Detective drama series set on a Caribbean island. Humphrey and Martha's romantic weekend at the remote Hotel Cecile is disrupted by the murder of the hotel owner.
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Sorry, I'm coming!
Bit of an ordeal locking the station. Couldn't find my keys.
-Er, shall we?
# Wonderful world, beautiful people
# You and your girl
# Things could be pretty
# But underneath this there is a secret... #
-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.
-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.
Oh, it's lovely.
-Oh, this is perfect, Humphrey.
Right. I'm going to go and unpack.
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!
-I saw him earlier. One of the guests, I think.
-(Had a bit too much to drink.)
-What's going on?
-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.
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.
What the hell was that?
-What's going on?
-Excuse me. Sorry.
Er, stay here, keep an eye on the guests.
He's been stabbed - directly to the abdomen.
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.
-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?
-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?
Can't see a boat...
No. Neither can I.
The killer must still be on the island. Now, how did they get in?
So which one's Charlie's room?
That's it, there.
-Oh, sorry. No,
-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 killed him climbed up there and broke in.
Here's the thing. Look...
What am I looking at?
-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 killed him?
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,
killed 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.
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.
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.
See you tonight, though?
Yeah, of course.
You might want to move that bag, though!
So Martha's leaving the island? It's such a shame, sir.
Yes, it's all rather disappointing. Nonetheless,
a murder 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 stab wound to the abdomen
seems to be what did for him.
A 2cm non-serrated knife, 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 killer 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?
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 killed.
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 kill
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 knife that killed 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.
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?
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?
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 killed? 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?
-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?
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.
I met him when I started working at the hotel a couple of months back.
It was Elliot and Charlie's parents took me on here.
I've known them most of their lives.
Erm, I think that's all for now.
We'll need a room to base ourselves in while we're here.
OK, thank you.
You've all been very...helpful.
HE YAWNS AND SIGHS
Right then, Florence, let's work through what we know.
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.
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 died 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 stab 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. DOOR OPENS
OK, Chief, Sarge.
So, we've processed the crime scene and I've bagged up all of the
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...
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 murder?
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 killed 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.
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 kill Mr Taylor.
You check the dishwasher?
The one right behind you with the red flashing light on it.
Someone put on a wash for just ONE knife?
Two centimetres exactly. It's non-serrated.
It's got to be the weapon, hasn't it?
JP. Is there something the matter with you today?
-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?!
-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.
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 murder.
Would you mind telling me exactly what it is you know?
-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 killer also went into the kitchen
to dispose of the knife after they committed murder?
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.
We found the document folder you was going on about.
Oh, yes? What was in it?
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.
You should hear this. That phone number we found.
-It's for the Metropolitan Police Fraud Unit.
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.
-Somewhere a bit more private, maybe?
-OK. This way?
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 kill 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.
Which would mean you were looking at a minimum two-year sentence.
How do you explain that to a daughter who's already lost
-I didn't kill 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.
-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
-To meet with Mr DeCosta?
He's out with clients at the moment.
-But I managed to get hold of Tinicia.
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 killed, 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.
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.
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?
-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? #
-Oh, good Lord. Something's happened.
-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.
-Where did I put the parsley?
-Oh, er, the, er...
Oh! Um, how's the case going?
Um, well, yes, er, our murderer - 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
-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.
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?
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.
-Or perhaps just be careful.
Mmm! It's delicious!
Are you all right, Humphrey?
Couldn't be better.
-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!
So the postmortem came through this morning, sir.
It confirms the victim died from profuse internal bleeding from
a single stab wound to the abdomen.
And I also heard back from the lab.
As we expected, they were unable to recover any prints from the knife.
What do you think?
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.
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 killer.
-Which leaves us with...
-Elliot and Linda Taylor.
The owners of the hotel.
-La Maison Cecile's resident waiter and barman.
-And the receptionist.
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.
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.
-Samuel Palmer's arson charge. Let me check the case file.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Florence, let's go and speak to the Taylors.
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.
It's all right, love. I'm here...
-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.
They were shoved to the bottom of his waste-paper bin.
Thank you, JP.
Three separate copies. All signed and dated by Charlie Taylor.
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?
-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 kill him.
He was my brother, for Christ's sake!
What my husband is trying to say is that we did not kill 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.
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.
All of the suspects were downstairs
at the time that the victim was murdered upstairs.
And as none of them were seen using the only possible means
-of access to his bedroom...
..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.
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.
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 knife?
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.
The story is actually really rather sad.
-Planned to leave? When?
-First thing this morning.
-Of course it was!
It's all clear to me now.
-Yes. I know.
-Shall we gather everyone together, Chief?
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.
The person who murdered Charlie Taylor.
Please, sit down.
What's going on?
You killed 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 murder your husband's brother. Didn't you?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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 murder.
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 knife and I threatened him.'
No! 'I told him I'd make him tell Elliot if I had to.
'He tried to take the knife 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 killing 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 knife!
He took the knife 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 killed 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...
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?
You're right. They do.
Well, then. There you go.
-Thank you, Dwayne.
And they ask me why I never got married.
Well done, sir. That wasn't easy, what you had to do today.
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.
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 shot 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!
Humphrey and Martha's romantic weekend at the remote Hotel Cecile is disrupted by the murder of the hotel owner on the first night of their stay.