see if you can find any link with the deceased.

-Don't forget the ferry crew.

-And you didn't see who it was?

I looked away for one second.

-What?

-Nothing.

-You think it's amusing?

-No.

-Have you called the commissioner yet?

-No, why?

He asked you to collect the prisoner in person to ensure the transfer went smoothly.

-Yeah.

-Well, it didn't, did it?

-Go smoothly?

-No.

-Do you want me to come with you?

-I'm not a child!

OK!

Have you any idea

how much paperwork this will generate?

What on earth were you doing?

How can someone murder the person standing next to you,

and you not even notice?

I mean, it should be funny.

It sounds funny. They're laughing at Government House,

laughing when they see me.

But I'm not laughing.

I've been lobbying for months to bring Leon Hamilton

to Saint-Marie to finish his sentence.

I even sent my most senior officer to go and collect him.

Do you know why I sent you, Inspector?

Well, I...

I sent you because I wanted the transfer to go smoothly...

..without incident.

Why? Because I couldn't imagine how embarrassing it would be

should he escape whilst in the custody of the Saint-Marie police force.

Look, I had...

A concern that pales into insignificance

now that he's been murdered

whilst handcuffed to one of our murder detectives!

Where were you?

The sea was rough around the point. It happened so fast.

I've spoken to your superiors.

You will stay on the island until I release you.

-Sir, I...

-It isn't a request.

They're arranging some accommodation for you,

-and I want a report on my desk by first thing in the morning.

-Sir.

Now get out of my sight!

It wasn't his fault, sir. The prisoner was in my custody.

I'd say that's hardly something to be proud of, Inspector.

I could understand if he was secretly poisoned,

in fact, secretly anything!

I could even forgive a gunshot from another boat,

or a jet ski or a helicopter.

But no, a knife was plunged into his back

while you were standing next to him, joined at the wrists!

-Sir.

-Sir.

Sir.

Are you OK?

The commissioner and I had a frank exchange of views,

and it was decided I hadn't exactly covered myself in glory

as far as the prisoner's transfer was concerned.

I wholeheartedly agreed with him,

and suggested I be shipped back to London in disgrace.

He refused, but it was worth a try.

So,

as I'm still stuck here,

I intend to find the person who murdered Leon Hamilton...

..who caused me no little embarrassment

if it's the last thing I ever do.

In fact, to coin a phrase,

"this time it's personal".

Where is the bin?

-SHOUTS:

-There is never a bin!

Thank you.

I spoke to the coroner, he'll do the autopsy later,

but it looks like a single knife wound, entry point under the shoulder blade.

Then it must have pierced the heart in order for death to be instantaneous.

And you think it was? Instantaneous?

I may have missed the actual blow, Camille,

but I think I'd have noticed if he'd started screaming

-and clutching at his back.

-Sorry(!)

Right. What about the passengers?

We've got witness statements,

but it will take a while to cross-check them.

Right, you get onto that. Fidel, I want Leon Hamilton's file sent over.

I want to know details of his circle.

Business associates, lovers, jealous siblings,

anyone who may have had a reason to kill him.

I also want the autopsy report and any forensics on the murder weapon on my desk the second they're done.

Yes, sir.

-So where do we start?

-Well, means and opportunity are self-evident,

so the key has to be motive.

Who wanted Leon Hamilton dead?

HE KNOCKS

He's dead.

And you owe me fifty grand.

There were 180 passengers. We can maybe discount 50 of those.

Why?

We have witness statements placing them either in the inside section or in a group.

-That still leaves 130 suspects.

-And none of them saw anything?

Nothing. The ferry captain also said you were only about a mile away from the coast

when the victim was found dead.

Meaning someone could have swum to shore after the murder.

So we can't even be sure that the killer was still on the ferry when you got to Saint-Marie?

-If you're looking at suspects, I think I can add some names.

-How many?

Just about...900.

Well, it's hardly my idea of a luxury resort.

A tad underdeveloped, you might say.

What actually happened?

About two years ago, hundreds of people on the island invested in Paradise Beach.

When it went under, they all lost their money.

It was worse than that.

Small businesses put their money in, hoping to get the catering and cleaning contracts.

Other people put their pension funds in.

It destroyed a lot of lives.

That's terrible.

The construction company was based in Guadeloupe.

Leon Hamilton was charged with embezzlement and false accounting.

