Dwayne was slumped at his desk clutching an ice pack to his head like a lifeline.
"Tell me it's almost Thursday," sighed Richard bitterly, flicking the fan moodily and promptly squeaking out in pain.
Fidel whipped his head to his inspector at the sound.
"It's Monday," said Camille shortly. "And what's this?"
She had gravitated towards Richard's desk at the sight of a large cardboard box smothered in exotic stamps.
"Oh, that," Richard said wearily. He straightened out the damp hanky and placed it on his desk. "Arrived yesterday. It's addressed to Humphrey and I thought since I didn't actually know him..."
"You're right, it wouldn't be fair," said Camille, surprising him in her agreement. "I'll open it."
Accepting the scissors offered to her by Fidel, she stabbed the line of tape coating the top of the box and drew the scissors downwards in a sharp line. The rest of the team watched on as she delved into the box and produced small envelope.
" 'Humph. Hope what you're looking for is in here, love mum'," she read aloud.
She shrugged at her colleagues and dipped her hand through the cardboard flaps again - she drew out a photo album. With care that Richard couldn't help noticing, she opened the book.
"It's a university album," she said softly.
Quietly, he came and stood behind her.
"Look, that's Humphrey and Sasha," murmured Camille, looking up at her superior earnestly, temporarily forgetting that she wasn't on the best terms with him. He looked back at her, equally serious, sensing in that moment traces of the natural chemistry they experienced so often when they worked together a few months ago.
"There's Humphrey again," said Richard, as she turned the page. "Sasha, with... Who's that?"
"Her sister?" Camille suggested. "They look similar."
"Mmm. Oh, look - there's a group photo," exclaimed Richard.
Gently, Camille placed the album on her desk and the pair leant over the photo - heads touching - squinting at the tiny people swathed in black robes and hats.
Dwayne clicked his teeth to get Fidel's attention. See what I mean about the thing they had? Such a thing, he mouthed, grinning cheekily. Fidel squashed a laugh.
"That's Humphrey," said Camille.
"And there's Sasha again - they're holding hands," Richard added.
"They must have been close," his colleague breathed.
"James doesn't look too happy about it, though," said Richard, pointing out the distinct figure of James Moore.
"Neither does Angela," Camille remarked. "But where's Roger?"
They scoured the page for another minute before Richard turned to her, "He's not there."
Both detectives frowned, and then noticed suddenly how close they were. Richard became paralysingly conscious of the fact that he could probably count her eyelashes if he tried. One, two, three... Yep, he could count them. Equally shocked by the proximity, Camille drew away abruptly. The inspector retreated to his own desk.
"There's a diary," Camille said, holding up a tattered brown book just larger than the size of her hand.
"You'd better read it," said Dwayne. "You were closest to him."
What was that supposed to mean? thought Richard indignantly. They were close?! Had they- Had he- If he'd...
"Sir, I may be onto something."
"Mm?" Richard forced himself to stop thinking about Humphrey and Camille being in a relationship and to focus instead on the promising young officer was supposedly onto something.
"I've just uncovered a series of deleted emails to and from the UK," said Fidel gleefully.
"To?" enquired Richard.
"Humphrey. From Angela Birkett, this is. Now, I'm not sure, but it looks like she was inviting him to their reunion."
"How come?"
"'If you don't want to come here, perhaps I could persuade the others to come to Saint-Marie' That's what one of the emails says."
Camille looked up from the diary she was resting between her knees. "So it wasn't a coincidence they came here."
"She lied to us?" asked Dwayne, sitting up with the icepack still in hand.
"She lied to us," confirmed Richard, glancing at Camille to see if she was thinking the same as him.
She shrugged lightly. "Let's go talk to her."
0000000000
"You lied to us," Richard remarked frankly, upon approaching the blonde, who was seated at a beachside table.
Angela looked up, baffled. "Sorry, what?"
Camille drew out a chair and sat down. "About how you picked Saint-Marie as your destination," she prompted, propping her cheek up on her hand and surveying the suspect's appearance - the Sergeant knew only too well how much information could be gained from a suspect's physical behaviour. Like now, for instance. Birkett was tucking hair frantically behind her ears like she'd done in the interview. Nervous.
"Oh. Oh, I- well, yes, I suppose I did," Angela admitted.
"Why?" asked Richard coolly, sitting down on the chair next to Camille.
The blonde turned to face the sea, watched the softly lilting rhythm of the waves for a few seconds before replying. "I loved him," she said quietly. "Not that he was ever interested in me - no matter how hard I tried." She laughed a little.
