Chapter 5
A/N: So it is actually called the Department of Professional Standards (DPS) not the Professional Standards Unit (PSU). The acronym PSU actually stands for Police Support Unit. Never mind, perhaps in the DiP unit it is the Professional Standards Unit. It doesn't help that I keep wanting to call it PFU, which means plaque forming unit and is a molecular biology term.
The team were at the station well before the 14:00 deadline – well, not the whole team, obviously Richard was absent. Still ensconced in whatever hotel he had chosen patiently awaiting his fate. Initially, Fidel made a brave attempt at conversation. He talked about how certain he was it would all be cleared up quickly, how it must be some horrible mistake and it was really not very nice to treat the Inspector this way and how he was sure the professional standards officers were all, well, very professional. And efficient. And good at their job. So would thus naturally come to the correct conclusion – one in which no blame lay on the Inspector.
Camille put up with this for a whole 15 minutes, which she felt was showing remarkable tolerance, before her temper got the better of her, "Fidel, these are the police that put other police officers away for a living. And everybody knows to catch a bent copper sometimes you don't always do things by the book!" She snapped. Camille knew if she looked she'd see the hurt on his features, and probably a reproving look sent in her direction by Dwayne, but instead she stared resolutely at Richard's empty desk and continued her tirade. "And let's face it, perhaps we shouldn't be so confident he is innocent. He did go out of his way to hide the woman's very existence from us."
The silence that followed was a pretty big indication they hadn't expected that. In truth, Camille hadn't expected it when she opened her mouth. She instantly regretted the words – felt unbearably guilty that some part of her had actually suspected Richard might not be entirely innocent. What was wrong with her? She put her head down on the desk, covering herself with her arms, and wished very hard that this would turn out to be a bad dream. The pressure of a hand on her shoulder after a few moments caused her to raise her head to see Dwayne, offering a mug of coffee. "I didn't mean…" she began, but Dwayne held up a hand.
"Course you didn't, Sarge." She turned to Fidel who just nodded, acknowledging her silent apology.
It was 13:50. Ten minutes to go.
Of course, they were late. Nothing on this island ever ran on time. It was 14:40 by the time a small commotion reached their ears, alerting them to the arrival of a group now ascending the stairs to the station. "Are you sure you don't want me to take that from you, ma'am?" An unfamiliar voice was asking. One with an accent that sounded like it belonged on wireless in the 1930s. Camille had sometimes thought Richard's accent could err on the posh side sometimes, no doubt he was taught to speak properly at whatever boarding school he was sent to, but this guy's was unreal. It wouldn't have surprised Camille if he had walked in wearing tweeds with a shot gun over his arm.
"I am quite able to carry my own case Saunders," came the curt reply. No BBC accent here - instead traces of something Camille couldn't quite put her finger on.
And then the familiar voice of the Commissioner, "Please, make your way into the station."
The posh man, whoever he was, did not wear tweeds – just a standard, if rather rumpled, suit and tie. Though it was obvious the young man felt the heat, with his face nearly as red as his rather sweaty hair, he made no move to remove the jacket or loosen the tie. Perhaps Richard's behaviour was not anomalous, and actually any Met officer dumped on Saint Marie would stubbornly wear suits in the heat. Camille pushed the thought aside – it was not an experiment she was going to ever be able to perform. And she preferred the Met officer she had – and would rather the additional ones that had arrived were elsewhere.
Nobody looks particularly good after an 8 hour flight, and when Cherry Huang followed in the unknown officer Camille noted with some satisfaction that this was the case for her as well. Of course, it was obvious she was still a beautiful woman, and the unprepared Dwayne and Fidel both did double takes. But she still looked tired, harassed and badly in need of an opportunity to freshen up. She hid her smugness once she realised that the soon-to-be Detective Superintendent Huang was rapidly assessing them all.
The Commissioner cleared his throat, "DCI Huang, DS Saunders, I would like to introduce you to DS Camille Bordey, Seargent Best and Officer Myers." There then followed the obligatory shaking of hands. Then, with no hesitation, DCI Huang crossed the station to Richard's desk where she unburdened herself of her laptop bag, beginning to unpack and set up its contents. The Commissioner, if he disapproved, did not say anything. "I will leave you to it. I am sure the team will offer their full co-operation on the matter. Please keep me informed on progress."
At that final statement, Huang did pause long enough to look up and give the Commissioner a nod and a, "Of course, Sir. Thank you for the lift from the airport. We'll be out of your way as soon as possible."
