Death in Paradise (2011–…): Season 2, Episode 3 - Episode #2.3 - full transcript

So, morning team briefing.

I thought we should sharpen things
up a little and start each day
as we...

mean to go on.

Fidel?

Oh.

Sorry, chief.

It's just that Crazy Ally
was throwing a Full Moon party

last night and, well...

Yeah, your self destructive link
to the lunar cycle

is well documented so, er,
let's just leave it there, shall we?

All of it.



You think it'll be quiet
here again today?

The phone hardly rang at all
yesterday.

It's too hot. No-one's got enough
energy to break the law.

Ms Smythe.

Carlton. Lovely day.

There is a positive aspect
to the phone not ringing.

No crimes being committed!

Peace and goodwill abounding. Hmm?

And it reflects very well
on the department.

If you're bored, chief,
there's always the crossword.

Yeah, with respect, it's not exactly
the Times, is it? Come on.

OK. One across. Three letters,
begins with S.

"It is blue and is all around you."

Hmm, that's a tricky one.



It's sea. It's blue and all
around you. We're on an island.

It's the sea. Or sky.

Tricky.

So, er, what do we know
about this place?

The Jacaranda Clinic.
Specialises in cosmetic procedures.

Very exclusive. You mean expensive?

Well, you book in for a face lift,

then spend the next two weeks
sitting by the pool.

By which time all trace of the
surgeon's knife has disappeared.

And the secret of your eternal youth
is safe for another year.

The clinic is owned by an English
surgeon, Jeremy Tipping.

He's been on the island for years.

Got the big yacht in the harbour
and everything.

A real beauty. Even has a Jacuzzi!

Police. We've come about the corpse?

Impressive. Mmmmm.

I meant the ambience. Clearly.

Vivaldi? Well, it gives me
the creeps. It's so impersonal.

They all arrive in their big black
cars and then just disappear again.

I doubt if anyone here
sees anything of the island.

It's just like they've never actually
been here at all.

Ah! Inspector?

This way.

No, I haven't had a face lift,
Inspector.

I come here for physiotherapy.
An old sports injury.

Mala. My physiotherapist.

Beautiful hands.

Her name was Valerie Dupree.

French.

Apparently her husband had
just left her for a younger woman.

So, the staff and I think
it's a simple case of suicide.

Do you know if she could swim? Yes.

I understand she swam most evenings.

How sad you must be
to take your own life.

Well, let's not jump to conclusions.

Selwyn! Hello! Jeremy.

This is Detective Inspector
Richard Poole, Sergeant Bordey.

A pleasure. I'm sorry we're not
meeting in better circumstances.

Quite. And Mrs Dupree
was last seen alive when?

Erm, I understand her nurse
saw her yesterday evening.

And the body was discovered?

First thing this morning.
One of our guests found her.

We will try to keep the disruption
to a minimum, Jeremy.

Isn't that right, Inspector?

Yes. Absolutely.

Good. Well I'll just go
and get dressed.

Er, the ambulance has been held up,

so Dwayne and Fidel are moving
the body inside.

Mmmm? Out of sight.

Oh right, yeah.

You know this pot's been moved.

And, er, it's been chipped. Look.

This is just awful. The poor woman.

I-I-I was just in town,
I just got back. And you are?

Sorry, erm, I'm Anna Jones.
Erm, Doctor Anna Jones.

You work here?
Yes, I'm the general manager.

But you're a doctor? Of psychology.

Oh? Part of my job
is that I screen the clients.

Oh, so, you must have examined
Mrs Dupree?

Er, yeah, I did.

Erm, which I'm not feeling
particularly comfortable with
right now.

She was clearly depressed.

Her husband of 25 years had
just started divorce proceedings.

But I, I honestly thought that
the cosmetic procedure

would give her a fresh start,
you know, help her feelings
of low self esteem.

But, erm, clearly I was wrong.

Sorry, I'm so sorry.

Hello?

Hi, yes, Mrs Katzenburg.
Mm-hmm, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Can I call you back? Yes, in five
minutes. Thank you. OK, bye.

Is there anything else
I can help you with?

If we could just see
Mrs Dupree's room?

Then we can get out of your way.
Yes, absolutely. It's this way.

Sir? Hmm, yes, yeah.

Coming.

Erm, Carlton here took care of her,

so he can show you everything
you need. Thank you.

Oh, sorry about this.

Erm, yes?

Right, aha.

So, how well did you know
Mrs Dupree?

It was her first visit here.

And you last saw her, when?

Drug round. 'Bout 9.30pm?

All the patients get heparin,
Mr Tipping is very insistent.

