Title: An Ocean Apart

Rating: T

Summary: When a popular Saint Marie Politician is murdered in London, the Royal Saint Marie police send Detective Sergeant Bordey to London to ensure the Met find who was responsible for his death. AU.

A/N: This is an Alternative Universe story I thought might be fun to write, where basically Camille finds herself in the those of you who read "pillow talk" it was the story I referred to in my final A/N. I've only kept the characters of Camille and Richard, as I couldn't find a way of transplanting the others really, so there are quite a lot of original characters. I am hoping to write a story for each episode of DiP but adapted for London! Now there are other changes, and things don't always happen in the same order, but hey that'll just keep you all on your toes! The entire story is written so it'll all be uploaded shortly.

Thanks to MaddieStJ who gave it a read through to ensure it wasn't an entirely insane idea!


He'd learnt to keep the reluctance off his face when offered a cigarette. The first real progress he'd made in establishing himself with these – for want of a better word – businessmen had come the day he accepted the high nicotine Chinese brand. He knew, of course, that nicotine was a stimulant – but now he found the bloody things soothing in these moments of high stress.

The garden of the property in Richmond was impressive in size given its city location, but then again this was an area he could only ever dream about living in. The garden went straight down to the river, and he hadn't failed to notice the boats moored there. The music from the house was unbearably loud, the alcohol was top quality and the women were…also something he wouldn't be able to afford if he was so inclined. Clearly their host was keen to make a good impression in the hopes it would start a fruitful business partnership with his current employers, but he had chosen the wrong route as these were serious men not interested in their own merchandise.

The conversation was in Mandarin, it always was, "Not all of these guests would want to be here if they knew of our hosts business interests." And clearly that was why they were here, the man was very good at covering up what he did.

"He claims to have a tame police officer," he tried not to shudder at the term. "Not like you, of course, Inspector. You are more of a business partner. We have been given the impression this officer is more like a goon for hire."

A camera flash made him jump, he prayed it was a party goer and not some paparazzi as he would rather not be in the background of an image on page 6 of The Sun. He was sure one of his colleagues would notice. At that moment, however, something altogether more distracting occurred.

A single gunshot was fired. There was the mandatory moment of shocked silence, before the screaming, shouting and general confused panic set in. There was no way he could remain here.

"I think you gentlemen will understand if I make a hasty exit," he said, but his so called business partners were already in the same frame of mind.

As he made towards the train station, he hit speed dial one and waited for the familiar voice to answer, "We've got a problem."


Scene of Crime Officers were everywhere, all wearing those silly suits. Eric Goodlife had gotten away with just popping on some of those blue overshoes – he didn't mind, he had absolutely no desire to get blood on his favourite pair of trainers. What he did mind was the fact he was stuck up here, when there were any number of (given the chill in the air) severely underdressed young women in the dining room downstairs awaiting interview. The reason he wasn't there was quite simple, he'd over heard the great Detective Superintendent Nightingale – rising star of the Metropolitan Police – was on her way. With the DCI on the team recently retired on Medical Grounds, DS Goodlife had expected responsibility for this investigation to be farmed out to one of the departments DI's, but clearly something about this case was important enough to warrant Nightingale's personal attention. He was up here because he was trying to figure out what.

He suspected that if he asked around he would find Idrissa Konare, owner of this property and host of the party that had been occurring at the time of the killing, might not be the clean cut businessman he pertained to be. Goodlife knew of no active investigations against the man, and suspected he probably just indulged in the ladies and maybe a little recreational drug use. A SOCO team member – in those suits he really couldn't tell if it was a girl or a bloke – handed him an evidence bag containing the victim's passport. The document had been issues by a British Overseas Territory – Saint Marie. Goodlife had never heard of it or the victim, Jean Toulouse. It looked like he would have to await his superior's arrival before this little mystery was solved.

He was soon lost in a daydream about Selena Nightingale – the woman's career was legendary and she probably was about the same age as him. He really should have been kicked back down to uniform and become a desk sergeant a long while back, but his CI network was currently securing his position in CID. That woman though, she was ambitious and a real hell cat. He couldn't help but wonder if she behaved the same way in the bedroom as she did in the office. He wouldn't mind letting her hair down from that bun she always wore it in.

