The team enter the high-stakes world of poker when a finalist is poisoned during the Caribbean Poker Masters tournament. The only suspects are sat round the table.
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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.
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...
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.
You miss her?
Siobhan? No! Not really, shack is lovely and peaceful without her.
Well, you don't have to sound so surprised.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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?
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 died 90 minutes later.
I'll call your two.
And in that time, did anyone approach the table?
Perhaps to pour more drinks or...
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.
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 murder weapon, 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?
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.
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.
Who keeps glasses in a sock?
Why didn't he buy a case?
Oh, by the way, Dwayne, I meant to say,
with Florence out of action, I might need you to step up.
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.
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.
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.
-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 murder.
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.
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 murder weapon.
-The ace of spades?
-Yep, one of the two cards Bobby was dealt
before he died.
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.
Where would you find one of these fellas, these killer Kermits?
You know, they're native to Saint Marie.
But only in like certain parts of the rainforest.
The rainforest? So how did our killer get their hands on it?
You'd have to know the right people.
Or wrong people.
So, at some point during the final,
our killer 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 died?
And how could our killer 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.
-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.
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.
-The killer 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.
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 assault.
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?
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 killed by a poisoned 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 beat Bobby is by killing 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 assault.
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 kill 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.
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.
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 murder.
Well, we don't actually hold hands as such...
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?
You haven't forgotten? My niece's lecture group.
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"
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?
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?
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 think what my colleague is trying to say is that we have you
and Bobby on CCTV.
At the Panama Hotel just a couple of days before he died.
Oh, and we also found this on his phone.
-It's not what it looks like.
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.
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 died, 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
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?
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?
Are you any closer to finding Bobby's killer?
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 kill the man she believed to be her father?
-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?
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.
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 killer 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.
-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.
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 murder was carefully planned.
Our killer 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.
Your speech for the Commissioner's niece?
Ah...for Pete's sake. I'm in the middle of a murder 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.
Good evening, ladies, sorry to keep you waiting but there's a killer
loose on the island, and it's my job to track him down, so don't worry.
Detective Dwayne Myers is on the case...
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.
Right, hang on, then.
And the card should just...
-Don't you think someone might've noticed the killer do that?
JP! How's it going?
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.
Ah, nuts. This whole sleight of hand thing is harder than it looks.
No wonder so many magicians resort to 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 killer 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.
HE TOOTS HORN
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.
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! 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.
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.
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,
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.
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 kill 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 kill the only man I ever loved?
I really thought by now someone would've given themselves away.
-Slip of the tongue, clumsy lie.
-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.
You know what I need to do now?
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.
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...
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.
-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?
-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 kill 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 killer 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
Me? Why would I want to kill my own 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.
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 killer 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 died, 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 died.
So what killed 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 murder weapon 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 kill 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 kill 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.
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 murdered an innocent man.
That's why you killed 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 killed 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?
Thank God this is over. What an ordeal.
I take it we can go now?
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.
I gather congratulations are in order.
A satisfyingly swift conclusion to the Rodrigues murder.
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!
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.
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.
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.
You going to raise or fold? 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?
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.
Straight flush! How?
My husband was
murdered 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!
DI Mooney and the team enter the high-stakes world of poker when a finalist is poisoned during the Caribbean Poker Masters tournament. The only suspects are sat round the table. When even a twitch of an eye can reveal a player's hand, just how did the killer commit murder?