Heparin?

An injectable anticoagulant.

Enables wound-healing by preventing
blood clot formation.

Right.

So you gave her the injection
as normal?

Sure.

Same as every night.

Did you speak to her?

Dr Jones is very particular.

She doesn't encourage conversation
with the clients.

So, assuming she died
some time that night,

you may well be the last person
to see her alive?

I couldn't say.

She was my last patient
on the round.

I just give her the injection
and go straight home.

All right, thank you.
We'll be fine from here.

No note?

Do you know what this is?

Er, hmm, tea?

Not any old tea.

This is Da Hong Pao.

Hmmm?

You know, gram for gram
this is more expensive than gold.

Camellia sinensis,
if I recall correctly.

You know when Nixon visited China,

they gave him two ounces of this
as a gift.

Two ounces! Imagine.

It's half empty. A little strange,
don't you think? Why?

Well you go to the trouble of
making yourself a cup of the most
expensive tea in the world...

Oh, I love this bag! Ahem!

You go to the trouble of making
yourself a cup of the most expensive
tea in the world

and then halfway through, you put
down the cup, go out to the pool
and drown yourself?

People can be spontaneous.
They do strange things.

I disagree.

You know,
throughout my career I've found them
to be surprisingly predictable,

provided you truly understand
their motives, of course.

So, why drink only half a cup
of tea?

Maybe she used it
to wash down the rest of these?

Diazepam. Mm-hmm.

Sleeping tablets.

Tea or no tea, the truth
is that this woman felt so alone,

so miserable,
that she'd take her own life.

While I disapprove of assumptions
in principle,

in this case, you may be right.

There's nothing here. Let's go.

I know what you're thinking,
Sergeant Bordey, but this is very
probably the last thing she drank

before she committed suicide and,
as such, we should test it.

You mean you should test it?

Absolutely.

I'm surprised they don't get that
fixed, the money they charge.

Must be like being pushed
around on a supermarket trolley.

We found this in her dressing gown
pocket, sir. Nothing else.

Well, see what you can recover from
it. Last calls, surviving prints.

We may at least be able to determine
time of death for the coroner.

Sure.

Well, team? All finished?

Yes. And?

Most likely suicide.

So, just as I said?

Yes. Apart from the tea.

The tea? Yes, Valerie Dupree made
herself an expensive pot of tea,

yet failed to drink it.

There are some important people
at the clinic, Inspector.

Rich people with great influence.

All of whom we want to welcome
to the island with open arms.

I'm sure you understand me?

Yes, sir.

Liming?

Is that a word? Of course it is.

It means hanging out
with your friends and having a beer.

You know, taking it easy. Relaxing.
Really? Mm.

Well, it fits.

The pathologist's
report on the suicide lady.

So it is suicide? Seems so.

Cause of death - hypoxia,
cardiac arrest.

Chlorinated water found in lungs,

correlates with suicide by drowning,
no sign of trauma.

Apart from...

Recent surgery to the face,
thought to be cosmetic in nature.

Blood tests showed
traces of glycosaminoglycan,

which tallies with reported
anticoagulant unfractionated
heparin.

That's it.

What about the diazepam?

Sir?

In her blood.

There's no sign of that here.

But we found an empty bottle
of diazepam in her room.

That's what we assumed she took.

Well, there's nothing here.

It could have worked its way
through her system?

Not a dose big enough to
knock her out.

What about her medical records?
Any history of blackouts, fainting?

No.

Any long term medical condition
at all? Epilepsy? Seizures?

No, nothing. Maybe she just
slipped and fell?

Then where's the trauma?
A lump or swelling? Broken skin?

There isn't any.

So, a reasonably fit
and able swimmer, Valerie Dupree,

makes herself a very expensive
cup of tea

then takes barely a single sip

before leaving her room

and walking to the swimming pool
and throwing herself in.

Then, using nothing more
than her own willpower,

she holds herself down under
the water until she drowns.

So you're saying it
wasn't a suicide?

And it couldn't have been
an accident?

Which means?

Somehow, as unlikely as it seems...

I think she was murdered.

Well, the pathologist's report
was clear -

there were no other factors
in her death - she drowned.

How can that be?

Maybe someone held her in the pool.

The only logical explanation.
And yet...

What?

Well, imagine you're taking
a midnight swim

and I decide to drown you.

What do you do?

Aaargh!

OK, let me rephrase that. You're not
a trained police officer. I'm not?

No, you're a depressed woman with no
apparent aptitude for self defence.

Oh, OK, all right. Well, then,
I'm drowning, struggling for air,

I guess I'd struggle.

