Ah! This is my favourite spot.
Yes, it really is very beautiful.
I'm very blessed.
Paradise Bay is more like a family than a care home. Hm!
Pretty dysfunctional family, if you ask me.
No-one did, Barbara.
Oh, my cousin Eloise from the UK.
Oh, I wasn't aware Nancy had relatives in England.
Oh, we've only recently connected.
My commiserations. Still, can't choose your family, can you?
Now, now, Barbara.
Oh, that's all right, Phillipe.
Babs is only having fun.
Speaking of which, coming to bingo?
Wouldn't miss it for the world.
I look forward to giving you another fine thrashing.
Over my dead body.
Chance would be a fine thing.
67. Yes!
Stairway to heaven, 67.
Quick, you've got to mark it.
67. You've got to mark 67 with your dabber.
Oh. That's how you keep track. OK.
You don't play back home?
No. Legs 11...
Games of chance not really my bag.
Oh, bingo's not a game of chance,
not the way I play it.
How do you play it?
She cheats!
Is that the bleating of a sore loser I can hear?
88. Two fat ladies, 88.
Ah, my daughter, Oona.
Oona, here!
Here. We've saved you a place.
We need to talk - in private.
Eloise has never played before. Can you imagine?
22. Two little ducks, 22.
Quack-quack!
Nancy comes across as all sweetness and light,
but underneath that outfit beats the heart of a scoundrel.
13.
Unlucky for some, 13.
House!
I have house!
Miss Mitchell has a full house.
How do you like them apples, then?
Mum? Don't.
I just need to be left alone.
Hmph! Who's the sore loser now?
Stupid.
Stupid, stupid woman.
She is coming back, though, right?
I don't know.
I've never seen her like this.
Oh, she's just in a strop.
Oh, come on, let's just crack on.
Well, now, Barbara, you weren't exactly magnanimous in victory.
Maybe just give her a few more minutes
to pull herself together.
You know, collecting shells, or conchology,
to give it its proper scientific name,
is one of the fastest-growing hobbies in the world,
and that's why I think it would make an excellent first topic for my blog.
Can't wait to read it, Inspector.
Right? Right.
Do you have to go over every bump on the way?
It's not as easy as it looks, sir.
Wahey! There he is.
Why?
Why are you applauding? Sir, you've just been discharged.
We had to come and celebrate. Celebrate what?
Doctors say I can't return to work, confined to home,
like an invalid.
You were shot, Selwyn.
You're lucky to be alive.
Sir, cheer up. Most people your age would leap at the chance
of a bit of R&R.
Sorry.
Most people my age, Inspector?
Yeah, er...
So, er, that was Darlene.
There's been a murder at the Paradise Bay care home.
OK, we're on the way. Marlon?
Bye, sir.
Be careful of the bumps. He gets a bit grouchy.
That won't be necessary.
I can...
..manage...
..perfectly on my own.
Nancy Martin, 75.
She was playing bingo in the activities room
with the other residents.
She left alone, and when someone went to look for her,
they found this.
Murder weapon.
Stabbed with her own knitting needle.
It's been wiped, but there's significant traces of blood on it.
Paramedics found a single puncture wound
to the abdomen.
It's stopped. Shame.
1920s antique, if I'm not mistaken.
Whoever did this wasn't after cash.
What's this?
Looks like an old CCTV still.
Hmm.
"Jeremy Heston, Gatwick, July 23rd 1993."
No signs of a struggle.
You said she was playing bingo just before the murder?
She left the activities room at 15.30
and was found dead at 15.45.
Any witnesses? CCTV?
Everyone else in the care home
was in the activities room at the time.
Everyone?
Apart from Nancy Martin. And the murderer.
Who found the body?
She was sitting on a bench.
Martin!
I thought she was asleep, but...
Martin!
...she wasn't.
She was dead.
Who would want to murder Nancy?
So gentle and...
Oh, spare us the crocodile tears, Babs.
Mum's dead.
You don't have to pretend that you're sad about it.
Oona.
You're Nancy's daughter?
Adopted.
Oona Martin.
And, yes, Nancy was my mum.
I'm sorry for your loss.
Can you think of any reason why someone would do this?
Did Nancy have any enemies, anyone with a grudge?
Oh, come on!
No. None of this makes any sense.
Perhaps further questioning could wait until tomorrow.
It's getting late.
Our residents are elderly, and emotions are running high.
Inspector?
Um, yeah, yeah, sure.
We'll need a list of everyone who was in the room
at the time of the murder. Why? You can't think we're suspects?
