I am SO sorry, guys! First of all I came down with some horrible bug, and then my daughter got a nasty cold, and now I've got the same thing...and all with Christmas coming up... I hate this time of year! Oh, I wish I was on Sainte-Marie drinking a cold beer at Catherine's bar right now...
Chapter 20
As they watched, the figure's shape blended with the dark outline of the bungalow. He or she was obviously inside the building; Josh hadn't had time to lock the sliding doors leading into the lounge before making his escape out of the bedroom at the back.
"Did you leave anything behind?" It was a silly thing for Humphrey to say, but Josh understood his meaning and shook his head.
"All in here." He tapped his duffel bag. "Photocopies of everything, and I also have the documents saved on my IPAD. There are copies on a hard drive in my brother's safe, just in case."
Humphrey took a few deep breaths; he was a little out of breath from the dash through the woods. He was by no means unfit, but it had been a struggle with his stiff leg. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Camille shushed him. "Look – he's coming out again."
The black-clad figure emerged onto the balcony and came towards the rail on their side, peering intently across the water. They backed up a little, getting behind the bank of scrub that lined the shore. Suddenly, a flare of light from a powerful torch was played across the bank.
Camille and Josh immediately flung themselves to the ground behind the scrub. Humphrey followed a little more slowly, but thankfully managed to get under cover just as the light played across their location. As he lay on his stomach, an agonisingly sharp pain shot up his injured leg. He covered his mouth with an arm and breathed deeply through his nose, trying to control the rush of nausea that followed close behind.
The strong beam swept agonisingly slowly across the woods from one side to the other three times before disappearing altogether as the figure turned towards the opposite bank. He breathed a sigh of relief but stayed down, pressing his cheek into the dust. The nausea was starting to recede, but he felt too shaky to move immediately.
After a few moments, Camille raised her head a few centimetres before getting up onto her hands and knees to crawl a little closer to the shore. She stood up cautiously and peered at the bungalow before motioning with her hand. Josh and Humphrey also stood and crept over to her.
The figure had got back in the boat and was rowing it across a corner of the lake, away from them.
"He's heading for that pier." Camille whispered, watching intently. "Quick, lend me your jacket."
"Why on earth?" Humphrey was struggling out of his jacket even as he spoke.
She grabbed it off him without taking her eyes off the rower and put it on, pulling it right around her body. It was almost long enough to cover her bright dress. She quickly removed the car keys from her handbag and held them out towards him without taking her eyes off the figure.
"Here – take the keys and get back to the jeep. I'll meet you there as soon as I can, but if you're worried about Josh's safety, go on ahead."
"Where are you going?"
"To follow him." She began to move towards the shore line, but he grabbed her arm.
"You can't – he's armed and probably not afraid to shoot!"
She pulled her arm out of his grasp. "I'm not going to confront him – just trail him as far as I can and see if I can get a better look - ."
"Not a chance!" He dodged in front of her, whispering urgently. "That's an order, Camille. It's incredibly dangerous, if anyone should go, it ought to be me -."
"What, with your injured knee? Come on – we're wasting time!" She glanced towards the figure on the opposite bank. He tied the boat up and then jumped out, hurrying down the wooden pier to the shore.
"Look, you were the one who wanted to call back-up earlier -."
"Stop it, Humphrey!" she hissed, angrily, pushing him away. "I know what I'm doing. Trust me."
She darted out of his reach and began to run lightly through the woods, keeping just behind the scrub on the shore line.
"Dammit, Camille!" he whispered furiously, but she was already gone. In his dark jacket, she was harder to see and was making hardly any sound at all, moving fluidly over the rough ground even in her high-heeled sandals. Humphrey strained his eyes watching her as far as the bungalow before she darted around the shore side of it and disappeared from sight. He looked back at the figure on the other side, just in time to see it disappearing into the trees. He swallowed against a second rush of nausea.
"She seems to know what she's doing," Josh said, quietly, as he watched Camille disappear. "Ex-Secret Service, is she?"
"Something like that." He had to force the words out, almost too angry to speak for a minute, and took a deep calming breath. How dare she ignore a direct order! It was utterly foolhardy to rush after an armed and possibly dangerous man, it went against all their training, and she just... "Come on, we'd better get back to the jeep."