Yet the victim showed
no signs of restraint bruising

to the neck or shoulders.
No hyoid bone fracture, you know.

Try and subdue her and her
characteristic injury patterns

would be impossible to avoid.

Well, what if it was just a little
push down in the back of the...?

No, you don't, no, you don't.

No, I mean, whichever way you do it,
I think we've established

it's impossible to hold
someone down, under water,

without giving them
so much as a bruise.

And then there's the tea conundrum.

Is there a problem?
I'm afraid there is.

Perhaps you could enlighten me.

We're no longer sure

that Valerie Dupree's
drowning was a suicide.

I don't... I don't think
I understand.

You're suggesting
it was some kind of accident?

I'm suggesting she was murdered.

Well, that's nonsense.

We're going to need a complete
list of your staff and clients.

But just hang on a minute, what
are you basing this assertion on?

Well, that's a police matter.

If you could just provide me
with what I've asked for.

Absolutely not.
That's confidential information.

Sorry, but as I'm now treating this
as a murder enquiry, I must insist.

We can always get a warrant.

And until the investigation
is complete, I'm going to have to

request that you close the clinic,
temporarily.

No-one enters, no-one leaves.
And we'll be confiscating passports.

You're imprisoning my clients?

Just until the interviews
have been completed

and they've been eliminated
from our enquiries.

I mean, the poor woman was just
floating there. Face down!

Can I ask you how well you
knew Mrs Dupree?

Oh, not at all really.

I mean, we just passed
the time of day.

Her husband was rich, I know that.
She was a feisty one.

You should have heard her
on the phone to him.

Well, one assumes
it was her husband.

One couldn't help overhearing.

She was quite animated
about something.

Would you say she was angry
or upset?

I'd say both.

I mean, everyone divorces
in the same language, don't they?

Besides, after three useless
husbands, one learns the signs.

So you're not married now?

I was. Yes.

Three tries to finally get it right

and then my darling number four
goes and dies on me.

You must miss him.

Yes, I do.

Terribly.

He was...

a force of nature.

We just had so much fun together.

Well, if you want to have some fun,

maybe you should see some more
of our island.

Why come all this way
and not experience it?

Well, because everything I need
is right here.

If you change your mind and want
to see more of the real Saint Marie,

this is my mother's bar.

Oh, thank you. That's very kind.

My pleasure.

OK, I think we're done here.

So if you think there is anything
else might be important?

Well, since you ask.

Now, I'm not one to gossip,
but I had started to wonder

whether she wasn't one of those
older women who prey on younger men.

Oh. Sexually.

Yes. Anyone in particular?

Ah.

I think they were having
some kind of lover's tiff.

I couldn't hear what was being said

but it all sounded
terribly passionate.

I appreciate you've got more
questions,

but my patient's
already on the table.

Well, quite frankly,
as head of this establishment,

I would hope that
I could count on your cooperation.

Yes, yes, well, quite right.

Look, why don't we both act like
proper Englishmen and compromise?

Come and join me in theatre

and I'll do my best to answer
your questions there. Theatre?

Actually, it'll be nice to have
some time to chew the fat

with a fellow countryman.

Changing room's this way.

So you weren't in a relationship
with her?

Absolutely not.

Then can I ask you where
you were that night? In my room.

Alone? Yeah. Worse luck.

Hmm.

Is there anything else
I can help you with?

Yes. I'd like your passport.

Can we get some more light here,
please? I can't see a thing.

It's like trying to operate in
The Black Hole of Calcutta.

Oh, slightly better.

Ah, you're operating on her...

Right. Good.

Not sure this is quite the...

Beautiful woman, perfectly equipped.

Now, you tell me,

are these too small?

Well, I wouldn't...

Hold this for me, would you?

I did what I always do.

Worked until ten and then I went
home, took the phone off the hook.

With a job like this,
you need your downtime.

Clients can be pretty demanding.

I can imagine. And Dr Tipping?

Mr.

He's a surgeon. They're always a Mr.

Don't forget it.
It's guaranteed to set him off.

So, he can be difficult?

He has a temper. But he's an artist,
A perfectionist,

and people like that
need everything to be just so.

I spent the night on my yacht.

Caught up on a bit
of correspondence,

polished off the last of the
single malt and then turned in.

And can anyone confirm that or...?

You could take my word for it.

Failing that, the harbour master
should back me up.

Our clientele are rich,
important people.

You can understand why
they insist on total discretion.

Which is why you discourage your
nurses from even talking to them?

We're a sanctuary, Detective Bordey.
There's no autographs, no chit-chat.

Our staff are paid well
to obey the rules.