Whoever did this is long gone.
Yeah, why don't you put up a perimeter
and some roadblocks, or whatever the police usually do?
I'm sorry, and you are?
Eloise Mirie. I'm just visiting.
Miss Mirie is Nancy's cousin.
Well, second cousin once removed.
Look, I don't want to sound insensitive
but I only met Nancy for the first time
a couple of days ago.
Really don't need to get caught up in...
..whatever is going on here.
What's going on here is a murder investigation.
And I have a whole roomful of alibis.
Miss Mirie has a point.
No-one left this room after Nancy did.
Er, not until we went to find her.
Does the name Jeremy Heston mean anything to anyone?
Why? Is he a suspect?
Just a name that's come up in the investigation.
Why did Nancy leave the bingo game?
She was angry. I'd just won a full house...
A full house? That's all 15 numbers, yes?
Which you won when the number 13 was drawn.
How is this relevant, Inspector?
Well, this is Nancy's bingo card, right?
Now, I'm no expert, but...
..it seems to me
that Nancy had made full house two numbers previously,
when 88 was drawn.
So why didn't she shout house?
Her winning number was right there on the monitor.
How did she miss it?
Maybe she wasn't paying attention.
A bingo fanatic one number away from a full house?
It's not likely she wasn't paying attention.
I've boxed Nancy's belongings
to go through back at the station.
OK, so, I checked the perimeter.
Only way in or out is through the front gates.
Security fencing all around.
If everyone at the care home was in the activities room
when Nancy was murdered...
..that means the killer must have broken in somehow.
Over the fence?
Not impossible, but not easy.
And then what?
Just wander the gardens waiting for Nancy to arrive?
Nancy left unexpectedly.
How did the killer know where she would be?
Exactly.
Unless they followed her out.
You think the murderer came from inside the care home?
I think it's more likely than a random killer
climbing the fence and then just hanging around,
waiting for a victim to show up.
But let's keep an open mind.
I have been wrong before.
Ah, fine, you're back.
He's been so difficult!
A commissioner's work does not stop, Inspector,
especially when people are being murdered in care homes.
Miss Bordey disapproves.
Maybe YOU can talk sense into him.
Well, actually, Catherine, I do have a question.
Sir? Hmm?
Does the name Jeremy Heston mean anything to you?
This photo was found in the victim's pocket,
dated July 23rd 1993.
July 23rd 1993?
Yes.
Oh, my gosh.
Maybe that name does ring a bell.
Jeremy Heston was a self-employed accountant
from Milton Keynes.
He arrived in Honore on July 24, 1993.
The day after his picture was taken here at Gatwick Airport?
Sir, you still remember the exact date after all this time?
No, no,
I remember the next day, July 25th.
We all remember the day.
Saint Marie was hit by a surprise storm.
Jeremy Heston died at sea.
He'd been here less than 24 hours
when he fell off a tour boat in heavy seas.
His body was never found,
but it turned out there was no next of kin to bury him anyway.
Heston wasn't the only casualty.
There was a passing fisherman, a brave man.
His name was Clement Brown.
He saw him fall and tried to save him.
He also drowned.
His body, at least, was recovered.
The storm cost two lives and untold damage.
It took years to recover.
So why did Nancy Martin have a CCTV still
of a random accountant at Gatwick Airport
48 hours before he died at sea?
Well, we can't force him to step back.
He's the commissioner.
He's stubborn and reckless.
He cannot cope on his own.
He knows where we are.
If he needs our help, he'll ask for it.
Postmortem's in.
Confirms death from a single puncture wound
consistent with the metal knitting needle
found at the scene.
Angle of the injury wound rules out the possibility
it was self-inflicted. Forensics?
The needle was wiped but the lab found a partial print.
They're cross-checking it with exclusion prints
taking from the victim.
Nancy Martin.
What do we know about her?
So, emigrated from the UK in 1994,
set up a charity for under-privileged children.
The charity has distributed millions of dollars,
most of which came from her own pocket.
Wow. Where did the money come from? Hard to say.
There's very little information about her life
before she came to Saint Marie.
No digital footprint, no social media.
So, what, just an eccentric philanthropist
doing good deeds?
One interesting thing...
The care home manager, Phillipe Varane -
he was Nancy's personal assistant for 25 years.
Took the job at the Paradise Bay when she retired there last year.
From being a PA at a charity to running bingo games
in a care home.
That's some dedication.
Oh. Thank you.
We're still waiting for access to her emails.
What about phone records?
A mobile phone account is registered to Nancy Martin,
but we are yet to find the phone itself.