That's why the commissioner wanted him to finish his sentence here.

-So that justice could be seen to be done.

-Yes.

The commissioner's name is on here, too.

So he knew Leon Hamilton?

I doubt it. But officially...

if the commissioner lost money, does that make him a suspect?

I imagine it does.

Who wants to be the first to interview him?

No?

Right, well, let's cross him off for now, shall we?

So we've got a man murdered in broad daylight while handcuffed to a police officer,

just over a thousand suspects, and it's a hundred degrees.

Marvellous.

That's odd.

It says here Leon Hamilton was a keen sailor, had his own yacht.

Is that important?

It was a bit rough as we left the harbour, and he complained of feeling sick.

Why would he feel seasick if he was an experienced sailor?

Did he actually say he was seasick?

No.

-Then it could have been something else.

-I suppose so.

Fidel, tell them I want a toxicology report on the victim,

-just to be on the safe side.

-Yes, sir.

I have a woman here who said she spoke to the officer on the ferry.

They talked about the book he was reading?

Yep, that was before we went outside.

Said she loved a good murder.

Suzie Park?

On her way to visit grandparents in Saint-Marie.

Check to see if her grandparents are on the investors list.

In fact, we should check everyone on the passengers list

-against the investors list.

-PHONE RINGS

-OK, I know this guy.

-Who?

-Samuel King.

-Yes?

-He's bad news.

-Violent?

-Very.

-Put him on the A pile.

Thank you.

Leon Hamilton's wife is flying in from Guadeloupe tomorrow morning

-to formally identify the body.

-OK, go and meet her.

See if you can get her story while you're at it.

-OK.

-It's late.

We should call it a day.

How was your day?

That bad, eh?

Although I'm assuming no-one actually died.

Which means I almost certainly have you beat.

CARD PLAYS "HAPPY BIRTHDAY"

KNOCKING

Shush!

Morning, sir.

-Thank you.

-Mm-hmm.

-Have a good day.

-OK, thank you, sir, we have your details.

-Thank you.

-That's the third one this week.

-What?

An old beggar woman. She stops tourists by asking them for money.

When they take out their wallet or purse, she snatches it and runs.

-Morning, team.

-Morning, sir.

-Chief.

-Where were you last night?

Ah. Yes, sorry, I went straight home.

Thought I'd finish these.

-And?

-Hopeless.

The ferry was bound for Saint-Marie, so virtually everyone on it

knew someone who'd lost money on the Paradise Beach complex.

The autopsy and toxicology reports are done, but their e-mail is down.

-They'll phone them through.

-OK. Dwayne and Fidel,

start rounding up everyone on our A list.

Let's eliminate who we can.

Yes, Chief.

Let's find out if there were any bigger investors in Paradise Beach,

anyone who lost enough money to want to kill Leon Hamilton.

We've got details of the bank. I'll call them on my way to the airport.

-Airport?

-Mrs Hamilton is coming to identify her husband's body.

-Remember?

-Ah, yes. Sorry.

PHONE RINGS

That should be the autopsy.

Great.

Put it on speaker phone. DI Richard Poole.

'# Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!

-'# Happy Birthday... #'

-Mum, Dad. Erm, yep, thank you.

Yes, the birthday card came yesterday

and the parcel came this morning. Thank you.

No, always good to send separately, just in case.

Yep. Yep. Listen, Mum, I'm actually at work

and, erm, I'm about to go into a meeting, so could we do this later?

Yep. Thanks again.

You too, yep. Bye.

Goodbye.

It's your birthday, sir?

-Yes.

-Today?

-Yes.

-Happy birthday.

-Happy birthday, sir.

-Thank you.

-So, how old are you?

None of your business how old I am.

Would everybody please get on with their tasks?

THEY WHISTLE "HAPPY BIRTHDAY"

Morning.

Thank you.

That can't have been easy.

He looked so...

still.

I'm sorry.

-That's a stupid thing to say.

-No.

What did I expect?

He was hardly going to be tap dancing, was he?

It's just that...

..I've never seen a dead body before.

Have you any family here?

Someone who can be with you?

It's just us.

Me. No.

You must have loved him very much.

Yes.

If you're ready, I can take you to your hotel?

I'm ready. Thank you.

This is terribly exciting.

I just need enough information

to eliminate you from our enquiries, Mrs, um...

Miss. Park.