After a last look at the shoreline, he led Josh back towards the bungalow. Since the person had definitely left, it seemed sensible for Josh to at least lock it up and make sure all was secure, so they crept back along the walkway and onto the balcony.
Josh's face was blank when he turned the light on and observed the mess. Books and papers lay strewn across the floor and the desk drawers had been pulled out and emptied. In the short time that he had been in the bungalow, the intruder had certainly done a thorough job of ransacking the place.
"There's nothing related to the case here – it'll be Julian's stuff. I'll sort it out when I'm back." He switched the light off again, shut the door and locked it. "So…where's your car parked?"
Humphrey had been considering which way would be best to go; he had a basic idea of where the jeep was, but wasn't entirely sure of the route from here, and he didn't want to lead Josh right to the gunman. His plan had been to walk back to the hotel and work out a route from there, but when he explained where they had parked the jeep, Josh took the lead. He confidently led them along small dark paths zigzagging through the resort until they emerged on the road close to the main gates. The jeep was parked nearby.
As they got in, Humphrey debated whether to call back-up. It was procedure for any suspect carrying a weapon but, on the other hand, he didn't want to risk Camille's safety. Even as he was agonising over his next move, one of the car's back doors opened suddenly.
It was Camille, panting with exertion and a little dishevelled.
"I cut back through the scrub to catch up with you," she explained as she got her breath back. "He caught me out – headed towards the hotel and I really thought he was going to go in, but then he skirted around the side, through the woods. He had a little speedboat, around the corner from the main bay. Headed off in the general direction of Honore… Do you want me to drive?" she added after a pause.
"I can manage, thank you," Humphrey replied stiffly, and turned on the engine. The car was a manual and it would have far more sensible to have given up the driver's seat to Camille, but he was still furious with her for ignoring his orders. He crashed the gears a couple of times but, gritting his teeth against the pain, managed to drive them back to the beach house without any major incidents.
They were silent during the journey. Josh was fiddling with his smartphone and Camille was very quiet in the back, possibly sensing her boss's anger with her. Humphrey pulled up and jerked back the handbrake with a greater-than-necessary force.
"OK, here we are. Home sweet home…for the duration," he added, drily.
Josh gave the beach house an interested look as he got out of the car. Looking at it again through a newcomer's eyes, Humphrey had a better understanding of why Richard had been so appalled when he'd first arrived (according to his diary). With the tree growing right through the building, it didn't look strong enough to withhold the tropical storms that occasionally battered the coast here. He couldn't help wondering why Poole hadn't just insisted on being housed in an air-conditioned hotel until more comfortable permanent accommodation had been found for him. When Humphrey had arrived, he'd been too jet-lagged and too busy being plunged into the mystery surrounding Richard's death to pay much attention. Later on he'd been charmed by the place, especially its stunning views of the perfectly crescent-shaped bay. He had a feeling that his temporary house guest would also appreciate the unusual building's qualities.
In any case, Josh dumped his bag on the floor of the terrace and sank into one of the chairs with the casual air of a man who didn't much care where he was accommodated, as long as there was a cold beer involved. As Humphrey went into the kitchen to locate some, Camille followed him in.
"So… Would you mind telling me what that was about?" she asked quietly, propping her hip against a cupboard and folding her arms.
"What what was about?" he responded, not looking at her as he rifled in the fridge.
The silence was poignant. "You know what I mean," she said, eventually, and the quiet anger in her voice riled him.
"Camille!" He dropped the beers in the sink and turned to her, unconsciously mirroring her pose. "You ignored a direct order by following an armed suspect, which was an incredibly dangerous thing to do -."
She snorted at that. "Dangerous? To you, maybe. You think I haven't dealt with worse than that in my time?" She shook her head furiously, corkscrew curls falling from her elaborate hair-do, which had taken the brunt of her urgent dash through the scrub.
"That's not the point! I'm still your superior officer and you should do as I say -."
"Not when your judgement is impaired," she snapped. "I am your DS, it is my job to challenge you when you are wrong. And this time you were wrong to try to stop me."