This is a business first
and a hospital second.

Oh, sorry.

Hello? Uh-huh. OK, yeah, Tell her
I can deal with it right away.

Look, I have to deal with this.

If there's anything else
I can help you with?

Could you...? Finger should do it.

To tell the truth, economic meltdown
and all that, we were,

we were struggling.

Anna came along with a new
marketing strategy, encouraged me

to push the whole privacy thing.

Top class clients,
total discretion assured.

And now here we are -
one big, happy family.

Light! I need light for God's sake!

Hot stones, sauna,
they're virtually sauteed

then they lie out in the sun,
which basically amounts to grilling.

Why don't they just go the whole hog
and pop themselves in the microwave?

Have you finished?
Sorry, was I ranting? Yes.

Well, quite frankly, Camille,
some things qualify for a rant.

I'm not sure what the exact
criterion is,

but I'm pretty sure it'd include

holding a stranger's nipple in place
while someone else sews it on!

Well, I'm glad you find it amusing,
I could be scarred for life.

Now, where were we? Oh, yes, where?

Mrs Dupree was last seen
around 9.30pm by her nurse,

Carlton Reynolds.
He gave her medication of heparin.

Dr Jones finished work and left
the clinic shortly after 10pm

and spent the evening alone at home.

Mr Tipping said he was on his boat.

The harbour master confirms
he saw lights on the boat,

though, of course, that doesn't mean
he was actually there.

One thing did come up, though -
Jayne Smythe thought that

Mrs Dupree may have had a lover's
tiff with one of the other guests.

Who? Paul Vincent.
He denies the liaison.

Says he's having a...
blepharoplasty?

Eyelid tuck, from the Greek.
And do you believe him?

About Mrs Dupree?

Oh, yes, I do.

Chief! The Commissioner's at the
station, he's looking for you.

He doesn't seem very happy.

I thought I made it perfectly clear.

Any disruption at the clinic was to
be kept to an absolute minimum.

Next you're confiscating passports?

Then you announce
it's no longer a suicide,

but a full blown murder enquiry.

Yes, well, there were significant
inconsistencies.

Inconsistencies?

Yes, sir. Such as?

Well, we were led to believe
that Valerie Dupree

drowned despite being fit,
healthy and a competent swimmer.

We found an empty pill bottle in her
room, but no sign of that medication

in her bloodstream and, and finally,

she makes herself
a very expensive cup of tea

and walks out and kills herself
halfway through drinking it.

The tea conundrum.

Tell me, at least you've managed
to establish some kind of motive.

A reason anyone would have
wanted her dead?

Well, we're working on that, sir.

All right.

Talk me through the murder.
How was she killed?

Well, we're working on that, too,
sir. Any evidence of an assault?

No, sir. Witnesses?

So the sum total of the evidence
that led you to put this island's

most wealthy and most influential
people under virtual house arrest

consists of a few inconsistencies
and a half-drunk cup of tea.

I'm going to let you run with this.

For now.

Not because I think you're right,

but simply because there is
something I've always wanted

to say since I joined the force.

You've got 24 hours
to solve this case.

Do we understand each other?

Yes, sir.

Sir.

Commissioner.

He says he has every faith in us.
So let's set up the board.

Dwayne. Chief.

Go through the passports, I want full
background checks on everyone
at the clinic -

staff and guests. I'm on it.
Fidel. Sir.

The victim was seen angry during
a phone call. Everyone assumes

it was with her wayward husband -
let's double check. Sir.

Camille. I want you to have another
crack at this Paul Vincent.

We have a witness saying
they'd had a disagreement.

If they weren't having an affair,
what were they talking about?

Threaten to arrest him
for wasting police time.

It will be my pleasure.

I thought we'd done this.
I told you, I hardly knew the woman.

Yeah, I believe you weren't
having an affair.

But we still have a witness
who saw an argument.

We weren't arguing.

Then what?

Look...

how about we make a deal?

I'll answer your questions
if you give me my passport back.

I run my own business
and our biggest client

is on the verge of switching
to a rival supplier.

What kind of business?

Flowers.

So you're a florist?

It's the perfect product.

Perishable and constant demand.

I built the firm up from nothing

and now we've got 20 people
on the payroll.

And if I don't get back to talk
to my clients in person

we'll all be out of a job.

OK, we can do a deal.

You answer my questions
and maybe I won't arrest you.

Look.

I tried my best to be nice, but she
just wouldn't take no for an answer.

In the end, I had to make
my feelings clear.

That's it? That's it.
She didn't like it.

I didn't want a big drama so I went
back to my room and stayed there.