-Miss Park.

-I love being interviewed.

Though you realise the chances it's a member of the public are remote?

I'm sorry?

Any self-respecting murder aficionado would know

about the Texas Institute of Criminal Profiling research

-into murder in a public place.

-Well...

In 109 cases studied over 11 years,

in only 3% of single murders committed in a public place

was the killer found to have known the victim

-or indeed had any prior contact.

-I see...

67% were carried out by paid assassins or hit men of some kind.

22% were the result of a dispute

-that originated within an hour of the murder.

-Can I just...

So a murder on a crowded ferry is almost certainly the work of someone paid...

Miss Park!

Much as I appreciate your enthusiasm,

can I just ask a few simple questions

to establish your whereabouts?

Yes.

Sorry. I got a bit excited.

No, not at all. When I took the prisoner up to the seating area,

you came out a few moments later.

Yes.

You knew I was with the prisoner?

Yes, I saw you. He was bent over. It looked like he was being sick.

And during your time outside, did you see anyone

with a knife, or acting particularly suspiciously?

No.

The boat was a bit rocky. I was just holding on, to be honest.

Erm...your grandparents,

-they invested in the Paradise Beach complex a few years ago.

-Yes?

You weren't aware the prisoner was Leon Hamilton,

-the man convicted of fraud when it went bust?

-No, I wasn't.

You didn't know?

No. But if I had, I'd have happily murdered him.

He took everything my grandparents had, every last penny.

I'm sorry.

That makes me a suspect, doesn't it?

Fidel!

Of course I'll make myself completely available,

should you need me again.

Would you like my passport?

No, it's OK. Thank you for your help, Miss Park. Have a good day.

She seemed very chirpy.

Mad as a bag of frogs.

Is that the autopsy report?

Yes, sir. Came while you were with Miss Park.

-Single wound, through the heart, just like you said.

-Hmm.

-Anything else?

-No other injuries, no.

-Toxicology?

-All clear.

Forensics on the murder weapon is with the report. No fingerprints.

We're checking the make of the knife and outlets that sell it,

but it's a pretty common blade.

-Thanks, Fidel.

-Sir.

-Sir?

-Mm-hmm?

I hoped I could spend some time in the market today, round lunchtime.

See if I can find our beggar thief.

Beggar thief?

Yes, sir.

A woman posing as a beggar, stealing from tourists.

I hate this kind of crime, sir.

It reflects badly on the island.

Two of the last thefts were at lunchtime, so...

-Modus operandi.

-Yes, sir.

-Then of course you must go.

Vincent.

-How's it going?

-It isn't.

-Ah.

Turns out he was the most unpopular man on the island,

so I'm knee-deep in suspects.

But that's a good thing, isn't it?

No. Two or three's good,

then you can whittle away by process of gradual elimination.

907 just muddies the waters.

Whoa, whoa. What's that?

-I heard it was someone's birthday.

-I'm a year older.

It hardly warrants a firework display. Take it away.

-I thought you'd like it.

-Well, I don't.

I came to clear my head and for a cup of tea, so just tea, please,

without any form of incendiary attached.

I think you might have upset her.

She's French, it's an occupational hazard.

Sorry we're making slow progress.

-You must be keen to get home.

-A little.

I'll speak to the commissioner. No point you being stuck here.

Thank you.

-How well did you know Leon Hamilton?

-Not that well.

I'd see him in the association room sometimes.

But I work in admissions, so...

There are over 300 prisoners in the jail.

Men like Leon Hamilton tend to keep their heads down.

That's the thing, you see, he didn't strike me as a con man.

There was no brashness.

Oh?

In fact, I'd say there was a...

sadness about him.

Well, he was going from one prison to another.

True.

Dwayne said you were here.

Vincent, you remember Detective Sergeant Bordey.

Hello, Vincent. You found us, then?

I suggested he came here for his meals.

Catherine has been very thoughtful.

Yes. He has that effect on my mother.

-Do you have family, Vincent?

-I'm divorced.

Oh, that's a shame.

For my bank balance, yes.

Please let me know if there's anything I can do to help.

Au revoir, Catherine.

Au revoir, Vincent.

Got a spoon?

So, Mrs Hamilton formally identified her husband.

She told me she has little to do with his business,

and she was as shocked as everyone else

when he was found guilty of fraud.

How long's she staying on Saint-Marie?