He stared at her in complete disbelief before laughing. "Oh, that's just typical of you, Camille. Do whatever you want, don't listen to 'stupid Humphrey' who doesn't know any better… Well, I'll tell you something – you wouldn't look so clever if I had you up on an official warning for ignoring the orders of your direct superior, would you now?"
"You'd never do it," she replied, suddenly calm in the face of his anger.
"Oh, wouldn't I? Just try me – go on!" He leaned his face close to hers. "Try my patience just a bit too much, and see what happens."
She shook her head, confidently. "That would be petty and vindictive of you -."
"It has nothing to do with vindictiveness!" He realised that his voice had risen in agitation and tried to calm himself, stepping back a little. He was feeling utterly shattered, as if the adrenaline that had carried him thus far had suddenly evaporated into nothing. "Look, of course I'm not going to report you, but you have to see my point of view. I don't want to be heavy-handed, but I have to think of the safety of my officers. I was worried for you. I didn't get to DI level without knowing how to assess exactly when the risk is justified, and when it's better to wait for backup -."
"Really? Then why didn't you stop me chasing after that armed robber down at the harbour two weeks after we met? Remember that? You knew there was a risk to the public and you knew I could handle it because you'd read my file." Her face softened. "There was no risk to me tonight - no more than normal. I'm not an ordinary Sergeant, Humphrey, you know that. Don't forget how many years of undercover work I have behind me. I know how to follow a suspect without being caught. You have to trust me in those situations…you used to trust me. You can't start treating me differently because -."
She broke off suddenly and peered at his face in concern. "Actually, you look – well, you look quite awful."
"Well, thanks a lot for that." His thoughts were whirling – what did she mean about him treating her differently?
"No, I mean -." She laid her fingers on his forehead and he flinched away from their coldness. "Humphrey, you're burning up! How do you feel?"
His head was throbbing and his face was alternately burning and icy. The shooting pains in his leg were making him feel quite nauseous. "I… I just need to sit down."
"Here -," she took his hand and led him out onto the terrace, pushing him down into a chair; he went obediently. On a second trip, she brought a beer bottle to Josh, who was rifling through his notes at the table, but for Humphrey she brought a jug of water and a glass instead.
"You've obviously got a temperature," she scolded as she poured him a glass. "Did the doctor give you any medication?"
"Um – antibiotics and some antipyretics," he admitted, sheepishly. He was supposed to take an antibiotic every eight hours, but he'd forgotten about them since this morning.
Under his direction, she located the paper bag containing his drugs from the hospital and brought it over to him, angrily. "No wonder you are ill if you are not taking them! I suspect you have an infection in that knee."
"You could be right." He swallowed the pills and leaned back in his chair, fanning his face a little ineffectually. It was a humid night with very little of the usual refreshing breeze that cooled his house in the evenings. At least he was out of his thick jacket – Camille had still been wearing it and had hung it up the moment they had returned.
She had returned with a cold cloth, which she handed to him to mop his face. "Frankly, Humphrey, it amazes me that you've survived up to now. Maman would be horrified. If she were here now, she would be sending you to bed and feeding you up with chicken soup."
"Lucky she isn't, then," he muttered, although going to bed to sleep it off sounded like a brilliant idea – probably for about three days. To take his mind off his problems, he looked over at his unexpected guest.
"Um, Josh, were you planning on visiting your father, after what's happened to Emilia?"
Josh had given up going through his files and was staring dejectedly at the sea. At Humphrey's question, he winced openly. "Do you really think that's a good idea? He's hardly going to want to see me at the moment, having just lost his daughter. And if he suspects I had anything to do with it…"
"I agree," Humphrey said, quickly. "I was going to say the same – best if you lie low until we've had a chance to investigate." He glanced at Camille, who was leaning against the railing observing them both. "We need to get into the Lawrences' house again, first thing tomorrow. We've got to find out what Emilia discovered."
She looked quizzical. "Do we conduct a full search?"
"Yes, we'll get a search permit from the Commissioner – I don't care if Lawrence is a friend of his. There's definitely something fishy going on – why would Emilia be so upset about something that happened years before she was born? This is not just about whether he did or didn't knowingly invest in something dodgy – there's more to it than that. She sounded worried on the phone… And let's see if we can identify that boat you saw tonight. Did it have any distinguishing features? It might be at the harbour – give Dwayne the best description you can and get him to check it out."