It wasn't on her person or at the crime scene.
No phone?
Darlene, what about the belongings we took from her room?
No phone there, sir. Maybe the killer took it?
Why take the phone and leave all the cash and jewellery?
We've requested the records from the mobile company.
Any links to Jeremy Heston?
Nothing to suggest they ever met,
let alone were connected.
So why did she have a photo of him in her pocket when she died?
We'll need to check her bank for any recent activity.
Anyone handling that much money is bound to make some enemies along the way.
Sir, you'd better take a look at this.
Someone has been writing Nancy Martin poison pen letters.
So I wrote some letters.
I was upset.
The language that you used in those letters
sounded a bit more than upset.
"You cheating scum.
"You'll get what's coming to you, I swear."
What was Nancy cheating at?
Does it matter? She's gone.
Bingo. My nan used to play bingo.
After my grandad passed away, it was a lifeline to her.
Community.
Must have meant a lot to you, too.
Because it's more than just a game here, it's...
..identity.
Do you know what it's like to grow old in a care home?
No family, surrounded by strangers.
You take comfort in little things.
Bingo was my thing.
And then Nancy came along, kept on winning,
took all that away from you.
Must have made you angry.
Angry enough to send poison pen letters.
Perhaps angry enough to kill?
I never liked Nancy.
There was always something false about her.
But I didn't kill her. I couldn't.
She was already dead when we found her.
I've just been taking statements, and it turns out that Miss Mitchell
is not the only person that had issues with Nancy Martin.
Three separate people confirm that
she had a row with her daughter yesterday.
And Phyllis here...
...saw something that might be of interest.
Oona Martin was searching her mother's room.
What for?
So, what do we know about Oona Martin?
Again, surprisingly little.
This is interesting.
Oona applied for and received a passport only two weeks ago.
Where was she planning to go?
Inspector?
Um, I'm here for my mum's personal effects.
Er, yeah. Come inside and we'll talk.
That's me on the right.
My dad died suddenly, and my birth mother, she, erm,
she couldn't cope, so, erm,
I ended up at the orphanage, and Nancy took me in.
That was her thing.
Redemption!
Oh, um, I know a good watch repair place.
Couldn't help but notice it's stopped.
Oh, no, it doesn't work. It never has.
Family heirloom.
It's the one thing my mum said she couldn't leave behind
when she left the UK.
Er, where's her phone?
Er, Nancy's phone wasn't on her person
or at the crime scene.
It's possible the killer took it.
Or it was stolen from her room.
We know that someone broke in while she was playing bingo.
Is that an accusation?
A resident saw you in there.
And we know you had a fight with Nancy yesterday.
So what?
Kids fight with their parents all the time.
Oona, we know you've suffered a great loss,
but the sooner you start telling us the truth,
the better.
OK. Um...
I was in her room,
but I didn't break in and I certainly didn't steal anything.
I was looking for something that belonged to me...
My passport.
Nancy took your passport? Why?
Have you ever seen the northern lights?
I always wanted to. It was my dream.
I've never even set foot off of Saint Marie
and I'm 35 years old.
Your mother wouldn't let you?
Oh, she was loving, but, erm...
..but secretive.
I was home-schooled.
I wasn't allowed a mobile phone until 18, no social media.
She was overprotective.
She was smothering.
But I loved her.
And I thought she loved me.
Until...?
I was supposed to be leaving today...
..on an adventure, a new life, you know?
I'd planned it for months.
You know, Mum tried to talk me out of it, as usual,
but I stood up to her, and I thought she'd finally accepted it,
but when I went to pack, my passport was gone.
She'd taken it.
How do you know it was her?
She admitted it.
That's why I was at the care home yesterday.
I went to find my passport.
But it wasn't there so I joined her at bingo, like she told me to.
Oona, here!
I don't mean to be insensitive,
but Nancy ruining your chance of a new life...
..that does give you a motive.
The last time I spoke to my mum...
..I was so...
...I was so angry, hurtful,
and I'll never forgive myself for that.
But I did not murder my mother
over a confiscated passport, Inspector.
So, you were playing bingo.
I was with Nancy, and then her daughter pitched up.
She looked like she'd been crying.
And then that Babs woman won, and it all kicked off,
cos they're very, very serious about their bingo.
And Nancy Martin?
Yeah. She wasn't happy.
She stormed out and...
..it was all a bit awkward.
We were just sat there like lemons.
And no-one else left that room?
Well, I didn't like to say this earlier,
but that Mr Varane, he did pop out for a bit.