Just long enough to make the funeral arrangements.

Hmm.

Is she, erm...

not having the body shipped home?

No, she said he used to sail around the islands

and he loved Saint-Marie,

so she wants him cremated here.

SHE DIALS

I'm here.

Leon Hamilton told me he'd never been to Saint-Marie before,

yet now his wife says he often sailed here

and it was his favourite place.

Haven't you ever heard of a husband and wife who don't communicate?

Yet add the fact that supposedly he was an experienced sailor

who felt seasick on a ferry,

and something just doesn't add up.

Like what?

Maybe he lied to his wife about where he'd been,

to cover up an affair.

Maybe she lied about him loving Saint-Marie,

because their marriage was a sham

and she didn't care enough to have him shipped home.

No, she loved him. I'm sure of it.

How?

I talked to her.

And you can tell whether people are in love

just by talking to them, can you?

Yes.

By what they say,

their eyes, the tone of their voice...

I find that very hard to believe.

Have you ever been in love?

This has to be connected to Hamilton's business dealings.

Have we spoken to the bank?

No. They haven't got back to me.

Then let's start there.

WOMAN SCREAMS

What about Samuel King's statement?

Anything of interest?

He's been around long enough not to give too much away.

I asked him why he was on the ferry.

He said he was sightseeing.

He denies knowing the victim.

But you don't believe him?

The thing is, I saw him at the bar paying for his coffee.

He had a wad of notes big enough to choke a donkey.

-Did you ask him about it?

-He said he sold an old car.

-But?

-He couldn't remember what kind of car it was,

whose name it was registered in, or who he sold it to.

I could bring him in.

A criminal with a wad of cash isn't going to be honest

about how he got it, is he?

That doesn't make him a murderer.

Oh, I'm supposed to be at the bank.

I don't believe it! I was so close!

The beggar thief struck in the market again.

-She got a purse.

-You got outrun by a little old lady?

She disappeared down an alley, so...

The shame of it.

-Maybe next time, you try and catch her.

-OK, see you later.

Wait, wait. What are we doing for the Chief's birthday?

I don't think he's keen on surprises.

We have to do something!

-You could run down and get a cake.

-You think?

No, on second thoughts, wait till we catch your little old lady.

We'll send her. She'll be quicker.

I'm sorry to interrupt your break.

You don't want bank coffee, believe me. Please.

-Thank you.

-Bonjour.

-Cappuccino, please.

-Two.

Water for me. Thank you.

When Leon Hamilton put his company into liquidation

and his creditors were notified,

it was soon clear none of his suppliers had been paid,

even though the company accounts showed they had.

-False accounting?

-Yes.

-That's when we called the police.

-How much money?

Close to 2 million is still unaccounted for.

Our investigators tried to track it down but it was transferred overseas.

They got as far as Miami, and then lost it.

-We think it's in Europe somewhere.

-So Paradise Beach was a scam?

Essentially, yes. He raised almost a million from private investors

-and took a loan from us for the rest.

-And the loan was unsecured?

It was secured against the land,

but it now seems that the land was virtually worthless.

Anything he built there would have fallen into the sea within a year.

He'd falsified surveyors' reports.

Were there any larger investors? Anyone who took a real hit?

The largest single investor after the bank

was a local businessman, Gordon Foster.

He attended Leon Hamilton's trial.

Got thrown out for shouting abuse at the defendant.

So he's a man with a grudge.

He lost 300,000. Wouldn't you be?

I've brought statements from all the relevant accounts.

-That's Gordon's.

-Uh-huh.

Mr Foster?

Detective Inspector Richard Poole.

-This is Detective Sergeant Bordey. May we join you?

-Be my guest.

How can I help?

We'd like to talk to you about Leon Hamilton.

There's not much to say.

He was a con man and deserved all he got.

You're saying he deserved to die?

I meant prison.

Though there was a time when I'd have gladly strangled him with my bare hands.

That's a figure of speech.

-How well did you know him?

-Hardly at all.

He was a bit of a recluse. I had one meeting to listen to his pitch

telling me how much money I was going to make,

and another to sign a contract.

-In Saint-Marie?

-No. I had to fly to Guadeloupe.

He talked about opening an office here, but it never happened.

Now I know why.

And the next time you saw him was in court?

-Yes.

-Where you threatened him?

Too right.

I invested because I run a cleaning firm.