Ah, which means
you still have no alibi.

So business or not, there's no way I
can sanction you leaving the island.

What if someone
could prove where I was?

So you don't deny you spent the
whole night in Paul Vincent's room?

No. Then why lie
and say you went home?

I forbid my staff from even starting
conversations with the clients.

So how would it look if they knew
I was sleeping with one of them?

You know, I can't imagine
what Mr Tipping would do.

What time did you go and meet him?

So I went after I finished work

and Carlton, he was leaving.

And what time was that?

Ten, maybe a few minutes afterwards.

Paul was waiting for me.

I know that it was
a stupid thing to do,

but Paul can be a very determined
man and that can be hard to resist.

Aren't you going to get that?

No, no, it's fine.
That's not important.

Look, Paul and I spent
the entire night together.

There is no way
he could have killed anyone.

And career or no career, if I have
to, I will swear to that in court.

So am I in the clear?

Dr Jones has confirmed your alibi.

So when can I have my passport back?

All papers will be returned the
moment the case is officially closed.

But if I'm no longer a suspect...

Hey, she backed you up.
She didn't have to.

Tyre pas trop sur la corde.

Don't push your luck.

Oh!

Chief. Paul Vincent's records.

All checks out.

Born right here in Honore Hospital.
And no criminal record.

No-one else at the clinic
has anything previous either.

What about her phone?

We're still waiting for the network
to get back to us.

If she drowned,
she can't have been moved.

If she was moved,
she can't have drowned.

And why abandon an expensive
cup of tea halfway through?

Well, maybe she was disturbed,
she had a visitor

or she just didn't like it.

No, no, no, no, this is
Da Hong Pao we're talking about.

It's priceless.

Which suggests that, for some
reason, she couldn't finish it.

But why?

Unless...

If she was poisoned

then wouldn't the lab have picked it
up in her bloodstream? Possibly.

But if I'm right, whatever poisoned
her should still be

present in the tea itself
and in a much higher concentration.

Which, in theory, would make it
easier to detect

even with rather rudimentary
equipment like this.

I didn't even know we had this.

It's actually mine. You know you
can get these on the Internet?

It's still quite functional,

especially if you pimp it with
a little ammonium metavanadate.

So, anyway,
five different chemical reagents.

Any abnormal chemical groups
will react with the appropriate

reagent and produce an almost
instant colour change.

How instant is instant?
Any second now.

Nothing. Which means it's just...

Tea.

It's just tea.

OK, so what now?

I think we should put the kettle on.

The pot was moved,
damaged in the process

then put back in the wrong place,
leaving a ring.

Now, you've seen the clinic -
it's spotless.

So the cleaner would have cleaned
the ring on the floor

during the daily round.

So we can infer the damage
was done the previous night.

But how? We know there wasn't
a struggle - she had no injuries.

What if she knocked it
on the way to the pool?

A suicidal woman carefully
replaces a damaged pot

before lowering herself
silently into the water?

No. The tea.
The tea has to hold the key.

If it didn't poison her, why prepare
it and only drink half a cup?

She was disturbed. By her killer.

Carlton Reynolds was the last
person to see her.

Have you got Dr Jones'
new statement? Yes, it's here.

She saw Carlton last night,
didn't she?

Yes. She said it was past ten.

Yes, but he told us
he went home around 9.30.

Which gives him 30 minutes
to have murdered Valerie Dupree.

Come. Let's see where he's off to.

But the inspector said
to bring him in.

Ah, it's called initiative.

Yeah, it's also called disobeying a
direct order from a senior officer.

Dwayne, and now
he's getting away, look.

Come on, baby.

OK, how about
a sump full of fresh oil?

And this time I won't get it
from the tractor.

Ah, good girl.

What's he doing? I don't know.

You know there's absolutely
no point in running.

Hey!

You see that? Watch and learn.

Go on, you. Don't struggle,
you make it worse for yourself.

That's the fourth time
you've tested that tea.

One can't be too thorough, sergeant.

Fidel.

He hit me.

It's a free clinic.
No-one pays a penny.

I only take what's about to expire -

half-opened boxes,
ready to be disposed of.

Perfectly good medication
thrown away? It's crazy.

So when you told us
you left the clinic at 9.30?

I stop off at the pharmacy.

I just take a few things each time.

That way, no-one notices. When I
have enough, I advertise a clinic.

It's mostly women, children,
mothers.

People who need help but
can't afford the doctor's bills.

So you've been running an unlicensed
clinic with stolen medication?

Why run then?

You assaulted a police officer.

I thought Dr Jones had sent you.

I guess I just reacted.