Do you think that's important?
So, according to Eloise Mirie,
Phillipe Varane left the bingo for five minutes.
That's just enough time to get to the garden,
stab Nancy and return.
What do we know about him?
Born in Jamaica, in and out of juvenile institutions,
petty theft, assault.
Then, next we know of him, he's here in Saint Marie,
working with Nancy Martin as her assistant.
And 25 years later, he manages the care home she lives in.
Does that not seem weird to you?
Er, sir, we've heard back from Nancy's bank.
Just two hours before she was murdered
$100,000 was transferred from her personal account
into an account in the Cayman Islands.
The transfer was authorised by Phillipe Varane.
I think we need to dig into Phillipe's finances, don't you?
Yes, I authorised that transfer.
Who did the money go to?
I'm afraid I can't divulge that.
Because it's incriminating?
Because it's private.
Since when is theft private?
The money was transferred from Nancy Martin's personal account.
I transferred the money at Nancy's request.
I have financial power of attorney.
It's all above board.
Mr Varane, this is a murder investigation.
Who was she sending money to?
I'm afraid I can't divulge that.
You can't think that I had anything to do with Nancy's murder?
Well, we know that she trusted you.
We know that you had opportunity.
You were the only person to leave the activities room
for five minutes, enough time to follow Nancy to her bench,
stab her and return.
I stepped out to take a call.
From whom? Nobody, just...
..a nuisance caller. Why didn't you mention this earlier?
I didn't think it was relevant.
What possible motive could I have for wanting to murder Nancy?
You've worked for her for 25 years.
I'm a suspect because I'm loyal?
You're a suspect because you're over $10,000 in debt.
How did you know that?
We've discovered emails from you to Nancy
asking for a loan to cover the interest repayments on that debt.
And when she asked what the debt was for,
you wouldn't say. Why not?
I was embarrassed.
I had made some...
..poor financial choices.
She refused to give you a loan, didn't she?
So you just took it, to pay the debt.
But then she found out.
You know how I met Nancy?
I tried to rob her.
She was just another rich tourist, and all I had was an empty belly...
..and a knife.
But she was as tough as nails.
Took that knife from me like I was a baby.
All she had to do was call the police and my life was done.
You know what she did?
She bought me lunch,
gave me a job,
a purpose.
Nancy Martin gave me my life.
The idea that I would murder her for money...
..is contemptuous.
Let's check his phone records.
He said he took a call.
Let's confirm that part of his story before we believe the rest.
So, we have 18 people who were all in the care home
at the bingo when the murder was committed.
Interviews and background checks indicate
only four have any close connection to Nancy Martin.
Barbara Mitchell, her daughter Oona,
Phillipe Varane and Eloise Mirie,
a distant relative who only met Nancy two days ago.
And of those, only Phillipe Varane does not have a cast-iron alibi.
He's the only person to have left the activities room after Nancy did.
Yeah, but his motive is weak,
and his devotion to Nancy seems genuine.
A 75-year-old recluse who spent her last years giving money
to disadvantaged children
doesn't make for an obvious murder target.
No.
We must be missing something, some connection.
Er, sir?
Interpol has been trying to contact you.
Check your email.
Apparently, when Nancy Martin's exclusion prints
were entered into the system,
it triggered a 30-year-old Red Notice.
Interpol have a warrant out for Nancy Martin? Why?
Because Nancy Martin...
..isn't really Nancy Martin.
Then, who is she?
Gwen Jackson was the wife of Frankie Jackson,
whose gang stole £5 million
in one of the largest heists in UK history.
A year later, Frankie was killed in a shoot-out with the police.
The very same day, Gwen disappeared.
Neither her nor the money has ever been heard of since.
Until now.
Guys, the list of possible motives
and suspects for this case just widened considerably.
So Nancy Martin isn't real?
No, Marlon, it's a fake identity,
one that's lasted 30 years.
Yeah, but my point is,
if Nancy Martin from Buckinghamshire doesn't exist,
how could she have a second cousin?
Eloise Mirie!
Not so fast, Miss Mirie.
If that is your real name.
Going somewhere in a hurry?
Well?
You're not allowed to smoke in here.
Yeah, and you have no legal right to come in here
without a warrant.
Learn that from TV, did you?
Section 17 of the Police and Criminal Evidence Act,
1984, actually.
You're a police officer?
Mm-hm. Detective Sergeant, Flying Squad.
Although something tells me
I'm going to be taking early retirement.
I was 25 when I made detective.
Frankie Jackson was my first case.
Five mil cash. Big deal.
