Death in Paradise

Ooh, it's cold and it's grey out there today.

However, never fear because.

Christmas Day is less than a week away.

We're all feeling warm and cosy and twinkly on the inside.

But if you're not, don't worry, here's something...

that will get you in the festive mood.

OK, but it's been nearly a week now WATER DRIPS

and the water tank is still leaking.

I appreciate you've got other properties to look after

but, it's just my girlfriend's coming round on Christmas Day

and she's not going to be over the moon if it's like.

Niagara Falls in here.

No, I understand you're a very busy man, Mr Driscoll.

Got a pick-up for a Mrs Jenkins at 32 Wardsby Villas.

Going to Streatham High Road. Any takers?

41. I'm on that, Sal.

DISTANT CHATTER.

He's seen you.

Oi!

Hey, go, go. You idiots!

Bye, loser!

41. I'm going to need some roadside assistance.

Not again, Colin.

HE SIGHS.

One day, Colin.

One day.

Oh, champagne, yeah, that goes right in the fridge. Thanks.

I found Guy Fawkes loitering in the hallway. Where do you want him?

Down on the beach, please.

Great.

Oh, Mari, Mari, no.

No swimming please. The pool area is out of bounds.

Why? Cos it's all set up for the party and I don't want

the table-wear getting splooshed with water.

It was never like this when Mum had parties.

They were actually fun.

Philip, you've a conference call coming up.

I never tire of it, you know.

Watching the old girls pass by.

Seeing your empire before you.

More like, I'm reminded just how small my part is in it all.

I think the shareholders in New York would disagree.

LOUNGE MUSIC.

LIGHT CHATTER.

SHE EXHALES SHARPLY.

You know, you just can't get away with that anymore.

Excuse me a moment.

Honey, what is your ex-wife doing here?

Well, I couldn't not invite her.

Bliss, what a wonderful party.

Better than anything I ever threw here.

That's kind of what I was going for.

Then you've surpassed yourself.

I'm going to see if I can get a top-up.

MUSIC CONTINUES.

SHE SIGHS.

God, this music's awful.

RUSTLING.

Hello? Is someone there?

MUSIC ENDS.

CLAPPING.

DISTANT BANG.

Bit eager with the fireworks.

I... I don't know what to say.

It's my favourite.

And not cheap.

By deduction, I think I can guess who gave me this.

Inspector?

Oh, I might go over budget a little. You are the Commissioner, after all.

I will enjoy it very much.

Well, that just leaves me.

And by process of elimination, dictates it must be you

who gave it to me so, let's see.

It's nice and soft.

Maybe, a fancy new tie.

And it is...

Socks.

You bought me, plain, brown socks.

You see, I realised in all the time I worked with you,

I actually know very little about you.

But then I remembered... That I wear socks?

There's just something about you that makes me think of... socks.

Thank you, sir. Much appreciated.

Right, time for a drink, I think.

Good idea.

Evening, Neville! Evening, Catherine.

Four of your famous rum punches, please. With pleasure.

So, I hung a little sprig of mistletoe above your table.

I thought it might give you a chance to, you know, kiss Florence.

Right, I... I'm not sure...

Is that really my... my style, do we think?

PHONE BUZZES.

Probably not.

It would involve you actually doing something.

That's a tad unfair, Catherine. I did try and do something.

It's just events conspired against me.

You haven't told me.

What happened that night?

You were all ready to tell Florence how you felt.

What I wanted to say was...

And then nothing happened!

I need a few more rum punches inside me before we open that can

of worms, Catherine.

Thank you.

OK, thank you.

It's a divert from the station.

Party's over, I reckon.

Guy called Philip Carlton, looks like he shot himself.

There was going to be a fireworks display at 11 o'clock.

The man we hired to organize it came down here a few minutes before.

And that's when he... he found...

The victim owns the villa, you said? It was his party?

It was actually his wife's idea.

Philip Carlton was a well-respected businessman.

He owned the Carlton Atlas Shipping Company.

Must have had a few quid going spare, then? I'd say so.

Marlon, photographs, please.

And we should bag the gun.

The villa's not that far away.

I'm surprised no-one heard the gunshot?

I was on the terrace. I feel like such a fool.

DISTANT BANG

I thought it was one of the fireworks going off by mistake.

What time was this? Quarter to 11.

Er, Sarge. We got a mobile phone.

It's locked.

Pass code is four-one-eight-two.

I've been working with Philip now for nearly 40 years.

There's not much I don't know about him.

Looks like the last thing the victim

did was to record a video at 10:43.

That's two minutes before the shot was fired.

I... I don't think this will come as any surprise to you.

I'm sure you'll understand this has to happen, right now, right here.

So, Mr Carlton recorded these final few words.

And then, took his own life.

CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKS.

Philip had always suffered from down days, as he called them.

And you're his wife, Mrs Carlton?

Ex-wife, but I kept the surname.

After 40 years, I'd grown rather fond of it.

I'm the latest incumbent, Inspector.

Bliss Monroe.

Oh, so you didn't take your husband's surname?

No, I don't believe in that kind of thing.

It's regressive and archaic.

OK, sure.

What Natasha's saying is Philip was prone to

the odd bout of depression.

And had Mr Carlton been particularly downcast of late?

A little, I'd say, yes.

Dad always found this time of year hard, didn't he?

Yes, Philip lost his father at Christmas.

I mean, it was years ago, but

they had a very difficult relationship, strained, at best.

It haunted Philip that he never made peace with his father.

I tried to get him to speak to my therapist.

I told him he had to deal with these issues,

not bottle them up.

But he could be so stubborn.

And you think this is what Mr Carlton was referring to

in the message he left? It has to be.

This afternoon, he looked so lost.

I should've said something.

But I thought, "He always picks himself up, dusts himself down."

Always.

I've, finished processing the scene.

I'll get the paperwork written up.

And I'll speak to the coroner.

Poor family. Some Christmas, huh?

FOOTSTEPS APPROACH.

DOOR LOCK CLUNKS.

What are you doing at your parents' house?

You're meant to be spending Christmas here with me?

No, right, of course.

I can appreciate why you'd want to be somewhere else.

So, maybe I should come up and be with you all?

No, no, I understand. Yeah, silly idea.

Proper talk?

I see.

Yeah, well, we can do that when you get back.

OK. Bye, love.

WATER DRIPS.

ENGINE TURNS OFF.

Let's go, see if we can't spread a little Christmas joy.

What do you say, Officer Pryce?

I'll try my best, Commissioner.

But I'm finding it very hard to raise a smile myself,

dressed like this.

Stop complaining.

And put your hat on.

Now, where's my sack?

PHONE BUZZES.

Hello, Officer Pryce speaking.

Er, yes, he's, he's right here.

Commissioner, it's your secretary.

She's got someone called... Interpol on the line for you.

The hotel has a spa and pool.

And on Christmas Day we go down the beach to swim

and eat barbecued fish.