Chapter 7: Revelations
Over the next few days, Millie attempted to make herself useful. There were thankfully no murders, but they did get wind of some illegal money lending. Millie collated data and put in a few phone calls to London to get ID's sorted. She also gave an off the cuff seminar about dealing with bereaved families to the ever keen Fidel, and Richard may even have made a few notes whilst pretending to do paperwork.
But for every useful thing she did, Camille hadn't failed to notice she was also very good at causing distractions. Her suitcase proved to contain even more "English delights". When she had arrived to pick up her boss the next morning she'd found him eating semolina pudding out of a tin. She'd gamely tried a spoonful, and he had laughed at the expression on her face when she tried not to spit it back out.
"Quite often served in schools for desert," Richard had explained to her.
"Do the English not like their children?" had been her reply.
Camille would admit to rather enjoying the biscuit dunking competition that has ensued between herself, Millie, Dwayne and Fidel after Millie had tried to explain the proper technique to Dwayne. Eventually it had gotten on Richard's nerves and he'd confiscated the biscuits.
DC Peterson's presence made everyone a little off balance. In those three days she hung about the station, she didn't think she'd ever seen her boss so relaxed, and the murderer of the apparent love of his life was rapidly approaching the island – normally something that would induce stress. Sometimes Millie would lean in and tell him something in a low voice and he'd actually smile at her, a genuine smile and the kind he so rarely gave to her. That might be for the best though; when he did she'd noticed her stomach flipped in response. She wasn't going to bother being in denial, a part of her hated the fact that Millie knew Richard Poole better than she did.
"Have you ever been in love?" She'd once asked him cheekily. Now she knew the answer. Now the question was could he ever be in love again. Think about it, what woman could compare in his head, his heart, to the never-aging tragically murdered lover.
Great, thought Camille, now I'm jealous of a dead woman. She'd been staring at him during this entire train of thought, and was relieved that he hadn't looked up and caught her. Millie, on the other hand, was watching her. She smiled when she caught her eye. Tomorrow they'd be arresting a killer, DC Millie Peterson would leave, and Richard would probably go back to his normal levels of pompousness and arrogance.
But it didn't feel like it would be the same. God, what was wrong with her? This was Richard Poole! The most English person she had ever met, rude to the point of her wanting to strangle him on occasion but, oh no, she had to decide he was just guarded. That he had walls up she simply had to keep pushing against, so she teased him and questioned him and ended up liking what she heard.
She let out far too heartfelt a sigh considering she was surrounded by her colleagues. Richard glanced up from his work, but she just shook her head wearily, feigning tiredness.
Millie stood rather suddenly, "I'd like to go down to the ferry terminus, walk the staging area before tomorrow."
Richard regarded her for a moment, "Do you want some company?" He asked reaching for his jacket.
"Yes, Camille would you join me?" Both she and Richard were startled by the question, and Camille looked at the Inspector who just shrugged and nodded his permission if she wanted to go.
"Okay," she agreed.
Millie stood and looked out at the bustling port. On the way she'd asked questions about Camille's time in Guadeloupe and Paris. Camille had a feeling that Millie was constantly analysing people, building up her own psychological profile. If she wasn't a police officer, she'd probably be a great con artist. It was obvious Richard felt similarly, she'd over heard him tell Millie he was glad she was on their side when they returned from their meeting with the Commissioner, a man now on the list of people charmed by DC Millie Peterson.
"When Richard first contacted me, I shouted at him for over 2 hours," Millie spoke up suddenly. "I would have gone there and done it in person, but I wasn't in The Met at the time I was in Cambridgeshire Police. I was so pissed off with him. I felt like he'd just put me aside when Madeline died, I was back to being that kid who ended up losing two people not one. There was this memorial concert a year after Maddie died, I saw him there and he barely acknowledged me."
"I'm sure he never meant to hurt you," Camille said to her – and she was sure.