My partner, DI Max Jennings, he got an anonymous tip.
There was a shoot-out.
Frankie died. Max died.
Gwen Jackson and the money disappeared.
- Can I smoke? - No.
I swore that I would catch her, which was easier said than done.
30 years, not a sniff.
Six months ago, an old snout of Max's says
he knows who smuggled the cash out of the country.
This bloke went into a bank with the code
for Frankie's safety deposit box and walked out again.
An accountant. Him.
Jeremy Heston? Mm-hm.
So, I tracked Heston's final days
from a flat in Milton Keynes to the bank in Mile End,
to CCTV at Gatwick and then finally to here.
He smuggled the cash out of the UK in a suitcase?
Yeah, for Gwen to collect when she was ready
to assume her new identity.
Why did she get this guy to move the money?
Why couldn't she just do it herself?
Well, cos Gwen was wanted by the police
and Frankie's gang by then.
No-one knows how Gwen got out the UK,
but we now know how the money got out.
Her partner in crime.
Obviously, Jeremy reached a sticky end,
but I figured Gwen probably stayed in the Caribbean.
She kept a bloody low profile,
but finally I found her here, at Saint Marie.
I confronted her.
Wanted to see the truth in her eyes.
And I did.
When I showed her that photo of Heston
she nearly dropped dead with shock right there on the spot.
She offered me money, 100 grand.
All she wanted was the photo.
So we came up with this long-lost relative cover story
while the deal went through.
And, er, it all seemed to be going smoothly until...
Until Nancy Martin was killed.
And I just wanted to get off this island
as quick as possible.
So you could get away with it.
We know that money was transferred.
What's to stop you from taking revenge as well?
I was in a room with a bunch of old biddies
when Gwen was whacked.
Do you lot not see what's going on?
This was a professional hit.
Gwen stole £5 million of gangsters' money.
They don't forget, not ever.
And if I can find her after all this time,
so can they.
What are you thinking, sir?
I'm wondering why Nancy Martin was so desperate
to get her hands on this photo,
and why she left the bingo
without noticing she'd made a full house?
I'm confused.
Does he think Frankie's gang did it or not?
Gangsters execute people, Marlon.
Nancy was stabbed with her own knitting needle.
That feels...
Personal. Exactly.
And Nancy must have known her murderer, trusted them.
Let's pick this up in the morning.
Maybe fresh minds bring fresh ideas.
Come on, Naomi. We've got a big night tonight.
Darlene, I'm not really in the mood.
You will be fine. Trust me.
Are you sure there's nothing more we can do, sir?
No.
It's just I'm supposed to be going to Catherine's Bar, but...
Oh, no, you go ahead.
We could all use a little R&R.
This is no time for rest and relaxation, Inspector.
Sir, what are you doing here?
My job, Inspector.
I've been receiving calls about this business at the care home.
A murder like this striking
at the most vulnerable in our society -
people need reassurance.
They've arranged a town hall.
I need a full briefing.
You're going to a town hall, sir?
Why wouldn't I? I am the Police Commissioner.
Sir, I think what Marlon is trying to say is,
surely this is a duty that can be delegated.
Delegated to whom, Inspector? You?
Not somebody that almost recently died
from a gunshot wound, sir.
I will not be treated like an invalid.
Do I make myself clear?
Sir, no-one's saying you're an invalid.
We're just worried you might be pushing yourself a little hard.
If you'd just let us help...
I do not require any help. I am perfectly fine!
Sorry.
Sir? Sir? Sir?
Oh! Sir!
Sir. Sir, come over.
OK, er, Naomi, call an ambulance.
No, no, no. No, no, no.
I'm...I'm OK.
I...I...I was just... I was just startled.
Sir, you are not OK.
At least let us call your doctor.
OK. OK.
Say it.
I told you so!
I have nothing to say.
Except this.
How do you expect people to care for you
if you will not care for yourself?
You are right.
And I'm sorry.
Hmm. Oh, it's not me you have to apologise to.
Er, sir, there's no need to apologise.
Um, I just came to...
Well, I'm just glad you're OK.
Wait, Inspector.
The town hall.
I will need to delegate after all.
You want me to do it, sir?
I hate to ask, Inspector.
No.
No, not at all. Don't be silly. I'd be happy to.
I hate to ask because it will require tact,
skill and diplomacy.
Qualities you are...
..sadly lacking.
Well, I'll do my best not to let you down, sir.
I'd appreciate that, Inspector.
Oh, hey!
It's the old gang.
Do you miss them, sir?
They are like family, Inspector.