It was this fantasy that allowed his superior to sneak up on him. She snapped her fingers in front of his face to get his attention and God help him he very nearly saluted, he was certainly standing straighter.

"It's nice to see that everything is so under control Sergeant Goodlife that you have time for daydreaming," she said sharply. "Where is DS Sy?"

"I'm here, Ma'am," the voice came from the stairs that led up to the properties third floor. Goodlife hadn't heard his fellow detective arrive, Leo must have gone past him when he was busy with his little fantasy. "I was just checking the upper floor, Ma'am."

Superintendent Nightingale raised both eyebrows and levelled the younger officer with a look, "Without shoe covers?"

Leo Sy visibly flushed, his dark colouring doing nothing to help hide it, and Goodlife actually felt sorry for him, "I'm sorry, Ma'am, I…"

He was cut off abruptly by his superior, "That is the sort of mistake that I expect from a probationary constable, Sy, not a Detective Sergeant. It is, quite frankly, unacceptable."

Leo clearly didn't have an excuse, and Nightingale probably wouldn't have accepted anything he came up with anyway, so he just looked at the floor and offered, "I guess I was distracted Ma'am and I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"You don't normally make mistakes, Sergeant, not like this," One of Nightingale's many talents was that she knew all of her officer's personnel files off by heart – their skills, their weaknesses and for all Goodlife knew their bloody shoe size as well. "Because of that, rather than sending you to write up traffic violations for the next fortnight I'll let it go this once. Make sure you submit your shoe prints to SOCO for elimination. I need you on this case anyway, the owner of the property is a Senegalese national and so are several of the witnesses. After I'm done here go see if your language skills are required downstairs. I'm taking an interest in this case because our victim failed the Google test."

The Google test was a crude method used by detectives to assess how much publicity any given murder might achieve – along with other obvious factors like level of gruesomeness. In general, if you googled your victim's name and the first few pages of results were not a reference to him or her then you were safe. Eric was about to find out why his superior was here in the early hours of the morning.

"Jean Toulouse is a politician on Saint Marie," Both detectives had blank looks on their faces. "It's an island in the Caribbean, a British Overseas Territory along the lines of the Falklands or Montserrat. Since it is not actually the middle of the night on Saint Marie I put in a call to the police there and was directed to the commissioner himself. Turns out Mr Toulouse was a very popular man amongst the island's inhabitants. The Commissioner was quite insistent that he sends one of his officers to assist with the investigation. I imagine he's concerned we might let it slip to the bottom of our priorities otherwise. I've agreed, and she will be interviewing the victim's family tomorrow and arriving Thursday."

"So you won't be needing a volunteer to go to the Caribbean then and help with those interviews, then?" Eric asked as he flashed a grin, even though he knew it was cheeky. The Super just rolled her eyes, and Eric reckoned she might not be immune to his killer smile.

Sy looked uncomfortable, Goodlife knew that look but before he could prevent his less experienced colleague from saying something stupid he'd already blurted it out, "Ma'am, with all due respect, should we really allow the Saint Marie police service to interfere in our investigation? I've never even heard of the place, I doubt even their best detective has any skills or access to resources we lack. We'll just end up babysitting them!"

Anybody who spared the Superintendent half a glace now would not need much in the way of intuition to tell she was not pleased with DS Sy's outburst.

"I have already made the decision that we will collaborate with the Royal Saint Marie Police Service and it is not your place, Sergeant, to question that decision. It is my intension that you work in partnership with Detective Sergeant Bordey, and I'll be checking in with her regularly to make sure she feels welcome. Do I make myself clear?"

Leo looked suitably ashamed by his second reprimand of the evening, "Yes, Ma'am, of course."

"Good, you can start that partnership by picking her up from the airport Thursday. I'll forward you the flight details."

Nightingale stalked off, collaring the head of the crime scene unit for a briefing. Eric tried to think of something comforting to say, but all he could come up with was, "Hey, you never know, this Bordey woman might be really hot!"