"Oh I know," Millie continued. "He let me call him all these God-awful things and then explained his reasoning, however flawed, was that he thought it would help me move on. I believe I then proceeded to give me a lecture on child psychology. Then I forgave him, because for some reason he's really hard to stay mad at. I think it's because he's so stubborn that when he apologies you realise how sincere it is."
Camille smiled, "The first time he apologised to me for something I was lost for words."
"Do I want to know what he did?"
"Ran away when we turned the lights out to bring in his cake and sing happy birthday."
"Ha! That sounds like him. Madeline used to say he grew up on the periphery, so hated being centre of attention. She was always trying to force him into the spotlight; I think it's good for him, I rather think you are as well."
Camille felt a rush of confused emotions at this statement, and Millie seemed to realise what her statement implied.
"Oh sorry, I'm not trying to compare you to Madeline that wouldn't be right. I don't think Richard would ever do that either. I mean she was feisty and gorgeous as well but otherwise you're quite different."
Camille was now at the point where she just wanted this to be over, "Look, if you're implying there is something going on between the Inspector and I well there isn't, we're just colleagues and friends."
"Yes, I'm aware," Said Millie dismissively. "So as his friend as well, I'm saying, look after him when he's gone will you? When I moved to The Met, Richard kept finding ways to put off meeting up. At first I thought he was busy, then just anti-social. But then I heard talk and I realised his colleagues back in London they didn't…get him. He struggled. I think he genuinely worried I'd be stained by association with him, so he avoided me. Of course now case closure rates have fallen 30% most of his colleagues are kicking themselves, I know I got seconded to Croydon during a series of murders."
She smiled in satisfaction, and Camille felt that same surge of pride she got when she saw Richard close a case, she loved the fact he was there's now.
"You guys, I think you don't always get him, but a bit like a family you are willing to put up with him. You're protective of him and I'm just…I'm glad. I know he cares about you to."
There were clearly layers to that statement, and Camille wished they were speaking French so she'd know if Millie had been using the singular or plural you, as the last part of what she said had felt rather directed at Camille.
What the hell, why not be her usual abrupt self? "Did he say anything to you? About…the team?" Okay maybe not 100% upfront.
"I'll admit we had a pretty revealing conversation about you," Still unclear if it was the plural or the singular. "I was very interested in your team dynamics."
"They are pretty unique," conceded Camille.
"It's funny, I tried to weasel all this information out of him and he thought he was so smart that he didn't admit to anything – but it was his comeback that gave it all away."
"I'm sorry but I don't follow you."
"That would be my fault; I'm still not sure what to tell you. He so often does the wrong thing for the right reasons, like when he cut himself off from me after Madeline's death. I'm not sure it's a habit he's broken."
Camille was getting increasingly frustrated. Millie seemed to cause as many emotional rollercoasters as she experienced herself in the course of a day. Now she was standing here, staring off into the middle distance moodily, attempting to decide what she felt it was right for Camille to know. Personally, Camille was a little tempted to push her into the harbour.
"OH JUST BLOODY TELL ME!" She suddenly exploded.
Millie startled and then grinned; "Bloody tell you?" she quoted. "Oh my God you've spent too much time with that man. Felt like you were channelling him there for a second."
Truth be told, so did Camille, but there was no way she was admitting that out loud. So she just put her hands on her hips and gave Millie her best glare, normally reserved for Richard when he was at his most annoying. However this seemed to amuse Millie further.
"Oh yes, I like you, you are definitely good for him. So I was teasing him about rather liking you, saying I could tell thanks for my Cognitive Neuroscience degree, but he denied everything. At the end of the evening when I bemoaned the fact I hadn't got him to admit anything do you know what he said?"
"What?"
"You clearly didn't study hard enough," Millie announced dramatically. "Oh! Ice cream!"
As Millie wondered off to order a cone, Camille wondered if the woman was actually all there. I mean what sort of great revelation was that? She'd been hoping for something a little more straightforward than 'you clearly didn't study hard enough'. I mean it was typical Richard, bragging about not having admitted to anything under duress…oh…oh.
He'd bragged about not admitting to anything.
There was something to admit.