I'm sorry about your nose.

I'd be happy to take a look at it?

What's your relationship
with Valerie Dupree?

I was her nurse. When Mrs Dupree
arrived, she was heartbroken.

She just wanted to talk.

Her husband had had an affair.

A younger woman.

She panicked, ran out and
arranged to have surgery.

But now she was here,
nothing had changed.

She was scared and lonely.

I listened to her. That's all.

You say Valerie was scared.

That sounds like an unusual emotion.

Her world had just
caved in around her.

Her husband doesn't love her.

No children, friends taking sides

and now a face
she don't even recognise.

Wouldn't you be afraid to
face the world again?

You think she was unhappy
with her surgery?

I know she was. She had
already contacted her lawyer.

Listen, that night,
when I was with her,

I knew she wanted to talk,

wanted someone to listen.

But I was tired.

It'd been a long day.

So I walked away.

I could have helped her

and I just walked away.

And that's something I have got to
live with for the rest of my life.

Thank you. You've been most helpful.

I think we have all we need here.

So am I free to go?

Unless Officer Best
wishes to make a complaint?

I guess we both made a mistake.

Thank you.

Dwayne, see that nurse Reynolds
gets his property back.

Sir.

The phone company.

Yes. Valerie Dupree made three
phone calls on the day she died.

All to the same number in Paris.

I just checked it out.
It was a French lawyer.

She was going to make
a complaint about the clinic.

I think we may have
found our motive.

Sorry, sorry.
I was held up in surgery.

Well, I assume your presence here
means we're making progress?

Possibly.

Did you know that Valerie Dupree
made three calls to

a firm of personal injury lawyers
the same day she died?

Please.

You're implying I murdered her

because she threatened legal action
against my clinic?

People have been killed for less.

Do you recognise the name
of this lawyer?

No, I've never heard of him.

Good, because that's
my shopping list -

it says bananas and sun block.

Your eyesight's failing,
isn't it, Mr Tipping?

Why else would you keep complaining
about the light in theatre?

Yet if you were just short sighted,

why not wear glasses
or contact lenses?

It all suggests to me this is more
than a simple refractive problem.

It started about a year ago.

I thought it was just old age,
that I needed glasses. But...

things got worse.

In the end, I got on a plane

and went to see an old colleague
back at Moorfields.

Turns out I'm a bit of a rarity.

I have retinitis pigmentosa.

The sight fades, day by day.

I think the word he used
was inexorable.

There is no treatment.

I'll end up blind.

And yet you continue to operate?

Well, what I do here
isn't real surgery.

Besides, most of the procedures

I could do with my bloody eyes
closed anyway.

Look, Inspector...

I'm a surgeon, this...

is my life.

I thought I could cope,

that I had another maybe 12 months.

But...

Valerie Dupree's face
simply wasn't up to snuff.

Her scars were going to be visible -
she had every right to complain.

But I never...

I never imagined that it
would make her take her own life.

You still believe
she committed suicide?

Yes, I do. I'm not proud of
what happened, Inspector.

I'm prepared to take
my share of the blame.

I shouldn't have operated on her.

But that doesn't make me a murderer.

I just can't see a way through.

I mean, Tipping had a motive
but I don't believe he's a killer.

Carlton was the only one
who had the opportunity,

but would he really kill
to cover up his theft?

Paul Vincent? Though he swears
there was no relationship.

Quite. And this looks nothing
like a crime of passion.

Dr Jones is also missing means,
motive and opportunity.

Maybe this will be the one
that gets away. Hmm?

We still have a bit of time left.

Not enough.

Once we give them their passports
back, they'll all be gone.

No. Something new will turn up
tomorrow.

So, any plans for tonight?

Oh, yeah, I thought
I'd wait till it gets dark

then spend a couple of hours
with Lucy.

Excuse me?

I've had her since I was fourteen.

Christmas 1984.

You gave your telescope a name?

Long John Silver has a telescope.

Lucy is a precision
optical instrument.

I realised that there's one
good thing about living in a shack

on a beach on an island
in the middle of nowhere -

zero light pollution.

And you?

Oh, just taking it easy.

Nothing really.

Liming? Is that liming?

No, not exactly.

You see, I hear people say that,
that they're doing nothing,

but what does it exactly consist of?

What are its constituent parts?
Define nothing.

I'm not sure I understand
the question.

Yeah, that's just it, isn't it?

You don't understand the question
and, no matter how hard I try,

I can't seem to understand
the answer.

Maybe some things are supposed
to remain a puzzle.

Like the mysterious death
of Valerie Dupree.