Hamilton promised me the contracts to Paradise Beach if I did.

40 people lost their jobs when he went bust

and the bugger very nearly took me down with him.

Luckily, his wife appears to have stood by him.

-What?

-HIS marriage didn't break up, did it?

How the hell did you know...

You have a tan line.

The divorce came through last week.

Me losing all the money and the stress of it all, it...

it was the last straw.

-Can I ask where you were yesterday?

-In my office.

-All day?

-From 8:30am until 7pm.

-Witnesses?

-How many would you like?

One would suffice.

HE CLEARS HIS THROAT

This is the number of Alice, my PA.

She was with me all day.

Thank you.

Well, he lost a fortune.

His business was clearly threatened, and he lost his wife and son.

Motive enough for me.

Thank you for agreeing to see us.

Well, I'm not sure what help I can be.

-Your husband sailed a yacht around Saint-Marie, I understand?

-Yes.

A lot?

Er, I don't know. Yes.

-Apparently enough for you to want to cremate him here.

-Yes. Yes.

I mean... Sorry, how is this important?

I won't know that until I have your answer. So, how many times

-did he come sailing here? Once? Twice?

-I said I didn't recall.

I see.

I understand you weren't involved in the Paradise Beach complex.

Not really. I mean, of course I knew about it,

because Leon would talk about it. But details?

Business isn't my strong point.

So you wouldn't have any idea where he'd stash 2 million?

Excuse me?

The amount the bank believe he'd stolen from the company account.

I would know if we had that sort of money,

and I can you assure you we most certainly did not.

Or perhaps he simply didn't tell you about it.

I'm sorry, I think that's enough.

Oh?

My husband died only yesterday.

In your care, as I understand it.

So I have no intention of sitting here listening to you sully his memory.

Despite what you may have heard, my husband was not a con man.

He may have cut the odd corner. What businessman doesn't?

But he wanted Paradise Beach to work as much as everybody.

He was just unlucky. Nothing more.

And whatever his shortcomings,

he certainly didn't deserve to die for them.

-See?

-See what?

-I told you she loved him.

Hm. She could just be a very convincing liar.

But she talked with such passion.

Mm, but passion for her dead husband

or passion not to get caught for being involved in his murder?

-Oh, chief? The commissioner called in.

-Oh?

He wanted to know if we'd made any progress in the Leon Hamilton case.

Thank you.

PHONE RINGS

Honore Police Station.

-Uh-huh.

-Means, motive and opportunity

are usually difficult to establish,

but here we have them in abundance.

The means - a common blade,

easy enough for anyone to pick up.

Opportunity - despite the fact that he was a prisoner being transferred,

the boat was crowded, people bumping into one another,

simple enough for the killer to find time for a single blow.

As for motive...

..half the island appears to have one.

OK. I'll send an officer round.

Fidel, you'd better get down to the old market, Cove Lane.

-The beggar thief just stole another purse.

-No!

But the people on the ferry, if they had recognised him,

they may have attacked him, thrown him overboard, even,

but not this.

You're right. It had to be premeditated.

Whoever killed Leon Hamilton

knew he was going to be on that ferry.

It was a confined space, nowhere to hide.

If you couldn't afford to be seen, what would you do?

Pay someone to do it for me?

-Dwayne?

-Chief?

-The man you interviewed earlier,

-Samuel King - is he capable of this?

-At the right price? Hell, yes.

Then as we appear to have hit a dead end,

maybe it's time I spoke to him after all.

Where can I find him?

Mr King?

I'm Detective Inspector Richard Poole.

As you know, this is Police Officer Dwayne Myers.

We'd, erm, like to ask you a few questions.

I've already spoken to your boy.

Well, now we have some different questions.

Watch him!

Wait!

Coming through!

GLASS SMASHES

MAN CRIES OUT

Mr Foster!

It was a few weeks back, just after my wife left.

I was drunk out of my skull.

I met Samuel King in a bar

and he was boasting about being a part of the underworld,

a..."fixer", if you like.

And apparently, I asked him how much it would cost to...

"fix" Leon Hamilton.

He said fifty grand.

God, I was drunk. It wasn't a serious proposition!

Then why were you sitting with him and why did you run when you saw us?

Yesterday, he came to the house. He said that he had done it

and he demanded payment.

My God, I had no idea he was bloody going to go through with it!

