Chapter 10 – Confessions
When Camille arrived at the little shack on the beach, she noticed with a mix of relief and trepidation that the shutters were open – and so was the veranda door. So, Richard and Elvis obviously were home, and she wouldn't have to sit around waiting for them. For a brief moment she had considered just leaving the bag on the veranda in case the house was empty, but somehow that hadn't seemed right… also because she really wanted to make up for having been so irritated earlier on – although she wasn't sure whether or not it would make a difference in the end. Richard was so uptight – it was hard to understand how he was wired.
She remained seated for a few minutes before she finally heaved a sigh and got off the car. It was really pointless to try finding a catchy line that would pave the way for a smooth order of events tonight… She knew that he'd be unwelcoming and stand-offish, and she was well aware of the risk of making it all worse if she said something that embarrassed him or made him feel stupid.
So, with some apprehension, she approached the house, her handbag over her shoulder, the paper bag with the beach slippers on one hand, the car keys in the other…
What she hadn't taken into account in her reflections, though, had been Elvis. Like dogs usually do, he had a fine sense of hearing, and he had noticed her arrival already – while Richard was in the bathroom, changing into something comfortable, Elvis had pricked his ears when he had heard the Rover stopping on the beach, and when Camille came up to the bungalow, the mutt jumped up and stormed down the veranda to greet her. He was hoping for some cuddling – today he had got ignored quite a bit, and he was keen on getting this rectified.
So when Richard came out of his shack to find out what the ruckus was about, he found Camille kneeling in the sand, cuddling and petting Elvis – who was yapping, wheezing and trying to lick her hands while she was laughing and throwing back her hair as he was now making an attempt at licking her face – in vain, but he kept trying.
Eventually, she got up – and her eyes fell on Richard who was standing on the veranda, with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. He was not happy at all with Elvis's enthusiastic behaviour, but well, who could blame him… he hadn't had a great day, all things considered, and it was no surprise that he tried to find compensation for being treated like crap all day long. Richard knew only too well that he had taken his frustrations out on the little dog by ignoring him most of the afternoon – and he felt guilty for doing so…
What was he supposed to say or do now? Why had Camille come at all?
She saw the apprehension – or was it hostility? - in his gaze and cleared her throat, holding out the bag in her hand. "Here," she said, "you forgot these, and I figured… I figured you might need them tonight…"
It was lame, she was well aware of that. But it broke the ice, and although she wasn't quite sure, she had the impression that he seemed relieved she had spoken first.
He nodded and said "Thank you." He shifted from one foot to the other and racked his brain, trying to find something to say that wouldn't sound too stupid and could help to ease the tension without him losing face.
After a few moments of awkward silence he said a little gruffly "I was… I was going to take Elvis for his evening walk. Would you… maybe… want to come along?"
She had come up the steps to the veranda in the meantime. Now, she smiled a little nervously and then said warmly "That would be fun, yes… I have spent most of the day sitting, so it would be good to get a little exercise… but maybe you want to take these inside first?"
A few minutes later, they strolled along the beach together, cautiously avoiding getting too close too each other.
Elvis obviously felt that he had to work off a surplus of energy – he was running ahead of them (as fast as he could with his considerably short legs), returning time and again to run around them in circles, scampering away again to explore something that had piqued his interest, jumping up and down to remind Richard of throwing sticks for him, and finally darting off to the water to get his feet wet and play with the surf.
A log of driftwood was sitting there on the beach, and Richard established himself on it with a sigh, watching Elvis 'chasing' the surf. Camille stood for a moment, then she sat down beside him, making sure there was some space between them.
They hadn't spoken much – the truth was that neither of them knew what to say. Their mutual unease was tangible - they both felt they were moving on new ground somehow… the happenings of last night and today had made it obvious that things were shifting between them, and neither of them knew how to deal with this situation.
Finally, Richard broke the silence and said, pointing to Elvis "I don't know where he takes the energy – he's had a long day, and still he's full of vim and vigour…"
Camille smiled and responded matter-of-factly "Well, he has spent a great deal of the afternoon snoring on his blanket, so he can't be all that tired." Then, as an afterthought she added "And he's really just a teenager, if you consider it."
Richard snorted and said "That's an interesting way to look at it, but yes, of course that's right…" Then he shouted "Oh, come on, Elvis – do not go into the water!"
