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Peace.
Blessed peace.
Well, almost.
Richard Poole sat at his desk in the Honoré police station feeling rather smug although he tried to keep his face in its usual impassive mask. They had finished the paperwork for the murder of Roger Seymour, team appraisals were not for another two months, and Camille was, once again, recounting the tale of her disastrous Erzulie date for the amusement of Dwayne and Fidel.
He had a few minutes before he allowed himself his next cup of tea, so he decided to tackle the morning’s post. There was the usual crop of items; letters of complaint about the noise from the Erzulie festival, the usual circulars from other islands, Mme Lefebvre’s weekly account of activity in the alien base located in the volcano, a reminder about an overdue payment of the previous quarter’s electricity bill (Why they kept sending these to the station he didn’t know. They had been told on many occasions to send the bills to Government House if they wanted prompt payment) and finally a padded envelope addressed to him personally. It appeared to contain a small cuboid object and had a British stamp on it.
Frowning he ripped open the envelope and tipped the contents onto his desk. It was a small case typically used for items of jewellery. He felt his insides clenching and sweat unconnected to the heat started prickling his forehead. Looking into the envelope he spotted a letter which, with some trepidation, he pulled out and started to read.
Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey was in her element, holding court to her suitably amused colleagues. With one notable exception of course. The bane of her existence and occupant of her dreams; Detective Inspector Richard Poole. She had just reached the part in her story where her date, whose name she could no longer recall, Jean? Jacques? Henry? Whatever... well, the bit where he fell off his chair whilst trying to save the bottle of wine he had just put down on top of a rogue bread knife, when she heard a grunt and the sound of paper being crumpled. Looking over at her superior’s desk she was in time to see him march across the office, face a blank mask. He left with a brief “I’m going out.” leaving his three colleagues stunned. They were used to his mercurial moods, but this one seemed to come out of the blue.
Motioning to the other two to stay put in case Richard came back, she walked over to his desk to see if she could spot what had triggered his current mood.
Looking over his desk, everything appeared to be in its correct place including, she was amused to see, the latest Alien Activity Report. The only items out of place were in the centre of his desk. A padded envelope, a crumpled piece of paper and the thing that drew her eyes, a jeweller’s box of the type used for rings. Unable to stop herself she picked up the box and opened it. It contained a simple gold ring with a single baguette diamond. To her eyes it looked expensive and not the sort of thing she would trust to the vagaries of the postal service.
But the presence of the ring only brought up more questions and answered none. Who would send Richard a ring? And why? Perhaps the letter held the clue. She picked it up and smoothed it out. She read first line and stopped.
My dearest Richard,
Camille was insatiably curious. It was what made her a good detective but had also led her into several embarrassing situations in the past which she would rather forget about. And this was a step too far. Richard might be her annoying superior officer, but she also considered him a friend and you did not read your friend’s private letters.
“What you got there then Camille?”
Dwayne’s voice cut through the silence.
Camille shook herself out of her spiralling thoughts.
“Oh, um, it looks like someone sent Richard a ring.” she said automatically, closing the box and starting to replace it and the letter back into the envelope.
“A ring? Let’s have s look then.”
“I don’t think we should mess with the Inspector’s personal items.” Fidel admonished Dwayne.
“Now where’s the fun in that?” Dwayne countered flashing his cheeky grin at the other two.
“Fidel’s right.” Camille put in. “It’s personal, but the ring looks too expensive to leave lying around so I’ll hold on to it and get it back to Richard.”
The other two didn’t argue, aware of the complicated relationship between the two detectives. Getting back to her desk she placed the envelope into her handbag.
“So who would be sending the Chief a ring?” Dwayne mused. “Do you think he bought it for someone?”
“Who?” Fidel asked.
Dwayne’s eyes flicked over to Camille so quickly she almost missed it. “Yeah, you’re right.” Dwayne acknowledged “No likely candidates.”
“A girlfriend?” Fidel suggested. Camille’s insides clenched at the thought.
Dwayne snorted and raised an eyebrow “Really?”
“No, no, you’re right.” Fidel sighed.
“Could be a dead person.” was Dwayne’s next suggestion which earned him quizzical looks from the other two.
Dwayne sighed. “Obviously the dead person wouldn’t send it themselves. It would be, like, in a will.”
Fidel hummed acceptance of the possibility.
Camille, who had remained silent up to this point decided to take control.