So you paid him?

I wish.

I don't have that kind of money any more.

I just gave him a few hundred to make him go away.

HE SIGHS

And then he came back for more?

He said that if I didn't come here today with more money...

he would go to the police.

So, what would happen if I just got up and walked out?

We both know that isn't going to happen.

I could always leave a little something behind.

You could say you were distracted.

You know, I really hope you're not suggesting what I think you are.

Me?

No! Just asking a question.

-Did you lose him?

-No, I got him, but he's in the hospital.

No, I didn't, erm... I mean, it was his foot. Er...

Samuel King, I'm arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Leon Hamilton.

Gordon Foster said that you've been demanding money

-for carrying out the murder of Leon Hamilton.

-Is that right?

Yes. It is.

Hello?

And I'm sure you have plenty of contacts

who can inform you of a prisoner being transferred to another prison.

HE WHISTLES You think?!

You don't deny being on the ferry?

It seems to me that you are the one who's asking all of the questions.

I'm just admiring the view.

I'm not.

Did you carry out the murder of Leon Hamilton,

-as you suggested to Mr Foster?

-No, I did not.

And yet you demanded money for doing so, which is blackmail.

Either way, you're going to prison. The only question is for how long.

HE LAUGHS He won't testify against me.

He's got no balls.

What happened on that ferry?

I don't remember.

Very well, perhaps a night in a cell

will improve your memory and your manners.

OK, I don't need a night in here. Come on, I've not done anything.

-Dwayne?

-Whoa, whoa, whoa. All right, look, no messing.

Everything that guy said was true.

-OK, sit down.

-SHE CLICKS HER FINGERS

He came into the bar wasted, started talking about this Leon Hamilton,

some big shot from Guadeloupe who'd ruined his life,

-and what he'd do to him.

-So you offered to murder him?

I was only messing! It was no big deal.

I thought I might scam an upfront payment off him.

And then what happened?

Well, nothing. I'd forgotten all about it

until I'd heard that Leon Hamilton had been murdered

on the very same ferry that I'd been on. It was too good to miss!

-So you went to Gordon Foster and told him it was you in the hope of getting paid.

-Yeah.

It was working, too, until you turned up.

Yeah, I think I know the guy you're talking about.

-Gold chains. Mean-looking guy.

-That's him.

Yeah. Yeah, he would get my vote.

Did Leon Hamilton talk about Saint-Marie when he was in prison?

I'm not sure. Why?

I was wondering how often he'd been here.

Is it important?

I think so. I'm just, you know, not really sure why.

Sex and money.

All murders are about sex or money.

Erm, sorry, I don't want to appear rude,

but, er, do you mind?

So no new developments, then? Nothing I should know about?

No.

I could help.

I know the five BRMs off by heart.

-The what?

-BRMs!

Basic rules of murder.

If it's not sex, it's money. If it's not money, it's sex.

A wife is most likely to kill a husband.

A husband is most likely to kill a wife.

And the last person you should discount should be the one you least suspect.

I've never heard such claptrap in 23 years of policing.

It's in the November issue of Murder Monthly.

I don't care. Would you excuse us? We were having a private conversation.

Very well.

But remember, if you use your BRMs,

you'll never go far wrong.

VINCENT CHUCKLES

ALL: # Happy birthday to you Happy birthday to you

# Happy birthday, dear Richard Happy bir... #

I know you're under pressure.

We all are. But would it really be so hard to just once

be nice?

I'm sorry.

Oh!

It was very rude.

Yes, it was.

Is that it?

Good. Now, the bank statements

show money being drawn out of the company account over a period of time

AND from their private account.

You left people singing Happy Birthday

just to look at bank statements?

Yes, and I've already apologised. Can we move on?

You are impossible!

Mrs Hamilton withdrew 50,000

from their joint account three weeks ago.

Wait, wait, wait.

Fifty thousand?

Isn't that what Samuel King asked Gordon Foster to pay?

The exact amount. Bit of a coincidence, don't you think?

Yeah.

Sex and money.

Excuse me?

The madwoman was right. Great motives for murder.

I think we'll go and see Ann

first thing in the morning.

So, are you coming back to the party?

I won't, if you don't mind.

Erm, early night.

A lot to do tomorrow.

I brought you a slice of cake.

Happy birthday.

SULTRY MUSIC PLAYS

KNOCK AT DOOR

I thought you'd forgotten all about me.