Elvis didn't listen at first, and so Richard got up and marched in Elvis's direction –and the little dog immediately rushed out of the surf and buzzed off to explore a few boulders sitting around on the beach, giving Richard a cheeky sideways glance.
As Richard came back to sit down again next to Camille, she said a little provocatively "See – he's a teenager. Trying to see how far he can go without having to face consequences…"
With raised eyebrows, Richard replied "Yes, you've got a point there. Although I can't say I know that behaviour all that much from my own experience… but it does seem quite common for that age range…"
Camille looked at his profile and asked "You didn't do that as a teenager?"
Richard shook his head. "I can't remember. Actually, I don't even remember having been a teenager." He turned his head to look at her and said deadpan "I think I've always been an adult."
Camille couldn't help but laugh. This was such a typical remark for him. However, she sobered quickly and asked again "No rebellions? No 'I know better than you'? No trying out forbidden things with your friends?"
He answered with a shake of his head and said casually "Not really, no. Well, I did think I knew better, but I didn't try out any forbidden things with friends."
He paused, then he added almost against his will "I had no friends, you know. I wasn't one of the cool kids."
Silence.
He looked down on his hands and said a little sulkily "I don't expect you to understand what that is like. I suppose you were cool, and your peers at school scrambled to get closer to you…"
When Camille didn't respond, he turned to look at her and found her staring at him incredulously. Then she laughed a little bitterly and asked "And what makes you think that I was so popular?"
"Well… weren't you?" he stuttered, and with some bafflement he recognised that she was shaking her head.
"But…" He didn't get any further.
She sighed and cut him off by saying "You think I must have been one of the cool kids because I come across as self-confident and 'savvy'… Well, let me tell you that I haven't always been like that."
He waited, and finally she went on "You know, I've always been fairly headstrong, that's true, and I've always had a bit of a rebellious streak. But that doesn't necessarily make you popular."
She hadn't intended to tell him about all this – not tonight, at least – but perhaps it would be a good thing if he realised that she hadn't always had it easy… He seemed to think that everyone was riding the bus, but he was the only one who had to pay… well, that wasn't true, and maybe it would put things into perspective for him if she gave him an idea of what life had been like for her as a teen.
So, after another pause, she explained "To be fair, at the end of my school days, I had a nice group of friends, but before that, I was quite a loner. I thought I knew better than anyone – in hindsight, I think I was very judgemental and absolute in my opinions. Well, many young people are like that, so I don't think I fell out of the norm, but still… it must have been hard for my mother sometimes to bear with my moods and my general attitude. I do know it was hard for my teachers. I didn't want to fit in and follow the rules, I was defiant, and I was sulky. My marks left a lot to be desired for a while because I rather wagged school and went swimming than sit in class and learn about whatever topic. I was anything but a model student. The nuns – you know I attended a school that's run by nuns - regularly gave me extra essays to write – as a punishment, and I used them for making a big pseudo-intellectual statement about life and the universe! – and pretty much everyone thought I was a hopeless case. My class mates were afraid of being seen with me because their parents told them to avoid me. I meant trouble. I was quite lonely."
Richard looked at her, incredulously. Never had he thought she'd have a skeleton like this in her closet. It didn't seem to fit the picture of the self-assured, confident woman that he had always had of her.
Suddenly, he realised that maybe she expected him to say something, so he croaked "And what… I mean how…"
She hadn't looked at him, but now she turned her head and smiled. "Sister Mary Frances was the only one who didn't believe I was a rotten apple. She never gave up on me. When I was 14 and already had a bit of a reputation, she approached me and 'asked' me to participate in the 'big buddy programme' that the school had recently introduced. I was too old already… the norm was that each new student got matched up with an older student of 11 or 12 who was then responsible for the newbie to a certain extent. You had to show your little 'brother' or 'sister' around, you had to make sure they were comfortable, you had to help them through whatever hiccup that could occur… it's a pretty good idea. Well, as I said, I was actually too old, and all newbies had been matched up, anyway. Not that I really wanted to be a 'big buddy'– it all sounded like nonsense to me. I had found my way alone, so others could do the same, I figured. But around All Saints' Day that year, in the middle of the new school year, a new girl was enrolled at my school… and Sister Mary Frances ordered me to become her 'big sister'… I had no choice…"
She smiled now, lost in memories. After a little while she concluded "And that's how I met Aimee."