It hadn't taken long for Arthur to realise that generally Eric made phone calls for one of two reasons: to arrange a meeting with an informant, or to arrange a meeting with a lady. Judging by his body language at the moment, and the big grin plastered on his face, it looked like he was up to the latter. Arthur really didn't understand how Eric never got reprimanded for all the personal calls he made from his desk. On the way to the printer, he overheard him say, "But you must have some sort of idea what she's like, Susan?"

Ah, so perhaps Juliet had finally caved and set up the good detective sergeant on a blind date with of her friends. Eric was probably trying to get Susan in HR to send over the personnel file so he could check her out beforehand. He collected his papers, and then the printer whirred to life again and he turned around to find Eric hurrying over to retrieve it.

"Susan didn't actually give you access to a personnel file did she?" he asked, a little shocked.

"No, this is an abbreviated copy of her CV that was sent on ahead of her so the Super could get a peek at her skill set! Apparently I'd find it online, if I looked hard enough for it, which is why Susan released it." He grabbed the still warm paper from the tray, and Arthur realised he didn't know what was going on.

"I'm sorry whose CV?"

"Camille Bordey, you dope. The Detective they are sending from Saint Marie tomorrow. His eyes rapidly scanned the single A4 sheet, and he frowned. "She is hot, but she's also French."

Arthur grabbed the paper from him. The picture was probably quite an old one, considering she was in uniform, but she was pretty, "I though Saint Marie was a British Overseas Territory?"

The paper was taken from his hands by Detective Sergeant Sy. Unlike Eric, who was generally quite relaxed about the rank thing, Arthur wouldn't dare call Sy by his first name, "Saint Marie has been ruled by the French, British and Dutch. The French handed it back to the British in the Seventies for some reason. Detective Sergeant Bordey chose to train in France it would seem, but I imagine she is familiar with British law."

Arthur tried to keep reading the CV from a distance, and spotted something that made his mouth hang open for a second, "She had three commendations for bravery? I don't know anybody who has one, let alone three!"

"She'll certainly be interesting to work with," Sy said casually.


During one of the years she'd been in Paris, Camille had been introduced to the concept of an Indian summer. That September had been long and warm. Flowers continued to bloom, trees stayed green and the swallows didn't bother heading south just yet. In the thirty seconds it took to descend the steps from the plane and get onto the bus that would shuttle her to arrivals, Camille knew with 100% certainty that London was not experiencing an Indian summer. On the shuttle she overheard fellow travellers moaning about how the first few days of September had already broken records for low temperatures. Thank God she'd kept that winter coat from her student days. She was going to have to unpack her bag in the middle of baggage reclaim to retrieve it but it would be worth it.

However, after thirty minutes of patiently watching her fellow passengers collect their belongings, only two bags remained forlornly circling the carousel and neither were hers. She didn't need to be a detective to know her bag had gotten lost.

The young woman behind the lost luggage counter couldn't apologise enough, it was almost as if she personally felt responsible for Camille's missing case. Camille assured her that these things happened occasionally and that yes, she was an experienced traveller so had packed a change of clothes in her carry on and did have insurance. She filled out the relevant forms and Molly the lost luggage lady promised to call once she'd tracked the case down.

Once she'd actually made it out of baggage reclaim, she called the number she'd been given the previous day. She jumped a little when a phone rang right next to her at the same moment it did in her ear. When she turned around, an exceptionally tall, Afro-Caribbean man was smiling down at her expectantly.

"Detective Sergeant Bordey?" he asked, not bothering to answer his ringing phone. She hit the end call button on her own device and offered a hand.

"Yes, sorry, how did you know?"

He shook her hand with a firm grip, "You look like a police officer." She raised her eyebrows at that, she was pretty certain she actually looked nothing like a police officer and had been told so on many occasions. Perhaps he was trying to make a joke, and she was a little too jet lagged to find it amusing. "I've actually seen a picture of you, a succinct copy of your resume is floating around the office. I'm DS Leo Sy."

Camille couldn't help but wonder why people would want to see her resume, perhaps they had doubted her abilities. She'd been concerned such a thing might happen, they probably all thought she worked on some backwater little island where criminals were only caught by chance rather than good police work. Well, her resume would have proved she was certainly qualified.

"Where is your case?" he asked, breaking her contemplation.

"Oh, lost" she told him, shrugging.

"That's awful!"