Perhaps it's time you spoke to your daughter.
Oh, don't be ridiculous.
Why would I bother Andrina over nothing?
Sir?
Do you ever hear from Florence? Is she OK?
Is she happy?
She's in witness protection.
That's all either of us need to know.
For her safety.
Witness protection.
Huh!
Inspector?
Well, that's what you do when you want to protect someone
who's wanted by dangerous people, isn't it?
You...you make them disappear, like Gwen Jackson disappeared,
assumed an identity, became Nancy Martin.
Except you're still not safe, are you?
Because they still want to kill you,
and they'll never stop searching for you unless...
They think you are already dead.
Of course!
That's brilliant, sir!
Of course that's what you do!
Naomi? Yeah, if you're at Catherine's Bar, wait there.
I'll meet you there.
Glad I could help.
There is one other person that Nancy Martin,
or rather Gwen Jackson, knew and trusted on Saint Marie -
Jeremy Heston.
Um, er, Jeremy Heston is dead.
But what if he's not?
What if it was just made to look like he was dead
so no-one would come looking for him?
He drowned, sir. There were witnesses.
A man died trying to save him.
Clement Brown's body was discovered but Heston's never was.
Coincidence?
You think he staged his own drowning?
Isn't...isn't that risky?
Well, if I'd stolen £5 million from a crime syndicate,
I'd do whatever it took to stop them looking for me. Wouldn't you?
Wait, is that a new dress?
Er, maybe.
Are you wearing perfume?
Am I interrupting something?
Well, Darlene and I were...
Never mind. It's not important.
Let's say Jeremy Heston faked his death.
Why come out of hiding all these years later?
Because Eloise Mirie tracked down Gwen Jackson,
the one other person who knew
about Jeremy Heston faking his own death.
Once Eloise turned up, Nancy became a liability.
As long as she was alive, his secret was no longer safe.
So you think he killed her to avoid being exposed?
I think he's tying up loose ends,
and Nancy Martin might not be the only one.
I'm sorry, Inspector,
but this all sounds rather fantastical.
Gangsters, fake identities, missing millions?
Did you never wonder where Nancy's money came from?
Nancy was independently wealthy.
Nancy Martin does not exist.
She never did.
It was an elaborate fictional identity
created by Gwen Jackson.
Fingerprints do not lie.
So you think this Jeremy Heston killed her?
If we're right and he is still alive,
he would have motive.
Why are you telling us all this, Inspector?
Jeremy Heston has killed once before to protect his secret.
It's very possible he might kill again.
You think we're targets? Why?
Neither of us had heard of this man until you told us just now.
Mr Heston might not know that.
He might think Nancy shared her secrets
and his with you.
We'd like you to consider police protection.
She'll take it. What?
This is crazy. Nobody is trying to kill me.
If there's the slightest chance you're at risk...
Nancy would have wanted this.
Darlene is with Oona now.
Was Phillipe a bit...overprotective of Oona back there?
Oh, he's in love with her.
It's pretty obvious.
Is it?
Hey, er...
I'm sorry I ruined your date night.
It's OK. He wasn't my type.
Not sure why I let Darlene talk me into it, to be honest.
Don't use work as an excuse to avoid living your life.
I learnt that the hard way.
You deserve a little fun too.
Just a few concerned citizens. How hard can it be?
Please, please, everybody... Please, guys, please.
I assure you there is no random killer
going round care homes murdering people, OK?
However, it is possible that there is a single, focused,
extremely capable murderer at large.
So about the town hall...
Can we please just never mention it again, OK?
Er, you mentioned some news?
Yeah. Phillipe Varane, he said he took a nuisance call.
His phone records show he didn't make or receive
any phone calls during that time.
So if he wasn't making or receiving a phone call,
what was he doing?
It's Darlene.
Sir, Jeremy Heston has made contact.
I've been monitoring Oona's email and phone.
This came in at 5.35am from an anonymous sender.
I didn't recognise it at first because it went straight to junk.
"I'm sorry about Gwen.
"The past catches up with us all.
"I hope you can forgive me. JH."
This doesn't make any sense.
Why is he asking for my forgiveness?
What do we do?
Reply.
Sir, I...? What?
Type, "So what happens now?" OK.
This is too dangerous.
Don't worry, I'm sure he's not going to re...
"It's over.
"You'll never hear from me again."
Huh.
What are you thinking, sir?
I'm thinking we should go and tell Mr Varane the good news.
Gone?
You mean left the island?
It appears so.
Appears? You're not sure?
Well, we only have his word for it, of course, via email.