“I’m sure if Inspector Poole wants us to know where it came from, he will let us know. Until then we all have work to do. Dwayne, you were going to check that report of the attempted break in...”
And so the Honoré Police department eased into its well-trained routine.
That evening, Richard not having returned to the station all day, Camille decided she should check to see if he was alright. After eating, she drove out to the shack where there were no signs of anyone around. Getting out of the Defender she wandered over to the veranda and verified that both doors were closed and locked.
She decided to wait a while to see if Richard turned up. It was no hardship, in fact it was one of her favourite places despite its curmudgeonly occupant. Or perhaps because of...? Either way, being able to sit looking out over the sea listening to the sound of the waves was extremely therapeutic.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there lost in her thoughts, until a familiar figure trudged out of the darkness. He had just reached the veranda when he became aware of somebody sitting there.
“Hello? Who’s there?” he said and advanced more cautiously.
“Oh. It’s you.” he said when he got close enough to make her out. “What are you doing here Camille?”
As he moved to open the doors and turn the lights on, Camille stood up and moved to follow him.
“I came to find out how you are. We worried when you didn’t come back.”
He responded with a dismissive “Huh.” and headed for the kitchen. He took two beers out of the fridge and turned towards her.
Camille was startled into a sharp intake of breath. He looked a wreck. Hair mussed, tie askew, shirt wrinkled. She even spotted small patches of sand on his jacket and trousers. And his eyes... his eyes were bloodshot and rimmed in red. It looked as though he had been crying, preposterous as it may sound.
He held out a beer towards her saying “I don’t suppose I’m going to get rid of you in a hurry so you might as well have this.”
After she had taken it, he walked back out to the veranda with Camille following close behind.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked gently.
“About what?” She could tell his heart wasn’t in it. She reached into her handbag and pulled out the letter.
“About this.” she said holding it out to him.
He looked at it without moving.
“The ring looked valuable, so I thought it best not to leave it lying around.” she explained.
He took a drink from his beer.
“You know about the ring then?”
Camille nodded somewhat guiltily.
“I suppose you read the letter?” he asked after some more silence.
“No. Of course not. I’m not that bad.”
Richard looked up at her.
“No. No, you’re not. Sorry.”
He turned away to look at the sea. With a sigh he said “You might as well read it. It will save a lot of explanations that I’m not sure I’m up to at the moment.”
“Richard, this is a personal letter. I couldn’t read it. It would be... awkward “
Richard rubbed his face with his free hand.
“Please Camille.”
“Are you sure? I mean...”
“Just read the bloody letter Camille!” he snapped.
Raising her hands in a placating gesture she then reached into the envelope and withdrew the letter.
My dearest Richard,
I read with some amusement your latest stories of life in the Caribbean. It’s good to know that the people of Saint Marie have someone like you and your team watching over them and I can tell from what you say how fond you are of your team.
Life here in Croydon continues pretty much the same as ever. Mother is deteriorating slowly although the new nurse I was telling you about is looking after her far better than any of the others we have had. We hope mother will be able to remain in her home for the remainder of what little time she has left.
The next part is going to be difficult to write and I beg your forgiveness in advance for the pain I am about to inflict.
It has been over a year since we last saw each other. When you were sent to Saint Marie it was only supposed to be for the one case but somehow you ended up being trapped out there against your will. And I completely understand that the nature of your job means you must make sacrifices when called upon to do so.
One year was just about manageable but I now understand that your assignment has become open ended. I appreciate that your Commissioner has been playing games with you, arranging things behind your back, leaving it until the last moment to share vital information, but I am sure he would not have barred you from spending some time back home. From what I know of you it is more a case of you not asking for leave rather than it being denied. I’m sorry if that sounds spiteful.
However, it has made me wonder how committed to us you really are.
I know we have discussed this many times in the past, so you know I would love to join you out there in your island ‘paradise’ but I cannot leave mother. I am all she’s got and she would not cope with a move from her home and the oppressive heat you describe.
I have thought long and hard about our situation and have reached a decision. It pains me to say I can no longer put my life on hold until you manage to get free of your assignment. I will also admit that Alan, mother’s nurse, and I have been becoming closer over the past few weeks and I feel it only decent if I ended our engagement now before things go any further.
I still love you Richard, strange as it may sound, and I would have loved to become the next Mrs Poole. But I’m afraid I am no longer convinced of your commitment to us.