Richard gave a faint "Ah…"
He had often wondered how Camille and Aimee could be school friends when Aimee had been clearly younger than his Detective Sergeant. Aimee had been 24 when she had been murdered, and Camille obviously was over 30 already, so…
Elvis had got bored from exploring the boulders in the meantime and returned to the log of driftwood, but instead of engaging in playing with him, Richard just took up a stick and threw it, absent-mindedly. Elvis decided to humour him and zoomed off, and Richard turned to Camille and asked "And this is how you became friends?"
"Well, not rightaway. There was the age difference, of course, and I think I scared her out of her wits at first, but once I had found my feet in the situation, we got on quite well. Well, she was a first grader, and she was in awe of me for some time, but eventually, we became more like sisters. Perhaps because she was all by herself and needed someone to lean on – her mother had died in a car crash, and Aimee had been taken to the orphanage that's also run by the church. Of course, Sister Mary Frances had got it all right… She had said that our Mother Superior had claimed I wasn't mature enough for acting as a 'mentor', and naturally, that annoyed me because it implied that I was less mature than the 12 year olds who usually were the 'big buddies'. So, of course, I did my best to prove her wrong and justify Sister Mary Frances's faith in me."
She grinned as she continued "It was hard work, you know. I had to shake off my 'I don't care' attitude and turn into a role model for Aimee. I had to give her advice, show her how to deal with difficult situations, teach her to stand up for herself… all that. It wouldn't have been credible if I had stuck with my former behaviour… And as I tried to get on better with the people around me so Aimee wouldn't think I was preaching water and drinking wine, if you know what I mean, I learnt how to compromise, how to understand others and see their point of view… it was a very valuable lesson. Those years really shaped me, I must admit."
Richard watched Elvis who was apparently trying to play hopscotch on the beach – he was jumping up and down and running around in a higgledy-piggledy manner, chasing his own short tail – and said thoughtfully "So this is why you were so close… it must have been like you lost a sister when she died…" He turned to her and remarked a little reproachfully "Why didn't you tell me back then?"
She shrugged and replied "You didn't ask."
The look on his face spoke volumes. She felt a little embarrassed and said relentingly "I know. I'm sorry. I should have mentioned it. It must have seemed… out of proportion to you. I mean, sure, we all grieve when we lose a friend, but well… my reaction was fairly strong."
She sighed and continued "I just didn't think you'd understand. And when we… when you had solved the case, I felt… I felt guilty… and I didn't want to talk about it any more. I wanted to keep all the grief along with the guilt to myself."
Elvis had scuttled up to them in the meantime and tried to jump on Camille's lap, but he wasn't nimble enough, so he just sat there, panting and trying to gain her attention. She reached out to pet him, and he moved closer.
Richard's voice sounded startled when he asked "Why on earth would you feel guilty?"
Camille was silent for a while. Then she drew in a deep breath and said "I felt I had failed her. I felt that I hadn't… that I hadn't been there for her. I felt that I hadn't realised that she wanted this job in Miami so badly that she was ready to do something illegal and… and blackmail someone. I didn't know that she had the criminal energy for that, and I felt that… Oh, I know, it sounds pathetic, but… I felt that it would have been my task to make her understand that there are always honourable ways and that you should rather wait and do the right thing than be so keen on something that you end up doing something illegal and disgraceful… Once your integrity is gone, you'll do it again and again and again because – let's face it, you got away with it once, so you'll get away with it again… And so she took that path – and it killed her because she was so naïve to think that the man she was trying to blackmail would not lash out and hit back. I should have listened better and understood that something wasn't quite right, that she couldn't possibly break that contract without having to pay a fine… and all that…"
Richard didn't quite know what to say. He had never expected a confession like that. In hindsight, this explained a lot… He realised that Camille still was guilt stricken – she tried not to think about it, but it was clear that these thoughts and feelings came back to haunt her regularly. Otherwise she wouldn't have been able to put them into words like that – it was obvious that she had spent quite a bit of time on dwelling and reflecting on them.
"Oh well," Camille said eventually, "I suppose there's nothing I could do about it any more."
"No, there isn't," Richard conceded. Then he said a little abruptly "Let's go back to my house. We can… we can sit on the veranda and talk a little more, if you… if you like…"