And you're going to accept that?
Oh, I'm confident you won't be receiving any more messages
from Jeremy Heston. How can you be sure?
Oh, I'm asking him not to, via email.
Very clever, Inspector.
Wait.
You sent those emails?
Why? Why would you do that?
Oh, I think Mr Varane has done more than send a few emails.
Phillipe?
I'll make a full confession.
Confession? For what?
I did it, Oona.
I murdered Nancy.
That...that's not possible.
I did.
And I don't have to explain myself...
..to you...
..or anyone.
Start taking this all down, sir?
No. No, um...
Let's wait till we get a signed confession first, Marlon.
Good to have a confession.
Wraps everything up in a nice neat bow.
Yeah, maybe.
All right, here we go.
What is it, Inspector?
Our suspect has motive, means
and is the only person with opportunity.
The only person to leave that room.
That's not strictly true, though, is it?
Nancy Martin left the room,
when she had every reason to stay.
Listen, Nancy was a bingo fanatic.
When the number 88 came out, she made a full house.
That's like the Holy Grail of bingo,
yet she didn't say anything.
Does that not seem weird to you?
Of all the strange things in this case,
it's the bingo you find weird?
Not the nice old woman that turned out to be a gangster's wife?
Or the long-lost cousin who turned out to be
a police officer with a grudge?
Don't forget Jeremy Heston, who was dead then alive,
then impersonated, then dead all along.
You're right, Marlon.
This bloke went into a bank with the code
for Frankie's safety deposit box and walked out again.
I never liked Nancy.
There was always something false about her.
It is all about Jeremy Heston.
When I showed her that photo of Heston,
she nearly dropped dead with shock.
Because if he was impersonated, then that would mean...
Neither her nor the money has ever been heard of since.
That's the secret.
That's what Nancy was so desperate to hide.
But why? What did he do?
There was a passing fisherman.
All she wanted was the photo.
Have we got a magnifying glass?
Ha-ha! There it is!
In plain sight, if you know what you're looking for.
What are you looking for?
Motive.
I know why Nancy was so desperate to get her hands on this photo.
I stepped out to take a call.
I murdered Nancy.
I have house!
And why she didn't say anything when she made a full house.
Marlon, er, Phillipe Varane's phone.
I know we said he didn't make or receive
any phone calls that day,
but check specifically if he received any video calls
around the time of Nancy's death.
And, Darlene, I need you to get a death certificate
for this person ASAP.
Shall I gather the suspects?
Marlon, let me guess.
All video call data has been deleted.
Yes. How did you know?
Because I am absolutely certain
that Phillipe Varane did receive a video call that day,
a message from almost beyond the grave.
We just need to make a stop at the care home pond first.
The pond? Why?
Just got to do a spot of fishing.
Aha!
Nancy's phone.
Why'd the killer throw it in the pond?
The killer didn't. Nancy did.
Shall we talk to the suspects?
Nancy Martin believed in second chances,
in the power of redemption.
In fact, she didn't just believe it, she lived it.
The last 30 years of her life
were her great second chance.
Because Nancy Martin was, in a previous life,
Gwen Jackson, gangster's wife.
Who knows how long she was planning her escape?
But when her moment came, she took it,
along with £5 million.
Nancy then dedicated her life to giving others
the second chance that she'd taken for herself.
A teenage street thug who tried to steal her purse.
A young orphan girl plucked from obscurity.
Her charity helped change lives for the better.
Does it matter how it was funded?
I mean, no-one got hurt, right?
Except that's not quite true.
Jeremy Heston died,
the man Frankie's gang thought was responsible
for stealing their money,
drowned tragically in an accident at sea.
And that, as far as the gang was concerned, was that.
Someone else paid a high price
for Jeremy's life and death.
There was a passing fisherman, a brave man.
His name was Clement Brown.
Clement Brown died trying to save the life of a stranger.
A man that would do any daughter proud.
Isn't that right, Oona?
Clement Brown had one child, a daughter,
whose life was defined by Jeremy Heston,
the man her father died trying to save.
My dad died suddenly.
Nancy adopted you, and for 30 years you and Nancy were happy.
She was overprotective, secretive,
but she loved you,
and that was enough.
Until Eloise Mirie showed up
with a CCTV still of Jeremy Heston at Gatwick Airport.
And in that moment, a fuse was lit
that led directly to Nancy Martin's murder.
I was just doing my job.
You were blackmailing Nancy, and it worked.
She was so desperate for that photo,
desperate enough to pay $100,000 for it.
And it went quite smoothly at first.
