S1 E5 - The Golden Goose
Selwyn Patterson not only LOOKS like the cat that got the cream, he looks like the cat who owns the dairy. He sits at his desk, feet up, ankles neatly crossed, hands behind his head, and rocks sedately from side to side, smiling fit to burst.
A double murder could be going on right outside his door and he wouldn't care! Pick up the phone, say two little words, and it will be solved tomorrow… today even!
Ah, yes. Two little words. "Send Poole."
Eight murders, one devilishly intricate suicide, AND the almost certain recovery of $2 million to be returned to the good people of Sainte-Marie! All incredible feats of logic and deduction that defied everything and everyone. And! All within four months.
Pure satisfaction washes through him: better than winning a bet, better than eating a good steak, better than a shot of finest Caribbean rum. The absolute tip-top best feeling of making those nabobs down at Government House EAT CROW! It had been blissful. Sublime. Almost sexual.
And he knows exactly who he has to thank for it. The mastermind behind everything.
Himself, of course. Himself.
From now on, no matter WHAT happens, he will merely frown, nod, look sage, and send for Poole. The man never disappointed. He has some sort of super power that no one can see. What great good fortune that the man washed up on Sainte-Marie's shores and not to some other islands he could mention but would NOT.
Oh, yes. They'd all laughed at the awkward Brit… but not now! No sir. They are sniffing around, maneuvering for leverage, looking for a means to steal him away. Let them try. He has them all over a barrel and they will pay dearly for every insult and slight he's endured at their hands. Oh, the privileges and perks he will squeeze out of his enemies just at the barest hint of perhaps allowing his best man to consider working other cases elsewhere. It is too delicious.
Poole is his and his alone. His brethren. But…
A frown creases his jovial face. But… how to keep him? The man isn't happy. He hates the heat, the bugs, the sand. He has no family, no friends. Nothing to hold him. Problem!
First, he needs a proper home, an oasis, a haven of comfort. Easy. There are many properties better suited for a career officer. He will have a new home within the month. Done.
Next, friends. His team are friends of a sort. He will make more once he starts attending government functions and meeting people. With proper guidance, he will soon have a full circle of friends. Done.
Family. Hmmm. Impossible to create blood kin. Perhaps his parents could be persuaded to relocate? After all, who doesn't want to live in paradise? He makes a mental note to start that ball rolling.
What he really needs is a wife to tie him down good and proper. Match-making, how delightful. He suddenly thinks of his own dear wife. She would love to handle this delicate search. Done.
As for the man's future, Deputy Commissioner is only a step away, and now that Selwyn has a sure-fire winner ready to step into his shoes, he can now concentrate on his own rise in power. With Poole backing him up, how far can he go? Pretty damn far, he suspects.
Lost in pleasant dreams of glory, Selwyn almost misses the tiny memory that bobs up. Him. Chewing out Poole. Over the murder of the fake Leon Hamilton.
His size 13 boots came down with a thump. Goodness! He needs to make a phone call! Better yet, he needs to hare off to the station with a bottle of his best rum and a dinner invitation to his Club. Sweeping up his hat, the Commissioner hustles out, calling for his driver, telling his assistant to begin looking for a suitable house, and on the cell phone to his wife.
So much to do in so short a time! Haste! Haste! Don't lose the golden goose!
Poole is his and he will protect him with every weapon he has at his disposal. Protect and keep.
As the great man steams away under full sail, a tiny green lizard watches from outside the office window. It bobs and signals to another across the street. By the time the Commissioner reaches the police station and is lathering on the old oil and greasing the skids for Poole's advancement in life, the Loa knew everything.
If, indeed, they hadn't planned it in the first place.
END – S1 E5 – The Golden Goose