Yeah,
let's see what tomorrow brings.

Good night.

Good night, Lucy.

Good night, Camille.

Morning, Chief.

Anything?

Honore police station.

Ah, yes, hold on one moment, please.

Sir, it's the Commissioner.

He says your 24 hours are up,

we need to return the passports
to the clinic guests.

So that's it, I can go?

That's it. You can get back
to running your floral empire.

Yes, I can. You never mentioned
you were born on Saint Marie.

I read your paper, it says you
were born here in Honore.

Sure. My parents moved off
the island when I was ten.

So, when I saw the clinic was here,
I had to give them a call.

You can't fight fate.

I got to go.

I just thought it was strange,
that's all.

When I was at the clinic earlier,
I spoke to him in French.

At the time, I thought he just hadn't
heard me, but how is it that someone

who'd have gone to school here
doesn't know a word of French?

Well, I know plenty of people
who went to school in England

who can't speak English.

Maman, do you remember a boy called
Paul Vincent?

Late 1970s, local family.

No. I knew the Vincent family,
but they had two girls.

No, wait, they had a son who died
very young.

It was so sad.

I think his name was Paul.

But maybe I'm wrong.

Ms Smythe looks happy.

How do you know? She can't smile.

In fact, she's had
so much work done,

I'm surprised she can move a muscle.

She didn't drink it
because she couldn't drink it.

The answer's been staring me
in the face. Quite literally.

'Our clientele are rich,
important people.'

Yes?

'They insist on total discretion.'

'This is a business first
and a hospital second.'

I need a list of all the clients in
the clinic. You've had it, sir.

Not the ones there now, well, those
too, but going back, say, two years.

And crosscheck with
the immigration records -

when they arrived in Saint Marie
and when they left.

Dwayne, get everyone together,
Commissioner too.

I'll be at the clinic in an hour.

Camille, with me. Where to?

The public records office
and then the graveyard, obviously.

Bye.

Chief!

Paul Vincent has left the clinic.

Cab driver said he's gone down
to the marina. Come!

Toss a coin?

No way, it plays havoc with my hair.

Whoa!

That way!

Dwayne! Dwayne!

Not on my watch.

Aargh!

I honestly didn't expect
that to work.

This had better be good.

No. It had better astound me.

I've called you all here

because Valerie Dupree

did not commit suicide.

Every murder investigation
has to focus on three things -

means, motive and opportunity.

Usually those things all point
towards one person.

However, in this case, only
nurse Carlton Reynolds, the last

person to see the victim alive,
seems to have the opportunity.

On the night of the murder,

you thought she wanted
to tell you something.

You said she seemed frightened,
wanted to leave the clinic.

Yes.

You assumed it was
fear of the future, however,

I now believe
she was afraid for her life.

The Jacaranda Clinic prides
itself on absolute discretion.

Clients quietly come and go.

As Sergeant Bordey said,

it's like they've never
actually been here at all.

And that's the whole point,
isn't it, Dr Jones?

Please, can I have your phone?

Thank you.

And the other one?

I thought having two phones
was strange, but I dismissed it.

That was a mistake.

Because once I realised

that the white one
was for the legitimate clinic

and the black one was for some
kind of illegal operation...

Yes.

Everything started
to fit together.

White for good, black for bad.

Your own private joke
at everyone else's expense.

Because it's essential you know
exactly who's ringing you, isn't it?

You told me that the clinic was
losing money until Dr Jones arrived.

You explained how she'd turned
the place around

with a new marketing strategy.

You didn't restructure the
existing business at all, did you?

You simply used it
as cover for another one.

Helping criminals begin new lives.

By finding someone
of a similar age to them

who died young
and stealing their details.

You provided new faces
and new identities.

St Marie is the perfect location.

No electronic records means

it's almost impossible for police
and borders to crosscheck.

You know, I have absolutely no idea
who this gentleman is,

but I do know
he is not Paul Vincent.

The real Paul Vincent died
over 35 years ago as a small child.

Absolute rot! Selwyn?

Carry on, Inspector.

You can't make these allegations
without proof!

Records.

Of clients who have stayed at
the clinic over the past two years.

Among them, you'll find 18 people
also recorded as deceased.

I understand your medical prowess
may be on the wane,

but even in your heyday, I doubt
you could resurrect the dead.

No, the clinic was being used as a
one-stop shop for identity theft

with the occasional spot of
cosmetic surgery when needed -

as in Mr Vincent's case -
to finish the job.

All run by Dr Jones,
under everyone's nose.

We've already established
Valerie Dupree was frightened

the night that she died.

