I am SO sorry, everyone! Getting this fic back on track at last. Thanks to the loyal reviewers who have been gently prompting me to get on with it!

Usual disclaimers: not mine, no money.

Chapter 12

"OK, chaps. So where are we now?"

Against all the odds, the entire team, including Humphrey and Camille, had put in a reasonably early start at the station on Monday morning. Admittedly, the two senior officers looked rather worse for wear – not just Humphrey. In the early(ish) morning light, the various cuts and bruises on Camille's face, neck and arms stood out in fresh contrast – testament to the energetic fight she had put up before her hands were tied.

Dwayne winced at the sight. "When I get my hands on them… They'll soon regret laying hands on an officer, trust me on that."

"And there was I thinking you were mad because I was a woman," Camille commented, with a weary smile.

She didn't look as if she'd slept well at all, Humphrey reflected as he looked at her – paler than normal and with dark circles under her eyes. He supposed she was more unnerved by yesterday's experience than she had seemed – understandably, of course, even if she had gone undercover in the past and found herself in some hairy situations.

He had feared that he would struggle to drop off, but in fact he'd slept like the proverbial log, probably thanks in part to her kindness last night. He blushed when he thought of her putting him to bed – it seemed so babyish. He feared her reaction this morning, but she greeted him with straight-faced professionalism when she arrived to collect him at 8.30.

There had been a moment of tension when they had climbed into the jeep and their eyes had met for a long moment before she had looked away quickly and turned on the ignition. And yet another while they were compiling photo-fits of the three men for Interpol and their shoulders had brushed as she leaned over. She had moved away again quickly, as if she had been stung. He hadn't quite been able to hide his wince and when she had looked at him a little later, he sensed that she felt a little guilty about her reaction.

He tried to inject some cool professionalism into his own behaviour. "Fidel?"

The young officer turned in his chair away from his computer. "I've just e-mailed those e-fits and a description of the drug off to Interpol. It may take a while…after all, this is the Caribbean…"

He didn't need to say any more; everyone knew that drug running was rife in the region and any number of criminals was being pursued. Humphrey nodded.

"Right. Well, Camille and I are going back to that village. Dwayne, you'll check out things with your contacts, see if anyone remembers that man. Fidel, you man the office and push toxicology for the results."

"Can you also arrange for my bike to be towed?" Camille put in.

Fidel nodded. "Sure thing. Oh, by the way, boss, the hospital rang to say they'd sent your blood sample over to Guadeloupe on the morning plane. They can't detect more than a sedative and say you shouldn't have anything to worry about, but they want to double-check."

"OK, thanks." Humphrey looked around at his senior team. They all looked strained, trying to put on a brave face. It was a horrible case – no officer enjoyed investigating the unnecessary deaths of young people – and they'd had an extraordinarily stressful day yesterday. Dwayne still looked furious – he was fond of Camille and angered by her treatment, Fidel had clearly been deeply worried for them both and for the future of the peaceful little island he'd grown up on and loved, and Camille really did not need to be at work today. As for himself, he had to admit that Camille was probably right and he should be manning the desk until his knee was back to normal – or at least less painful – but he had a strong sense that he needed to be out there solving this crime as quickly as possible.

"Look -," he said, "- this is going to be a tough one. We're all going to need a break when it's over, but for now, let's just try to get through the day." He tried not to catch Camille's eye as he spoke. "First of all, we don't want any more victims. I want that drug out of circulation as soon as possible, Dwayne, so work towards that – it's your priority. Take some Specials and get them to circulate descriptions to every bar and club – and make sure they know that anyone can report anything suspicious without repercussions. I'm declaring an amnesty on drug possession until this gang has been apprehended. Let's get going."

His crutch clattered to the ground as he tried to get up; Camille grabbed it and handed it back, her face impassive.

"Thank you." He gritted his teeth as he limped out into the sunshine after his silent DS. Their horribly polite and formal interactions would soon attract the attention of the others, if they hadn't already.

"Straight to the village then, sir?" Camille gave him an enquiring look.

He cleared his throat. They needed to speak, but he didn't have the energy to tackle it right now. His knee was throbbing painfully, which didn't help.

"Not immediately. I think I'd better see the family first."

It was not his favourite task to bother a grieving family, but they needed to know that the senior officer was on the case now. She was silent for a minute and then reached over and squeezed his arm very briefly before putting the jeep in gear; he was cheered beyond all measure by this minor show of solidarity.

The Lawrences had a holiday home in a fairly exclusive neighbourhood up on the cliffs, fifteen minutes' drive outside Honore. It was the kind of area that was eerily quiet out of season, as most of the buildings here were owned by foreigners. Even in season, it wasn't exactly a hotbed of activity, and Humphrey could understand why teenage kids like Emilia and her brother might be drawn to parties in town. Their modern white house was situated towards the end of the road – the end of town, literally. Just beyond lay the rainforest. The gardens of the houses stretched out to the edge of the cliff, with a view to the open sea beyond. It was a pretty idyllic situation.

