**OK, I'll state right here that I have no knowledge of how the British law network functions or what Richard Poole was like before he left London… but this is what flew out of my fingertips and I'm going with it despite whatever flaws you may find. This topic is endlessly fascinating to me so if you want to argue, drop me a line to discuss it in more detail. S/P**

Part 11 of 15 – DI Poole of The Met

Charlie Hulme is murdered on or about 9pm. Notification is sent to Guadeloupe by 11pm and sent on to The Met, London, England, by midnight where the night-desk sergeant makes a quick call to his old Guvner at Croydon who answers the phone with a sleepy stifled oath but immediately hushes at this most unexpected news. The Guvner spends an hour at his desk, making notes, making plans, and finally goes back to bed with a strange look on his face. It's a smile. A happy relieved smile tinged with thanks. It's an ill wind that doesn't blow someone some good, after all!

8am, Croydon Station

Oh, dear, the Guv wants me. This can't be good. What have my co-workers been telling him now?

Oh, damn, it must be bad, the man is actually smiling! At me! OK, Poole, just sit in the chair and try to stay calm. No matter what happens, it can't be as bad as you th… … …

WHAT did he just say? The Caribbean? A plane… two lay-overs… in nine hours? London-Paris-Guadeloupe-Saint WHERE? Tidy my desk, pack a bag, lock up my house, a taxi will be sent? WHAT?!

Oh, he's finished. He's shaking my hand. He's escorting me to the door. Where am I? What just happened? I think I'll go to my office in the basement and wake up now. Ha ha, nightmare over!

Noon, Croydon Station, basement

Why are people coming in here? Why is everyone slapping my back and shaking my hand? I don't know any of these people! Do I? Um... besides, I'll never get my desk cleaned off if I don't get some peace. Why are people offering to help? No one ever wanted these files before. What's going on? Everyone seems so gleeful. They keep telling me I've been given a 'golden ticket'. What's that, I wonder?

The only saving grace in all this is the complete absence of that utter tosser Anderson! How glad I am now that he's on 'medical leave' aka 'drying out' and not here bothering me with his stupid, fake, glad-handing, knife-in-the-back heartiness! That's the only silver lining I can see in this whole storm. Yeah, Anderson. Git.

At least Doris seemed sad to hear my news. Well, not exactly sad actually, more a cautious optimism. I wonder what she meant by 'finding my people at last'? Still and all, that last cuppa was marvelous and will have to tide me over until I return. Thanks, Doris, you're the only one I'll miss but I'll be home before you know it so don't fret.

4pm, Croydon Station, street-side

They didn't have to shove so hard to put me out the door and onto the street! I think I'm insulted! And why is there a taxi waiting for me? Oh, this feels like a conspiracy!

6:30pm, from a quiet shady street to Heathrow

A taxi arrives and the Guv is inside? He escorts me to the airport, shoves me through Security, has a private word and now the guards are eyeing me up like I'm trouble? They escort me into a private waiting area and sit with me until the plane boards? They walk me onto the plane and hand me over to the crew with yet another private word? Am I suddenly paranoid? Am I reading too much into this rushed stampede to get me out of the country? Should I be even MORE insulted?

The flight to Paris

I'm breathing used air that's passed through 180 pairs of lungs! I think I'm going to be sick but there's no way I am stepping foot into that bread box of a loo. Nor am I touching any of those cardboard snacks or imbibing germ-laden liquids… Ooo, is that tea?

Tah. Sip. Yrrrgh! You call this tea?! My god, I know this is a French airline but can't you manage a simple cuppa just to keep peace between our peoples? No? Of course not, that would be too much to ask, wouldn't it? Got any bottled water and sanitizer wipes?

The flight to Guadeloupe

Oh, god, 9 more hours… more used air… 75 pairs of lungs… I'm starving AND I never got my tea! Maybe if I nap, it will go faster? Zzzzzzz… nope… turbulence over Bermuda. I need the loo. Maybe if I close my eyes real tight and don't think about it, I can get in and out without too much trouble?

… … …

I am NEVER going to think about it. Never! EVER!

Perhaps if I ask real nice, the attendant can find me a rubber mallet to knock myself out?

End – Part 11