"Well I'm an experience traveller, I have a change of clothes in my carryon and hopefully it'll turn up tomorrow. I imagine it got lost in Paris where I changed planes. I wish I hadn't have packed my winter coat in it, though."

The detective smiled kindly at her, and she couldn't help but notice what an attractive smile it was, "I'm sure we can sort something out at the station."

Camille had assured Leo that she was able to work, had gotten plenty of rest on the flight – though a coffee wouldn't go amiss. He led her out to his car, and she had nodded off during the drive. When it came to a stop, she jerked awake and realised that this was clearly not Richmond Police Station. Instead they were parked in front of a remarkably ugly pair of tower blocks, all exposed concrete and tiny windows. They didn't exactly scream "homely". The look on her face clearly indicated her confusion, and she didn't need to actively ask for Leo to answer what she was thinking.

"The Met own a flat here for visiting officers. It's actually a really nice area, the park is just behind here. I thought you might like an hour just to freshen up before I bring you to the station to meet the rest of the team. He dangled a set of keys between them. "It's 602. Shall I meet you here at 11?"

Camille agreed readily and took the keys. Inside the lobby, she discovered the lift was broken. She wasn't in the best mood by the time she reached the sixth floor but held out hope that there might be a nice view. Unfortunately, the flat she had been allocated did not look out onto the park Leo had mentioned, instead she had a delightful view of the car park and main road beyond – hardly inspirational. With no unpacking to do, she rummaged through the cupboards and found half a jar of cheap looking instant coffee, but it'd do for now. In the fridge there was a small plastic bottle of what used to be milk – probably left there by whatever officer had used the flat last. It went straight into the bin. Looking around the rest of the flat, she really hoped they solved the case quickly so she wouldn't have to stay here too long. The décor was so minimalist it was depressing, if she lived here she might be tempted to throw herself out the window. Perhaps that's why they were so small, to prevent such an event.

A faint scuttling sound caused her to whip around. There, sitting on the ugly brown rug really rather brazenly, was a mouse. Camille harboured no ill will towards mice in general, but she was aware they weren't exactly supposed to be living on flats on the sixth floor.

"Shoo!" she told it loudly, clapping her hands for emphasis. It turned tail and disappeared behind the TV unit, and she figured she'd let the next detective deal with it.

The coffee was truly awful, and after two mouthfuls she tipped it down the sink. She even went so far as to throw the rest of the jar away to save future officers the pain of having their hopes of a decent cup of coffee dashed so spectacularly. Perhaps there would be some kind of café at the station, it had looked pretty large when she'd snuck a look on Google Street View.

She changed, her blouse was wrinkled from being in her bag but she got the impression what she'd worn on the flight over wouldn't be suitable. Leo had turned up to pick her up in a suit. Well she could always just tell people she'd lost her case so they'd understand the creases. She wasn't sure when she last used an iron – at home she could just pop stuff on a hanger and the heat caused the wrinkles to fall out.

Leo actually arrived at 10:55, knocking on the door whilst she was still trying to reapply make up. Though she'd shouted she would be there in a minute, he clearly wasn't a patient man and began knocking again so she abandoned the eye-liner, grabbed her handbag and went to meet him.


At Richmond station she was issued a security pass to get her through various locked doors. She tried to pay attention, but the place was a labyrinth of corridors and stair wells and she knew she'd have to ask somebody to show her the way out. She was also a little surprised by the bustling open plan office she followed Leo into – there were at least 25 people all busy doing something. Well, London did have a higher crime rate than Saint Marie, there were probably lots of different cases being investigated.

"I'm afraid we are a bit full at the moment, Arthur here has shoved up to let you share his desk for now. DC Arthur Carter this is DS Camille Bordey, our colleague from the Royal Saint Marie Police Service. Arthur has only been in CID two weeks, this is his first murder case and he's very excited."

There wasn't any reason really to tell Camille Arthur was a recent promotion, a quick glance could tell you how green he was. He'd probably been forced to give up his desk space since he was newest to the team.

"Hi!" He said brightly, smiling broadly and shaking her hand enthusiastically. "It's really good of you to come all this way to help with the case. I'm looking forward to working with you."