You got your money, Nancy got her photo.
She planned, we assume, to destroy it immediately,
but she was interrupted.
So she stuffed it away,
planning to get back to it the moment she could.
But that moment never came,
because someone else saw the photo first,
the one person Nancy was trying to hide it from -
her daughter Oona.
Nancy knew you were planning to travel,
but when Eloise made contact, she got spooked.
Nancy took your passport, not realising it would lead
to catastrophe,
because while looking for your passport...
..you found the one thing
Nancy was so desperate to keep from you.
The instant you saw this photo, you knew the truth.
The secret that neither the police nor Frankie's gang ever realised.
Jeremy Heston never existed.
It was an elaborate fake identity.
No-one knew how Gwen got out of the UK undetected.
The answer - she did it in plain sight.
This is Gwen Jackson.
But in order for Nancy Martin to exist,
Jeremy Heston had to die.
So Gwen faked his death at sea.
But what she didn't plan on was Clement Brown diving in after her
to try and save her and drowning in the attempt,
leaving behind an orphaned daughter...
..for which Nancy spent 30 years trying to atone.
Wait.
So, Jeremy Heston is Gwen in disguise?
How could she tell from that photo?
I mean, I couldn't and I've been chasing Gwen for nearly all my life.
You didn't know what you were looking for,
but Oona spotted it straight away.
A family heirloom.
A broken watch.
It's the one thing my mum said
she couldn't leave behind when she left the UK.
One of the hardest parts of this case has been the lack of motive,
but it's right here in this photo.
Nancy was responsible for your father's death,
and that, Oona, is why you murdered her.
Oona was in the room with me the whole time.
She was literally two feet away.
She died on the bench where I found her.
Nancy did die on the bench,
but she was stabbed right here in this room,
in front of all of you.
You were in shock, couldn't think straight.
You came to confront Nancy with the photo...
Oona, here.
..with the truth. We've saved you a place.
All of her worst nightmares coming true,
all thoughts of bingo driven from her mind.
Maybe she tried to explain, to apologise, but it was too late.
You saw the truth in her eyes and you murdered her.
Impossible.
We would have noticed.
Maybe you would have noticed,
if you hadn't finally beaten Nancy at bingo.
Ha-ha! House!
No, this makes no sense.
Nancy walked out of here perfectly fine.
Oona never meant to get away with it. Did you?
But the murder was covered up
by the victim herself.
Mum?
Don't. I need to be alone.
Nancy knew she would die the moment the needle was removed,
so she only had a few minutes to act
to protect the daughter she so cherished.
So she stood up, she walked out of here,
seemingly OK,
as far from the scene of the real crime as possible.
She was trying to save you from your actions.
But she knew she was about to die,
so she took out her phone...
..and she made a video call
to someone she trusted would do whatever it took
to protect you.
Oona. I need you to protect Oona.
She explained what had happened...
..and she gave certain instructions.
And when she'd finished, she took the phone
and she threw it into the pond,
to destroy any evidence that the call had happened,
evidence that she'd sent a message from almost beyond the grave,
asking for help in covering up her own murder.
She removed the knitting needle.
And with the last of her strength,
she wiped it to remove your fingerprints.
In her last living act...
..she organised a guardian angel to watch over you.
She even brought Jeremy Heston back to life
so that Nancy's murder could be pinned on a man
who never even existed.
And when that failed, you simply took the blame yourself.
Why would you do that?
Nancy asked me to protect you...
..and to let you know...
..she's sorry...
..and that she loved you...
..always.
You did it...for her?
Not just for her.
Congratulations, Inspector.
Oh, thank you, sir.
Although this case has been a little bittersweet, if I'm honest.
I was talking about your performance at the town hall.
I've been deluged with complaints, Inspector.
Deluged.
Yeah, sorry, sir.
Public speaking isn't really my strong suit.
No?
Sir?
There's somebody here to see you.
Andrina!
What are you doing here?
Oh, I don't know.
What do you think I'm doing here, Commissioner?
You were shot!
Catherine called her.
You came to look after me?
Let's not get ahead of ourselves.
First, I just want to reassure myself
that you're not about to drop dead.
After that, we'll see.
Let me take it. I've got it.
Come on. OK.
All these chefs are ready to cook up a storm.
So he was holding a competition to find his next head chef.
How did someone manage to poison him without poisoning themselves?
Again? Another girls' night out? You aren't invited.
One of the chefs, we were best friends.
You're never going to forgive me, are you?
Some things are better left in the past.
Retract your statement to the police about my wife.