Morning, sir.

Morning, team.

-Great party, chief.

-Looks like it.

I was just going to call you, sir.

Leon Hamilton is being cremated at 11:30 this morning.

We ran an airline check.

Ann Hamilton has booked the next flight off the island, the 14:05 to Miami.

It's her, isn't it? Where's Camille?

On her way to Ann Hamilton's hotel.

OK, I'll see her there.

-You ready?

-What?

The beggar thief. You promised to help me, remember?

That woman I left the party with last night...

-There were two of them.

-Oh?

So I wasn't seeing double!

That's her! The beggar thief.

Stop! Stop!

Philip?!

Wait till I tell your mother.

Police, police! Let me through!

Excuse me.

-You don't believe she fell?

-No.

No more than I believe it was grief-induced suicide.

But who would kill her?

I think we were on the right trail, you know?

I think somehow she was involved in her husband's death.

She must have had an accomplice.

Samuel King is in a cell.

Gordon Foster?

I think if we find out who killed Mrs Hamilton,

we'll also find out who killed her husband.

Unlike Leon Hamilton, who had queues of people wanting him dead,

we just need to work out who profited from Mrs Hamilton's death.

Let's get you locked up.

-Fidel?

-Yes, sir?

-Why is he dressed as a woman?

-He's the beggar thief, sir.

-But that was a woman.

No, sir, it was Philip. In a dress.

Oh.

Anything else, sir?

No, no. Er, thank you, Fidel.

Thank you. OK, they've cordoned off the room.

Shall I send Dwayne and Fidel over?

No!

-No what?

-That's...

-That's what?

-If...

-If what?

-Where's Vincent?

-He was having breakfast at Catherine's bar.

-Fidel?

-Yes, sir?

-Get Gordon Foster. Keep him here till I call you.

-Understand?

-Yes, sir.

-Repeat it.

-Get Gordon Foster, keep him here.

-Excellent. Go on.

-What's going on?

I don't know. I mean, I think I know.

-Oh. You think?

-Well, it's how it works, usually.

I mean, at least, it's the start of how it works.

You raise a notion, a thought, a possibility.

Then you bombard it with fact,

with things already established, to test it.

And if that notion, however absurd, however outlandish,

well, if it stands up to that kind of scrutiny,

if it still fits,

if it can't be disproved by what we already know...

well, I mean, mostly - not always, but, yeah, mostly -

it's the truth.

Ha!

Bring Samuel King. Come on!

Richard! I was hoping to see you before I went.

-Then I'm glad not to disappoint.

-Have a drink.

Er, no, thank you, still on duty.

-So, how was your birthday?

-Good, thank you.

-You missed your own party.

-Yes, so I understand. Still, always next year.

Hopefully.

Shall we?

-What's going on?

-Well, I hoped we might just run through the case.

-You don't mind, do you?

-Why should I?

-Why indeed?

You see, this case should have been the easiest I've dealt with.

I was handcuffed to the victim when he was murdered, after all.

But in reality, it turned out to be

one of the most confusing.

The murder itself wasn't particularly baffling.

Audacious? Yes.

Daring? Absolutely.

But then, erm... Well, it just takes a second

to plunge a blade into a man's heart.

No, this case has never been about the how.

It's always been quite literally about the who.

Samuel King looked like a good bet to begin with.

Isn't that right, Camille?

Muscle for hire, a man who claims to be willing

to take another man's life if the price is right.

You were on that ferry, you could have plunged a knife into the victim.

You can't prove nothing.

Quite so. Luckily, we don't have to, erm,

"prove nothing",

because you didn't kill Leon Hamilton.

You're an opportunist.

I doubt you had the brains or the audacity for this crime.

You simply saw an opportunity for a pay day

from disgruntled investor Gordon Foster

when he stumbled into your bar by chance.

Er, look, I really have to go soon.

Not much longer. It will be worth the wait, I promise.

You see, the key to this case

was to be found not in the murder of Leon Hamilton

but in the killing of his wife, Ann.

Fidel, can you come over now?

-Yes, please.

-Not only do I believe

that Ann Hamilton was involved in the first murder,

I also think she had an accomplice,

an accomplice who did the dirty work,

who, er, actually carried out the murder for reward.

And what reward! Not only Mrs Hamilton herself, of course,

but also the 2 million she'd helped her husband hide from the banks and their creditors.