We also have a witness who saw her
clearly uncomfortable

in the presence of the man
we know as Paul Vincent.

'I think they were having
some kind of lover's tiff.'

Things weren't quite as they seemed.

I now believe that Valerie Dupree
had somehow discovered

the truth behind what Dr Jones
and her special clients were up to.

She was, in fact,
petrified of Mr Vincent.

So he's the murderer?
Is that what you're saying?

This man is undoubtedly a criminal,

but he is not,
as far as I'm aware, a murderer.

Then who is?

Valerie Dupree's life was taken

by the only person who had
the opportunity.

Carlton Reynolds.

No! I swear!

I didn't do it!

The first thing that bothered me
about this case

was a simple cup of tea.

Why go to the trouble of making
an expensive pot of tea

yet fail to drink it?

Unless you were disturbed.

In this case, by their killer.

Valerie Dupree was killed by the
most powerful toxin known to man -

a substance this clinic uses
every day

yet which no lab would ever find
unless they were looking for it -

botulinum toxin.

Harmless enough
when used to remove wrinkles

yet fatal in the hands of a killer.

Administered unwittingly
by Carlton Reynolds...

but prepared very deliberately
by Dr Anna Jones.

You waited for the moment that
Valerie's Heparin injection

was ready to be administered

and then you swapped it for a
massive overdose of botulinum toxin.

Carlton continued his rounds,

not knowing he was now carrying
a lethal syringe.

What happened?
Did she come to see you?

Perhaps to tell you
she had called her lawyer

and was going to complain?

Whatever she was planning,
she never got that far, did she?

Instead, I think she overheard

exactly what was going on
at the Jacaranda.

An illegal identity fraud racket

involving some
very unpleasant people.

You knew you had to silence her.

And that what you'd added
to her medication would paralyse

every muscle in Valerie Dupree's
body within minutes.

With her lungs paralysed
and unable to breathe,

Valerie died in her own bed.

You then simply moved her,

silent and unseen, on a trolley
like any other patient.

Yet the trolley had a bent wheel,
making it difficult to manoeuvre.

Which was why you knocked into
a terracotta plant pot by the pool.

Then you slid the body of
Valerie Dupree into the pool

to make it look like
she'd drowned herself.

All so that your criminal
endeavours weren't exposed.

Valerie felt she'd lost her beauty
as well as her husband,

but you took away
the most precious thing of all -

her life.

Lock her up.

My dear fellow,

it seems I may have been a little
harsh on the phone the other day.

What can I do to make it up to you?

Ohhh.

It seems our mysterious Mr Vincent's
real name is Emilio Suarez.

Big time drug runner. Wanted
in Florida and five other states.

With a bit of luck,
they'll throw away the key.

I couldn't agree more.
Anything else come in?

Nothing. It's still quiet.

Right, well, in that case, I suppose
we should just, you know, lime?

I've actually drawn up a schedule
for the rest of the week.

Here.

It's pretty self explanatory.

Nothing too taxing but then
I suppose that's the point.

OK. So, it's Friday,

it's 12.02 and we are playing...

My favourite board game.

Unless anyone has any objections?
Well, I...

OK, Fidel. You're in the hot seat.

Professor Plum, in the dining room,
with the lead piping?

Is that wrong?

I think we've established
Professor Plum was

nowhere near the piping,
lead or otherwise.

OK. Dwayne?

This is it? This is the game?

OK, another pass. Camille?

Can we, please, play something else?

Like what?

I don't know. Twister?

Hide and seek?

Don't be so childish. Come on.

Right.

Colonel Mustard? No.

Miss Scarlet. I told you,
you can't keep shouting out names,

it doesn't work like that.

Reverend Green. No!

Well, one of them must be right!

Yes, but that's hardly the point,
is it?

Look, can we please just
play the game properly? No.

Ah. Jayne Smythe looks
ten years younger.

Amazing what love can do.

This is it?

Sergeant Bordey, I'm going to
count down from five

and then, by the officially ratified
Poole family rules of Cluedo,

you miss your turn.

Five, four...

You should try it you know - love.

Look, are we playing this game
or not? All I'm saying is...

Right. Fine, you win. Game over.

One caught in an explosion,
the other one shot dead.

I hope they haven't wasted
any money on the lottery.

These are actual treasure hunters,
is that right?

I'm afraid they are.

Maybe you found something.

Like what? You tell us.

I get half. That was the deal.

I was just wondering about...
If there was any word from London?

Yes. No.

Have you got a problem with me? Yes.

Someone clearly wants us to believe

these are deaths brought about
by a dead pirate's curse.

Whoever it is,
they're after me, aren't they?