I enclose the ring you bought me on that wonderful day. I truly hope you find someone who deserves you.
Yours,
Cynthia
Camille sat looking at the paper without seeing it. Nothing was said for several minutes.
“Richard...” she started not knowing what she was going to say.
“We met at university.” he said, evidently not having heard her. She looked at him but he was lost in some internal vision.
“We weren’t really friends or anything then. We just had a few conversations at meetings of the Historical Society. She was seeing somebody at the time and I...” she saw him close his eyes and take a deep breath. “Well, anyway there was no reason we should keep in touch after we left university and, to be honest, I never really thought about her again.”
He glanced at Camille and she gave him an encouraging smile.
“We met again about five years ago when she reported possible fraudulent activity at the firm she worked for. It took great courage to do what she did and eventually five people were arrested. I was assigned as one of the lead detectives on the case but had to step back when I realised who she was. It was a tenuous connection but could have given rise to charges of conflict of interest. We sort of met up from time to time to talk about things. University mainly.”
He stopped, lost once more in memory.
“What happened then?” Camille asked sensing he needed to talk and she was happy to listen, to learn more about the Richard he never let people see.
“Hmmm? Oh, well, we started seeing each other more and more after the case came to trial. She had just had an acrimonious split with a long-term boyfriend and she had been virtually forced out of her job when details of the case became public. I, well, suffice it to say I was going through a bit of a rough patch at work at the time and having a sympathetic ear did both of us good.”
He shrugged.
“Things progressed, we became closer and eventually it seemed that getting married was the next logical step. So, I proposed and she accepted.”
He sighed again and rubbed his face.
“My situation at Croydon was not... ideal, so I kept our relationship secret in order to protect her from becoming caught up in the, err... situation. It was probably a mistake but I thought it best at the time.”
He sighed.
“We were discussing dates for the wedding when I got sent out here. I did ask her to move out here so we could be together, but her mother has Alzheimer’s and Cynthia does most of her care. Works from home most of the time. So I knew it was impossible. The rest you know. It’s the reason I was so grumpy when I first got out here, I suppose... being away from her.”
He gave a wry grin and stopped. It then appeared that he became aware of her presence again and turned to look at her.
“I’m sorry, Camille. I didn’t mean to dump all that on you. Don’t you just hate it when people get all mawkish?”
“I don’t mind.” she replied with a soft smile. “You must have loved her.”
“Yes. I... well, yes, I suppose so. But surely true love can survive being apart?” he frowned “God, I’m starting to sound like some trashy romance novel. I need another drink. How about you?”
At Camille’s nod he went back into the shack and emerged with two more beers. Handing one to her he asked, nonchalantly
“So, another blind date that’s going nowhere?”
The confession was over and she knew he did not want to talk about it anymore.
After talking for a while Richard’s mind drifted back a couple of days to the night of the Erzulie festival. Watching Camille walk over to her date had aroused feelings in him that, at the time, he refused to name or acknowledge. He was, after all, engaged to be married to a perfectly lovely woman. But those feelings had become stronger and more frequent over the previous weeks and it had been tearing him apart. Making him more grumpy than usual. Guilt gnawing at him to the point where he found it difficult to write to Cynthia. Her allegation that he wasn’t committed to their relationship had hurt, but he wondered if there was some truth in it. He had become used to prioritising work over personal life, the latter having been practically non-existent. Until Cynthia. But now there was Camille. Worming her way into his life. Seeping into his thoughts at inappropriate times. Confusing him. Bewitching him
But now he had been granted a reprieve of sorts, a chance to see if there was any possibility of something between Camille and himself. But the cost was crushing him. He still felt the same about Cynthia as he had and if the Commissioner hadn’t tricked him and he had returned home, he would have married her without a second thought. And Camille would have become a memory. Part of a fantasy of life in an island paradise that he would forever have held dear.
The idea of the bright, vivacious island girl harbouring any feelings for the grumpy English git was ludicrous. But stranger things had happened. Perhaps now he would find out.
Or perhaps he was deluding himself.
Time would tell.
They talked until late and Camille tried to convince herself she was not imagining a shift in the way Richard was behaving and the way she was responding. It made her pause to think. He might be a grumpy Englishman, but he could be her grumpy Englishman. Did she want it?
Perhaps she did.
Or perhaps she was deluding herself.
Time would tell.