Death in Paradise

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

What gave us away?

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

Vincent Carter. This is the prisoner, Leon Hamilton.

He is officially now in your custody...

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

Thank you, Vincent.

Mr Hamilton, you understand that, on arrival,

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

Pardon.

After you.

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

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

Perhaps when you get out.

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

- Good book? - Not really.

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

Now that was a good book,

unlike this, where the murder victim died

actually clutching a photograph of his killer.

From what I've read so far, this case could only have been easier

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

Then you wouldn't need a murder detective at all. A trained chimp would suffice.

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

I do love a good murder.

Whoa!

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

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

- Do you have to? - I really don't feel too good.

Very well.

Everything OK?

He wants to stretch his legs for a bit.

I'll come with you.

Do you think you'll be sick?

A warning would be appreciated if you do.

Just so that I can take wind direction into account, take evasive action.

I can't say I blame you.

Excuse me!

Never liked waves,

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

That was a ferry.

The "SS Vomit" I think it was called.

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

Vincent!

Nobody move! Vincent!

- What happened? - Leon Hamilton, the prisoner. I'm afraid we lost him.

- He got away? - No. "Lost him" as in...

- You know, dead. - What was it? A heart attack?

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

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

Murdered. Stabbed, to be precise.

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

I want a full passenger list.

Background checks, see if you can find any link with the deceased.

- Don't forget the ferry crew. - And you didn't see who it was?

I looked away for one second.

- What? - Nothing.

- You think it's amusing? - No.

- Have you called the commissioner yet? - No, why?

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

- Yeah. - Well, it didn't, did it?

- Go smoothly? - No.

- Do you want me to come with you? - I'm not a child!

OK!

Have you any idea how much paperwork this will generate?

What on earth were you doing?

How can someone murder the person standing next to you, and you not even notice?

I mean, it should be funny. It sounds funny. They're laughing at Government House,

laughing when they see me.

But I'm not laughing. Where were you?

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

I've spoken to your superiors.

You will stay on the island until I release you.

- Sir, I... - It isn't a request.

They're arranging some accommodation for you,

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

- Sir. - Now get out of my sight!

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

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

I could understand if he was secretly poisoned, in fact, secretly anything!

I could even forgive a gunshot from another boat, or a jet ski or a helicopter.

But no, a knife was plunged into his back

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

- Sir. - Sir.

Sir.

Are you OK?

The commissioner and I had a frank exchange of views,

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

as far as the prisoner's transfer was concerned.

I wholeheartedly agreed with him,

and suggested I be shipped back to London in disgrace.

He refused, but it was worth a try.

So, as I'm still stuck here,

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

Who caused me no little embarrassment if it's the last thing I ever do.

In fact, to coin a phrase, "this time it's personal".

Where is the bin?

There is never a bin!

Thank you.

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

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

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

And you think it was? Instantaneous?

I may have missed the actual blow, Camille,

but I think I'd have noticed if he'd started screaming and clutching at his back.

Sorry.

Right. What about the passengers?

We've got witness statements, but it will take a while to cross-check them.

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

I want to know details of his circle.

Business associates, lovers, jealous siblings,

anyone who may have had a reason to kill him.

I also want the autopsy report and any forensics on the murder weapon

on my desk the second they're done.

Yes, sir.

So where do we start?

Well, means and opportunity are self-evident, so the key has to be motive.

Who wanted Leon Hamilton dead?

He's dead. And you owe me fifty grand.

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

Why?

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

- That still leaves 130 suspects. - And none of them saw anything?

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

when the victim was found dead.

Meaning someone could have swum to shore after the murder.

So we can't even be sure that the killer

was still on the ferry when you got to Saint-Marie?

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

Just about 900.

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

A tad underdeveloped, you might say.

What actually happened?

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

- When it went under, they all lost their money. - It was worse than that.

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

Other people put their pension funds in.

- It destroyed a lot of lives. - That's terrible.

The construction company was based in Guadeloupe.

Leon Hamilton was charged with embezzlement and false accounting.

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

- So that justice could be seen to be done. - Yes.

The commissioner's name is on here, too.

- So he knew Leon Hamilton? - I doubt it. But officially...

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

I imagine it does.

Who wants to be the first to interview him?

No?

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

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

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

Marvellous.

That's odd.

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

Is that important?

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

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

Did he actually say he was seasick?

No.

- Then it could have been something else. - I suppose so.

Fidel, tell them I want a toxicology report on the victim, just to be on the safe side.

Yes, sir.

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

They talked about the book he was reading?

Yep, that was before we went outside.

Said she loved a good murder.

Suzie Park?

On her way to visit grandparents in Saint-Marie.

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

In fact, we should check everyone on the passengers list against the investors list.

- OK, I know this guy. - Who?

- Samuel King. - Yes?

- He's bad news. - Violent?

- Very. - Put him on the A pile.

Thank you.

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

to formally identify the body.

OK, go and meet her. See if you can get her story while you're at it.

- OK. - It's late. We should call it a day.

How was your day?

That bad, eh? Although I'm assuming no one actually died.

Which means I almost certainly have you beat.

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

- That's the third one this week. - What?

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

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

- Morning, team. - Morning, sir.

- Chief. - Where were you last night?

Ah. Yes, sorry, I went straight home. Thought I'd finish these.

- And? - Hopeless.

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

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

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

- They'll phone them through. - OK. Dwayne and Fidel,

start rounding up everyone on our A list.

- Let's eliminate who we can. - Yes, Chief.

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

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

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

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