S2 E7 – It's Just Drinks

In public

As the team takes Professor King into custody and Richard is packing up his briefcase and Camille is conveniently not paying attention - Dean Hearst sidles up to Richard and says, "I've never been instrumental in solving a murder case before. I must say, it's very exciting, nerve-racking really. I could use a nice calming drink. Would you care to join me in my office for some very peaceful brandy?"

Richard checks on his team. Everything is proceeding apace; surely I can be spared for a few moments? He hasn't had a single moment of academic contact since arriving at Saint-Marie. How he's missed it. Surely a scholarly drink is his just due? He turns back to the Dean and nods, "I would like that very much, thank you."

The Dean smiles and holds out a gesturing hand, showing him the way. They wander off down the hallway together, chatting chummily of lofty and brainy things. When Camille looks up several moments later, he is gone. She doesn't think much of it.

Then.

In private

In the Dean's office, he relaxes on the leather sofa with a snifter of excellent brandy. He sips his drink and lets it wash tranquil quietude over him. He sighs, "You can't know this but I majored in History. I often wonder what would have happened if I'd stayed in academia instead of joining the force."

She studies him for a long time from her place by the mini-bar, "It's hard to say which would be the greater loss… your influence on young minds or your acumen in catching killers. What do you think?"

He laughs a bit deprecatingly, "Oh, well, when you say it like that… catching killers, definitely! But I still miss it… the halls of knowledge and all that. Cool stairwells, the bells, the smell of chalk dust, the hustle and bustle of the student body, inquiring minds…"

"Mmm-hmm," she murmurs, slowly making her way across the room towards the sofa, "I must say your mind impresses me greatly. It makes me wonder…"

He takes another sip, not really listening as she sinks onto the cushion beside him, "Wonder what?"

Her next words choke the brandy in his larynx as a hot hand lands on his knee, "Whether the rest of you might be just as impressive. Care to join me in exploring this avenue of inquiry?"

In the meantime

Camille is concerned. Where IS he? She's looked for him everywhere he could be. Now she is wondering if he is somewhere he SHOULDN'T be? That Dean! She'd been eyeing him up pretty sharp towards the end of his Big Show-Off I'm-such-a-smarty Reveal. Might she be involved in this sudden scarcity of Inspectors? Somehow, Camille senses urgency is of the utmost importance right now.

She gets directions to the Dean's office and rushes right over. Just on the off-side chance that he got lost. Not that I for a MOMENT suspect anything untoward is going on – not him! But her? And just as she is thinking this - the door in front of her flies open and Richard comes shooting out like a comet!

It's hard to tell who is more surprised… him… her… or the Dean who is right on his heels.

He grasps Camille swiftly by the shoulders and swings her around to face the Dean who stops in her tracks with the look of a hound who has lost the scent.

"Yes!" he barks, "My Sergeant and I are due back at the station! Look at the time! Must run! Sorry about the spilt brandy. I'm sure it will blot out. Ta!" He then hastens off so swiftly that Camille and the Dean are left all alone, standing in the hall, looking at one another.

One in bewilderment. One in frustration.

Camille's bewilderment lasts about one nano-second before she recognizes the Dean's resemblance to a thwarted cat (she sees it often enough at home in the mirror, after all), gives the woman a well-deserved glower, and hares off swiftly in pursuit of the rapidly diminishing suit who manages to keep well ahead of her despite her best efforts to run him to ground.

Nothing runs faster than a terrified bachelor Chief of Police, apparently.

She catches up with him outside in the parking lot, grabs his shoulder, "And WHAT… as if I didn't already know… was THAT all about? Can't I leave you alone for even ONE minute without you getting romantically involved with whatever female bystander is handy?"

He mops his brow, breathing heavily, "Oh, Camille! You have NO idea how glad I was to see you! That woman! AND she's married! Her family portrait is on her desk!" He leans on the Jeep's hood and shudders, "How could she say such things to me?"

"WHAT things?" she almost yells at his back, one hand definitely clenching into a fiery fist of death.

He gulps a bit, stands up, starts folding his handkerchief up neatly, "Oh," he huffs shakily, waving a lackadaisical hand, "You know, how attractive my history degree is when coupled with my glamorous record as a detective inspector with a perfect solve record. How I'd be a prime catch for her university. How she could introduce me to all the right people and set me up with my own department and my own faculty and…"

Camille is rigid with offense, "OH! I can just imagine how she would set you up! Yes, I can! How dare she?! The nerve of that woman! Trying to seduce you with cheap scholarly lures when I've…"

He stops folding, "Yes?"

She is suddenly very quiet, "Um, what?"

He is watching her very carefully over his shoulder, hearing something in her voice, "You said 'the nerve of that woman trying to seduce me whereas YOU'… You what?"

She shrugs and is immediately busy with packing him up into the truck, "Oh, you know, where I have to protect your honour from all comers. That's my job after all, keeping the boss safe and doing his job. Criminals don't catch themselves, you know."

"Hmmm," he says in a kind of 'I'm not sure I believe you' tone that she really hopes means 'I didn't understand what you almost said there'. He shoves his handkerchief back into a pocket, "Well, all right, let's get back to the station. I DO have a ton of paperwork to finish. I wasn't lying about that."

She pauses behind the wheel, "Lying? You? To the Dean? What were you lying about?"

He fidgets, "Well, um, during one of my laps around the sofa, I MIGHT have alluded to a personal relationship with a female colleague in a desperate attempt to get out of that office unmolested."

She gives him a careful look, "Did it work? Are you unmolested?" Now she has TWO fiery fists of death.

"Yes, thankfully, almost surely due to your unexpected appearance upon the scene. I can't begin to thank you enough for being in the right place at the right time." He looks over at her and chuckles, "A very useful talent for an officer of the law, don't you think?"

She isn't quite as forgiving as he is. She growls and starts the truck, "Well, that settles it!"

He gives her a puzzled look, his calm facade once more falling into place now that he is safe back in his little insular world, back with his Sergeant; safe as houses, safe as The Bank of England, safe as the EU.

She gives him a hot look in return, "I am obviously going to have to stick to you like glue from now on! Someone has to defend your honour and I'm IT! The other officers don't know the competition… I mean, people of a female nature… quite as well as I do. That's another useful talent, don't you think?"

He sighs forlornly, "Yes. Sorry. I know I'm a burden to you. It's not like I encourage it, you know."

"I know," she sighs back.

He shrugs and gestures helplessly with both palms, "It's like there's some sort of sign over my head, 'Totally clueless so try your feminine wiles on THIS one.' It's not fair. Why can't women keep their distance and just let me get on with my life?"

She sighs again, "I just wish there was some way to protect you all the time. I can't watch your back every minute of every day. I have to sleep sometime! Then there's our days off! Oh, it's hopeless."

He gives her a commiserating look, wishing he could help her solve this odd problem.

She gives him a sideways look and teases, "Maybe we could change that sign over your head somehow, from 'clueless' to 'taken'? Then they'd leave you alone, wouldn't they? Well, the decent ones anyway."

He nods, "Yes. That would be ideal but how to do it? Hmm?"

As they drive out of the lot, they both ponder this shared personal and professional dilemma.

For such smart savvy people, they can be awfully dumb.

END