Humphrey shaded his eyes to look up at the house as they got out of the car. "Pretty well off, aren't they?"

Camille nodded; she'd been checking up on them at the station. "He's a retired diplomat, quite a bit older than her – it's a second marriage. He bought the place with his first wife – he was based out here then. That's how Sir Selwyn knows him – I believed they both worked for the Civil Service and for a while, the first Mrs Lawrence was Sir Selwyn's secretary, which is how she met her husband. The wives became friends, the children grew up together, and so on."

"Children…?" He knew that Sir Selwyn had two sons, but they were in their late thirties and no longer on the island.

"Yes – from his first marriage." She paused. "It was a tragic accident that killed his wife. Her car went over a cliff – whole thing went up in flames. His sons were about fourteen and twelve then, I think. And they left – he got a transfer back to London. The house was empty for a few years – Maman said she thought he would sell it, but he never did." She eyed the house. "In fact, it stood by itself then - they only put in the new road and built the other houses about fifteen years' ago. And around about the same time, he started coming back again. With a new wife and two young children. Since then, they've been coming over every year. Sometimes it was just the wife and children, or even just Mrs Lawrence when the children were at boarding school."

"Not his older children?"

She shrugged. "I don't know – if they do ever come, they keep a low profile."

"And what's the wife like?"

"I'm not sure – I've never met her. All I can tell you is that she's never been involved with the police, not even a traffic offence. She was very young when he came back to Sainte-Marie – I remember Maman commenting on it. She couldn't have been much more than early twenties then, with two small children. He's at least twenty years older than her."

"What about the son – have we ever had problems with him?"

"No, not until now. If he is a habitual user, he's managed to keep it quiet."

"Either that, or it's a recently-acquired habit. What is he – twenty? Can't be any older, I wouldn't think. OK, let's get it over with."

Mr and Mrs Lawrence were at home and invited Humphrey and Camille in, although they clearly didn't want to be bothered with questions. Sensing this, Humphrey was cautious in his approach, merely introducing himself, commiserating with them on their loss and assuring them that he was in charge of the investigation. He was deliberately vague about his whereabouts the previous day, merely alluding to being away on another case.

Mrs Lawrence looked quite a bit younger than her husband, and he could see which parent Emilia had inherited her fair 'English rose' looks from. She was blonde and fortyish, but a well-preserved forty, with natural good looks and very little make-up. He noted with interest that she'd maintained her pale skin very well and suspected she kept well covered up when she went outside. He couldn't tell whether she habitually kept a natural look or whether it was the fact that she was clearly in shock and didn't appear to have slept much.

Her husband didn't look sixty, although he must be at least. He was much darker than her, almost Spanish-looking, but that was evidently an effect of working in tropical climes for many years, as his pale blue eyes gave away the fact that he was also English. There was no sign of their son, but he could see a photograph of the two children on the mantelpiece, and the boy was as fair as his mother and sister. A quick glance showed him that there were no photographs of the first Mrs Lawrence or the older sons - or at least, he couldn't spot anything likely.

As he eyed the photo of Emilia and her brother, Humphrey reassured them that their son would face no charges, since he'd not been found to be in actual possession, even though he admitted to buying the drug. Although they didn't react to this, he fancied that both parents relaxed just a fraction.

Mr Lawrence put a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder as he asked Humphrey. "So, what happens now? And is there anything we can tell you that would help?"

Humphrey hesitated. It had been his intention to just pop in and reassure them, but now he asked: "What we really need is to make sure that we have identified everyone who was at that party. We think we have, but there may have been some others who left early. Do you know if any of Emilia's friends were with her?"

The Lawrences mulled this over in silence. Watching them, Humphrey could understand why they had married and why it had lasted, despite the big age gap. They seemed to complement each other – he could tell by the way they glanced at each other that they were silently weighing up the evidence and deciding what might be relevant and what might simply stir up more trouble for their friends. Clearly, the parents of the young people their children associated with would not want to be drawn into something as sordid as drug possession, not unless their evidence could actually be of use.

Mrs Lawrence broke the silence. "We can give you the names of the two girls that Emilia went into town with. They're based on this estate. But I don't know how much use it'll be. We spoke to them yesterday, and they both said that they'd left Emilia in town. She'd had a call from Eddie and told them she was going to join him at a party. They didn't want to go there, so they went on to a nightclub instead. They didn't hear from Millie again."

"And Eddie would be your son – Edward?"