He pulled his chair over to the table. "OK, Josh, can you talk me through your evidence?"
Josh worked his way through the documents efficiently, outlining the facts he had given them earlier with the background evidence. Humphrey, listening carefully, began to feel a little better as the drugs kicked in, reducing his temperature and the pain in his knee.
One thing that became clear was that the journalist was the perfect researcher. He seemed to have an ability to hone in on the most significant facts – the salient data on various bank statements, letters and e-mails was circled and annotated in a neat hand. On his i-Pad, he had created a detailed timeline running from the initial investigation into Master's ill-fated pyramid scheme right through to the ex-criminal's death, with dates and times given for conversations and transfers of money. He'd even noted the times that his father had been in the UK – Humphrey raised his eyes at that; did Josh suspect his own father of involvement in Master's death? Still, it was quite obvious that Jessica Law was being blackmailed by her former associate, and Humphrey made a mental note to e-mail one of his contacts at the Met in the morning to ask him to locate a copy of the man's death certificate.
After an hour or so of further discussion, Josh yawned and stood up suddenly. "I'm sorry," he said, apologetically. "I haven't been sleeping all that well lately. I think my all-nighters have been catching up with me, and I desperately need some shut-eye. You sure you don't mind me staying here?" he added, tentatively.
Humphrey shook his head as he heaved himself out of his chair. "I think it's probably a good idea for you to be out of the way for a while…as long as you don't mind sleeping on the floor. I feel terrible saying that, and almost any other night I would be happy to let you have the bed, but frankly I think the floor may kill me right now."
"There might be an airbed," Camille said, suddenly. "I would sleep on it occasionally when I stayed here with Richard - I mean after a case when it was too late to drive home, and during that storm I told you about…" she added quickly, not quite meeting Humphrey's eyes.
She disappeared around the corner of the terrace, heading for a small shed located nearby. Humphrey rarely ventured into it unless he wanted some tools. It seemed to mainly contain bits and pieces of science equipment, some of it probably relating to Richard's home-based forensic experiments, and he didn't fancy inadvertently blowing himself up. After a minute, Camille emerged with a canvas pack and a look of triumph on her face.
"Told you." She opened the canvas bag and pulled out a rolled-up mattress that automatically inflated as it opened. "Good, isn't it? I think Richard must have been a boy scout at some point. He had a real interest in this kind of equipment. Anything that saved time – you know?" She paused reflectively. "I wasn't even sure it was still here. It came from Britain, but I suppose it was overlooked when the rest of his possessions were packed up…"
Josh stood by awkwardly as she made up the bed for him in a corner of the lounge. "Thanks, Camille, that's great. Much more comfortable than some places I've slept in."
She smiled at him and stepped out onto the terrace again. Humphrey followed her out, a little concerned about her travelling home so late – irrationally so, since she'd made the journey alone on many occasions, quite often in the middle of the night. He didn't seem to be able to put his fears into words, but he knew that if Josh was not there, he'd have invited her to sleep on the airbed instead… His cheeks burned at the idea of inviting Camille to stay the night.
She turned to face him at the steps. "To return to our earlier conversation, you must not be concerned for me. I can look after myself. I am a police officer, after all, and with special security training."
"I know." He swallowed thickly. "I can't help it, though."
"And that worries me. I am still your sergeant, whatever else I might be... You cannot treat me differently. Supposing I was Dwayne or Fidel back there tonight – although perhaps that is not a good comparison… Suppose I was another female ex-secret agent, a colleague that you did not know so well…would you have reacted the same way?"
"I suppose not," he admitted. His leg was aching again and he shifted awkwardly, grasping the rail to steady himself.
She stood looking up at him silently for a minute, the breeze ruffling her hair gently. In the darkness, he couldn't quite make out her expression.
Suddenly, she moved, putting a hand over his as it lay on the railing. "We need to talk – the two of us." Her voice was warm, even a little amused. "When this is over…don't we?"
He nodded, not quite trusting his voice.
"Goodnight, Humphrey." She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek lingeringly before turning and going down the steps onto the sand.
He stood at the rail, watching her walk away through the darkness.