"Arthur was very impressed by your resume," Leo explained, Camille felt bad for Arthur as he blushed. "He really wants to know how you got those three commendations for bravery."

"Well if I told you, you'd probably be less impressed," she smiled at the junior officer kindly, trying to put him at ease. Was she really so intimidating?

Somebody behind her gave a fake cough, clearly intending to get her attention. She turned around and an officer older than she stood and smiled at her warmly, "I'm Eric, Eric Goodlife. I'm the poor Detective Sergeant who has to train Arthur here, though perhaps Arthur is the one who should be pitied being stuck with me." Camille shook his hand, amused by the man's antics.

"OK the first thing we need to do is get you access to the system so you can look at what we have to date, and then we'll need to get your interviews with the victim's families uploaded," Leo said brusquely, clearly Arthur and Eric were the only introductions she was getting for now.

"You don't have a paper copy, do you? I haven't got a problem with computers I just process the information better on paper usually."

The three men seemed to exchange a look that Camille wasn't sure she liked, were they judging her?

"Who's on data entry?" Leo asked Arthur.

He smiled wistfully as he answered, "Juliet." Sy rolled his eyes and said in a firm tone, clearly intended for Arthur, "PC Poole should be able to provide you with hard copies, and help you enter your own data. This way please."

They wound their way through the people, Camille receiving several curious glances, until they reached a bank of computers where a few unformed officers were working.

"Constable Poole?" Leo said, and a pretty blonde girl stood up from her computer respectfully.

"Yes Sir?"

"This is Detective Sergeant Bordey from Saint Marie. She would like the hard copy of the operation to date, and then I'd appreciate it if you'd show her how she could enter her own data. I'll be at my desk if you need me," this last bit was addressed to Camille, and he disappeared without another word.

"Please Ma'am, call me Juliet," She fetched Camille a chair, which she accepted gratefully.

"Ok but you have to call me Camille, no need for 'Ma'am', it makes me feel old."

Juliet smiled and nodded, then reached under her desk to bring a massive file folder out. Camille was a bit shocked they had so much data already, and even more so when Juliet retrieved a second half full folder to go with the first.

"These are the hard copies, but I mean everything is in there. I can show you how to log in and search for just the reports you specifically want if you like?"

"Maybe that would be best," Camille said.

"Right so first thing is to open up HOLMES 2, you're only going to be able to do that from terminals in this office since you don't have an encrypted laptop. I'll get you some log on details shortly, I believe the Superintendent has already seen to it. To see the documents attached to a case, you can just type in the name of your operation, this investigation is Operation Graphite," Juliet spoke quickly, clearly this was not the first tour of the system she had given.

"All of your murder investigations get operation titles?" She asked disbelievingly – it seemed a little excessive to her.

"Yes, and some of them are really weird. We don't get to pick them ourselves you see," she said with a quick smile. "But I mean who approved the name 'Operation Canker' or 'Operation Aftershave', at least Operation Graphite sounds relatively professional," Juliet said conversationally, before launching back into her explanation of HOLMES 2.

In the middle of explaining the Disclosure Management system, Juliet must have caught the look of mild dismay on Camille's face. It wasn't that Camille wasn't good with computers, she was. She'd been involved in several cybercrime investigations, but she hadn't ever used a system like this before and it was a little overwhelming.

"Camille? Are you okay? Do you want me to cover something again, Ma'am?" Juliet asked her kindly.

"No it's okay Juliet, I might have to come and ask you a question later though if you aren't busy," Camille told her, shaking off her self-doubt. Once she actually used the system she'd probably work it out.

"Of course, anytime. Out of interest what system do you use in Saint Marie? To cross reference interview statements and the like?"

Camille took a brief moment to consider how it was best to phrase it, then just shrugged and told Juliet the truth, "A whiteboard."

The two other uniformed officers working with Juliet stopped typing at her admission to look up in disbelief. Camille heard one of them say 'wow' quietly. Juliet shot them a look and said severely, "They have a case closure rate of 92%!" and both officers went back to their work without further comment.

"How do you know our statistics?" Camille asked curiously.

"Data is sort of my thing, I love facts and figures," Juliet told her, smiling. Then, clearly trying to keep the look of concern off her face, added casually, "And seriously, anytime you have a question. Just ask."