They nodded. As if she could read Humphrey's next question, Mrs Lawrence said, "He's not here this afternoon. Nothing sinister, but we didn't think it was a good idea for him to be hanging around, so he's gone out sailing with a family we know. He…he's devastated by what's happened." Her eyes filled with sudden tears. "He loved her so much – we all did. I know – we know he shouldn't have done what he did, but he's not a bad boy, really…"

She broke off, covering her face. Her husband put his arm around her. He was quiet, but Humphrey could see the distress in his face – this was a case of a man who wasn't used to showing his emotions publicly, which didn't mean he wasn't distraught at his daughter's death.

Humphrey stood up. "I am so sorry for your loss – and for bothering you. I promise you I will give this my highest priority. We will bring the people who distributed this drug to justice." He hesitated. "I will have to speak to Edward too, when he's back. And…you do understand that he shouldn't leave the island at present…?"

Mr Lawrence nodded. "He'll be at your disposal when you need him."

Humphrey nodded. "There's…something else I need to ask. I'm so very sorry, but I'm afraid we must know… To your knowledge, had Emilia taken any illegal substances before?"

They shook their heads vehemently and Mr Lawrence added: "That's what I don't understand. She hated drugs and I'm quite sure she would never have taken them. She was very fit, sporty – you know, and she was obsessed with keeping healthy. She never smoked and hardly ever drank alcohol. She was planning on training as a physiotherapist…" His voice faded away.

Humphrey nodded sympathetically. "But Edward – er, Eddie, I mean – he had taken something before? To your knowledge?"

Mrs Lawrence hesitated before nodding her head, slowly. "I think he must have. Never anywhere near us, of course, but he was arrested a couple of times at university, for possession. Cannabis. And he…" she gave a short laugh. "Put it this way, he parties hard. We try to stop him, but, well – you know – he's twenty now, and you can't keep them in all the time, can you? He knows he shouldn't bring anything this house, and that's the main rule we have. Millie hates it, she's always telling him about the damage he's doing to his body…I mean, she did tell him…" She shook herself, clenching and unclenching her fists. "I'm sorry…I just don't seem to be able to remember that…"

Mr Lawrence coughed. "Yes, well…if there's anything else?"

When Humphrey answered in the negative, he wrote down the names and addresses of Emilia's two friends and then the couple accompanied them to the door.

As Humphrey shook hands, his heart went out to them. He'd dealt with any number of bereaved parents, particularly during his time at the Met, but he'd never got used to having to telling a mother or father that their child wouldn't be coming home. It must be the most terrible bereavement of all – to lose the son or daughter that you had brought into the world. No one should have to outlive their child.

Part of him wondered if that was why he'd never contemplated parenthood with Sally. Many of the seasoned Met officers had felt the same way – they'd seen first-hand just how vulnerable children and young people were, so why would you want to take the risk of getting your heart ripped out?

As the other girls lived nearby, they walked to their houses. Both girls were home and both confirmed the Lawrences' story – Emilia had received a text from her brother and had left them in town to go to a party. No, they hadn't known where the party was, but Emilia appeared to. They hadn't wanted to go as they'd met a couple of boys they knew and had promised to go onto a club with them. They didn't know who else was going to be at the party apart from Eddie. Humphrey let it go; they clearly didn't know anything of particular use.

Camille was quiet as they got back to the jeep. Recognising that she was in a contemplative mood, he left her to it, concentrating on the scenery instead. His knee was bothering him to some degree, but as long as he kept as much weight off it as possible he felt he could cope.

"He was a bit quiet," she said, eventually. "For someone who'd just lost his child…"

"He's a retired diplomat," he pointed out. "And old-style British. They don't show their emotions, but he certainly felt it…" He paused, thinking it over. "What did strike me as odd was their reaction to their son. I mean, they might be trying to protect him, but you'd think they'd be more upset with him than they seemed to be. After all, if he hadn't brought those drugs in the first place…"

"Yes…" she said, slowly. "That was odd. They seemed to be making excuses for him. That comment about how he was twenty so they couldn't stop him from 'partying hard'…"

"Sounds to me as if he's a little indulged, wouldn't you say? But, even so…his own sister…"

"Mmm," she agreed, "- and that's the other thing. How did she get hold of them? I mean, it looks as if she stole them from his pocket – but why? That's a bit odd, isn't it? If she's as anti-drugs as they suggest, why would she do it anyway – and why now? And why steal the drugs from him, why not just take them with him if she wanted to experiment?"

"Perhaps she didn't have the confidence to try to buy them by herself. Possibly she didn't have any money on her."

"Mmm, but why take them for the very first time that way?" She frowned as she drove smoothly up through the winding hill road. "I mean, I've never touched them and never wanted to, but if I was going to try, I'd probably want someone with me… Maybe the question we should be asking is…did she intend to take them? Isn't it more likely that she stole them from his pocket simply to stop him from taking them?"