Inspector and Sergeant exchanged a glance.
"That doesn't explain why you lied to us, though," Camille offered gently.
"The others didn't know I'd arranged it here to see him. If they had, they would've teased me relentlessly - it was bad enough at uni. They said I was obsessed. If they'd known about this, well..." Angela trailed off, staring into the distance again. "But it wouldn't have been a proper reunion without Humph!"
"And you say you were never in a relationship with him?" Richard interrogated curtly.
"Oh, no, no," she was quick to object. "Of course not; he only ever had eyes for her..."
"Sasha," asked Camille, though it was more of a declarative statement than a question.
Angela nodded, smiling wryly. The detectives nodded at each other - this confirmed what the University album had suggested.
"Only she was dating James. But he helped her a lot with her dissertation, you know? They were rarely apart."
"It must've been quite the reunion when she saw him," Richard commented idly, noting internally the slight bitterness with which the woman was speaking.
"Yes, you'd think so, wouldn't you?" A frown creased her brows. "I thought she was actually rather aloof with him. Though I suppose it was for James's benefit." Seeing their confused faces, she added frankly, "James used to get a bit jealous sometimes."
"But... they were fine at the reunion?"
"Yes, yes. There they were fine. Though actually, on the day we met Humphrey in the marketplace we all went for lunch together and James took Humphrey outside. I couldn't hear what was said, of course, but there were raised voices and it sounded intense. James said it was about the tip, but I bet it was about Sasha."
Richard looked at Camille thoughtfully.
"And I'm sorry for lying," added Angela. "I really did love him and I- I could never have done... Anything to harm him."
Camille shot her a small smile. "Thank you for your time."
0000000000
As the duo walked back to the jeep, Richard's mind was whirring with the details of the case. A cup of tea; a bowl of crisps; a novel in French.
It really seemed that to understand the case, he was going to have to learn more about the person. Starting with...
"Is there anything in the diary that might help us?" he asked Camille thoughtfully, opening the land rover door and jumping into the car before buckling his seatbelt.
Shrugging, she slammed her door shut. "He was very much in love with Sasha," she offered, revving up the engine.
"But they were just friends? That's what she," he nodded towards Angela, sat alone watching the surf, "implied, right?"
Camille raised her brows, eyes fixed on the road in front of her. "It's clear that Humphrey wanted more."
"Does it say much about James? The diary, I mean?"
"Yes," sighed his sergeant. "It cements everything Angela just told us - the boyfriend hates the friendship between Humphrey and Sasha. But Sasha sticks up for Humphrey, from what I can gather."
"Which probably makes him less popular with James," murmured Richard thoughtfully.
She shot him a sideways glance, privately impressed. Perception... That was certainly a new trait in the uptight, pedantic Poole she'd used to know, inwardly, and "Yes, probably," outwardly.
They lapsed into silence, jolting over potholes noisily, Richard fidgeting with the case in his head: twisting and turning to see new angles and dimensions. A cup of tea; a bowl of crisps; a novel in French.
"Another thing the diary mentioned," remarked Camille presently, when they were on slightly smoother tarmac, "Was the sister - Helen Reid?"
"Ah?" A non-commital response from the inspector.
A quick look at him and Camille determined he was in his own little world. She decided it was best to continue anyway, "She was a year below them in university and took it upon herself to tell Humphrey (when he left, this is) that he wasnt beinh fair with Sasha."
"Mmhmm."
"Humphrey realised it was true and decided to never see her again," Camille shrugged, "It's kind of sad, really."
"Yes. Yes it is," agreed Richard absently, mind still fiddling with the facts of Humphrey's murder.
"It... Didn't work, though, did it?" she commented.
"No. No, it didn't."
Camille parked up the jeep and surveyed her superior again, noting his glazed eyes.
0000000000
"I checked out the restaurant they dined at on the first day and I interviewed a waitress," called Dwayne from his desk, when they walked into the station.
Camille teased, "A pretty one with large breasts?" at the same time as Richard said "What did she say?".
Dwayne winked at Camille. "As it happens, she was rather pretty. And as for her bre-"
"-thank you Dwayne," Richard interjected, mopping his forehead with a handkerchief. "What did she say?"
"That she saw the argument between James and Humphrey, and it looked pretty heated." Dwayne checked his notepad. "She also said she heard the name-"
"-Sasha," Camille supplied.
Dwayne nodded.