But a murderer's accomplice is a very dangerous individual,

particularly when there's money at the heart of things.

I mean...

once you've crossed that threshold, why not have it all to yourself?

And that's what you did, wasn't it?

What?

It was you who plunged a blade into that poor man's heart.

HE LAUGHS INCREDULOUSLY

'The time to strike

'was when the ferry hit rough water as it rounded the point,

'a single strike when you knew everyone would be distracted by having to hold on'

-as the boat rolled.

-I think you have a very vivid imagination.

Yes, I have.

Without it, I very much doubt we'd be having this conversation.

There's an old cliche about murder someone reminded me of recently,

that in the vast majority of murders

the motive's either sex or money. In this case, it was both.

And there's another cliche.

That if the wife is murdered,

it'll usually be the husband who is responsible.

-Except this time it can't be.

-On the contrary, Dwayne...

-..that's exactly what happened.

-What's going on?

It can't be!

But you're dead!

Because this isn't Vincent the prison guard,

this is Leon Hamilton.

Mr Foster, as the only man in this room

who's actually met him,

are you sure this is Leon Hamilton?

Absolutely.

While in prison, the real Leon Hamilton

met down-at-heel prison guard Vincent Carter -

recently divorced, broke, not much of a future to look forward to.

What was the deal?

50,000 for six months, to swap places

and serve out the remainder of your sentence here on Saint-Marie.

The 50,000 taken out by your wife two weeks ago.

It was easy enough for the real Vincent to fake your prison records.

He worked in admissions, didn't he?

So after you left the prison and before you reached the ferry,

you swapped clothes with the real Vincent Carter.

You knew you were going to kill him, didn't you?

The master stroke was your wife coming from Guadeloupe

-to identify the body.

-I'm here.

I thought you'd forgotten all about me.

In fact, I think you arranged to meet her last night.

I think you planned how to spend your ill-gotten gains.

And then she gave you what you needed, didn't she?

Her signature. And with it the money.

No need to waste the night.

In the morning, you threw her to her death.

She also knew that as a keen sailor, you often sailed around Saint-Marie,

whereas the real Vincent said he'd never been here before.

And because you were a keen sailor,

you knew how rough the sea got round the point.

And because the real Vincent wasn't, he felt seasick straightaway.

But although Vincent Carter traded places with you,

he was just a smaller part of the bigger game you were playing.

This was about 2 million and gaining your freedom,

not just from prison but also from your wife.

As soon as she identified the wrong body, she was no longer needed.

She thought the two of you were in this together.

She was looking forward to your reunion, not suspecting for a second

that you did all of this in order to kill her.

It was to be the perfect murder.

After all...

..how could a dead man kill his own wife?

Made you look pretty stupid, though, didn't I?

Yeah. You did.

And please feel free to continue gloating

throughout your double life sentence.

Bravo!

Actually, it was Fidel who cracked the case.

-Me?

-Mm. Absolutely.

Your beggar thief, the old woman that never was.

Without her,

or, er, him, as it turned out,

I'd never have made the leap.

That was quite something.

Thank you.

Coo-ee!

Oh, Lord!

I see you got someone, then?

So, what was it? Sex? Or money?

-Both.

-Thought so.

BRM. Never fails.

You don't want to know.

Well, I think we should celebrate,

as you missed your own birthday party last night.

Cracking idea!

Erm, actually, I'm a little bit tired. Been up all night.

And one or two things to do. So, er, why don't I meet you back here?

If you don't, we'll come and find you!

-Absolutely.

-We mean it.

-Bye!

Ah! Look, he's got his cake!

No! What are you doing?

THEY LAUGH

OK, go, go.

Happy birthday, sir.

OK. Here we go.

HE CHUCKLES

There you are!

Cheers. To the chief. ALL: Cheers!

-What if someone sees us together?

-Excuse me?

You haven't told her yet, have you?

Are you OK to dive?

Phil!

We've just pulled a body out of the water. Not an accident.

Detective Sergeant Angela Young. She will be your senior officer.

-The inspector isn't here, is he, Freddie?

-I

-am.

-She told me to be honest.

-When women tell you to be honest, they don't mean it!

Well, what sense does that make?

-What's the problem??

-No problem, sir.

SIREN WAILS Hey, what you doing?

Stop! Police!

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