"Good point." He pulled out his phone and dialled the station. "Hi, Fidel. Can you remind me exactly how Emilia Lawrence's body was found? You wrote the report, didn't you?"

He put his phone on loudspeaker, so she could hear Fidel's reply. "Yes, boss. Trouble is, she was moved almost immediately, as they called an ambulance, so I had to get the details from various witnesses…" He paused, and they could hear the keyboard clicking as he pulled up his report; meticulous as always, he didn't want to rely on his own memory of it.

"She was found on the floor in a corner of the lounge, in a prone position. She was partly hidden behind a sofa, which might be why she wasn't noticed sooner. She was dressed in a denim mini-skirt, a cut-off short-sleeved t-shirt and sandals. Her clothes didn't appear to have been interfered with. When the ambulance arrived, they moved her t-shirt up while attempting to resuscitate her; at the hospital, it was cut away." He paused. "She had blood around her nose and mouth and her eyes were open but dilated. She was unresponsive and the paramedics reported that she was already clinically dead when they reached her. The hospital pathologist estimated the time of death as between 7 and 8AM."

Humphrey hissed out a sharp breath. "When was the last reported sighting of her?"

Fidel paused, and they could visualise him sifting through his notes from his interviews with various party-goers. "The last definite sighting was at around 2.30AM, shortly after she arrived. Her brother introduced her to a friend of his – Benny Haines. They hadn't met before – I think Benny and Eddie know each other from other parties. Benny said she seemed a bit tense – he thought she might be annoyed with Eddie for dragging her along. Eddie joked about Benny keeping her occupied so he could go and 'check something out', Emilia glared at him and stormed off, and Benny didn't see her again. But there's another report from an American girl called Charisse Williams, who seemed a bit more lucid than the rest. She was standing outside having a smoke when she heard shouting through the window. A massive argument, she thought. She looked through the window and saw a girl matching Emilia's description having a stand-up shouting match with a man. She couldn't really see him as he had his back to her, but she could say for certain that he was tall, White and fair-haired. She didn't see any more – she was finding the noise annoying, so she moved away. She thinks that that was around 6.30 or 7, but she couldn't be certain."

"So that's quite sometime later. 4 hours hanging around at a party she wasn't really enjoying… OK, thanks Fidel. One last thing…how did the hospital staff identify that she had taken that specific drug? Did they find traces on her?"

"They found some crumbled ash from a cigarette or joint in her fingers and just inside her mouth, which we sent off for analysis, but to be honest, boss, I think it's more that they recognised the same symptoms."

"OK. Any news from Guadeloupe yet?"

Fidel's silence was telling. "I'll ring again and push them."

"Thanks, Fidel." As he disconnected the call, Humphrey growled, "We have really got to get our own forensics department. It's crazy working like this."

"Who knows, perhaps if you solve this one quickly, Sir Selwyn might consider it," Camille suggested. They had cleared the twisty hill road and were speeding through the open countryside. He couldn't recognise the route, but Camille obviously knew her way back to the village.

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "And that's another thing. How can a police department operate when you've got one person who controls how much money you have and how you spend it? Don't get me wrong – I know he's the Commissioner of Police, but how am I supposed run a service when I have to toady up to that man all the time?"

She was silent for a moment. "He's not so bad."

He laughed incredulously. "Two days ago, I was at a party, feeling extremely uncomfortable but unable to leave because I was worried he wouldn't continue to fund two DS posts."

"And senior officers didn't do the same thing in London?" Her voice was terse. "Are you telling me that you didn't have to go to social events that you didn't enjoy just to creep to someone more senior?"

"Well…" He hadn't that was true, but the Chief Super had always been moaning about that kind of thing.

"Sir Selwyn wouldn't do that, anyway," she pointed out. "He's a sensible man and he'd look at the facts. If you can convince him that you need more money for another department, he would find it."

He eyed her curiously; she seemed a little irritated by the turn in conversation. "How well do you know him?"

She shrugged. "Not all that well. I mean, he comes to the bar occasionally, and he's always courteous to my mother."

"And his wife?"

"Less well. She doesn't really come into town these days, and she's often abroad. They say she spends more time with her sons, in London and Miami, than she does in Sainte-Marie."

"Do the sons ever visit the island?"

She laughed. "I have no idea! Why the sudden interest?"

"Because…" He frowned, suddenly not sure. "Because it seems to me that there's so much about mothers and sons in this case. Mrs Lawrence and Eddie. The woman who drugged me and her sons. The first Mrs Lawrence's two sons and Sir Selwyn's two sons – four boys who grew up together and have left the island, apparently never to return. Maybe, I'm just thinking…oh, I don't know. There's something I'm not seeing here, but…Camille, has it occurred to you that Emilia Lawrence might not have overdosed on that drug? That she might actually have been murdered?"