"It is good of you to fly out here on such short notice," Dwayne said politely, though with the sort of smile that indicated he might also be trying his luck. Huang resolutely ignored him, and he and Fidel shared a significant look that confused Camille for a moment until she remembered the tales of woe they had shared with her concerning DS Angela Young. A woman who had, apparently, made the Inspector seem positively charming and whose manner had started out in a similar way to Huang.
Saunders, meanwhile, had pulled a rather flash looking tablet out of his computer. "What is the wifi password?" He asked the room in general.
Camille closed her eyes and held in the scream. Fidel was the one who eventually answered, "We don't have wireless internet, Sir, however you can use my terminal if you like."
Saunders glanced at the computer – he was a man whose thoughts clearly showed on his face, not a good habit for a police officer, and the look of mild surprise meant Camille knew what he was going to say before he said it. "Good Lord! Does that thing use a cathode ray tube based monitor? I thought those were still used in the 3rd world." Across the room, Camille heard DCI Huang give a small sigh. One, she thought, which was probably a combination of disbelief and disapproval, though nothing showed on her face. Saunders carried on oblivious, "Don't worry, uh, Best wasn't it? We have mi-fi assigned to us. Useful little devices, do your team use them?"
"No," Camille said quickly and firmly. She wasn't even entirely sure what a mi-fi was, but was in no mood to find out, so had spoken quickly before Fidel could ask for more details. What she wanted was for them to be getting on with the investigation, not wasting time discussing computer accessories.
"I require the log of evidence that has been transferred to London for processing," DCI Huang said suddenly.
Fidel rose to give it to her, but Saunders spotted the action and swiftly grabbed it from the young man's hand and strode across the room to present it to Huang. "Thank you," she said absently before carefully examining each record against some sort of log on her computer.
Camille felt a rush of annoyance. "Fidel is very through, ma'am," she told her. "You can trust it is all there."
Huang didn't look up from her task. "You'll have to forgive me, DS Bordey, trust is a habit I have rather grown out of." Camille, who wasn't really sure what that was supposed to mean, just slowly lowered herself into the chair at her own desk. She knew showing her anger was hardly going to help Richard, she would have to try to keep a lid on her 'volatile French temperament' as he was warrant to call it during their more bitter arguments. She usually responded with a few choice adjectives to describe his manner.
"Ma'am!" Saunders called out excitedly. "The forensic lab is already working on the letter. They have emailed through a scan."
He held out the tablet to her, and she gave it a cursory glance. "Good," she said. "Have them send the scan to the translation team."
This instruction seemed to puzzle Saunders, "But ma'am, don't you want to read it? You are fluent…"
"I know what languages I can speak, Saunders," Huang said cutting him off. "And that is English, German and Mandarin. The victim's last name is a very common Cantonese surname. We should not assume what language or dialect this is written in, though hopefully Inspector Poole will be able to provide more information on that front."
"But ma'am," Saunders began again, though this time with some hesitancy. "Translation takes some time and I thought that though the two languages are different the written form is the same."
"When did you look that up?" Her voice was flat, her gaze steady.
Saunders shifted and said evasively, "I thought the information could be pertinent to this case." That told Camille that he had known it before for some reason, and didn't want to admit it. This was certainly proving to be an interesting exchange to observe, the two were acting like nobody else was there.
"Well did you also read about how a literal translation of text written in Cantonese into Mandarin will contain unnatural grammar, idioms and other issues because of the differences between the two languages?"
"Yes, I did ma'am, but I thought we might be able to get the jist of it…"
"The jist of it?" Huang snapped then, her annoyance at Saunders persistence overwhelming her control of her temper. "Detective Sergeant a young woman is dead and we are investigating because she was found on the property of a British police officer. His colleagues over there are relying on us to conduct a thorough and professional investigation in order to get to the truth of the matter. Do you really think it is appropriate for us to proceed with a translation that gives us 'the jist of it'?"
"No, ma'am, it wouldn't be appropriate," Saunders said immediately, knowing he was beaten. Amazingly, he radiated no resentment at the dressing down. He seemed…grateful, as if Cherry Huang had just showed him the error of his ways and made him a better police officer. It was sort of creepy, his desperation to impress her and please her.
"I understand it was agreed the autopsy would be performed in Basse Terre as usual," Cherry said, turning back to the three members of the Saint Marie Police Force.
"That's correct ma'am. It is scheduled as the first of the day tomorrow morning."
"Saunders, kindly take the luggage to the hotel and check us both in. Then arrange transport to Basse Terre for the autopsy."
Saunders looked extremely displeased by these instructions. He schooled his features into something a tad more respectful and suggested, "Perhaps Officer Myers would know of a vehicle we could use to get there?"
"Basse Terre is on Guadeloupe, an entirely different island," Huang said with another disappointed sigh. "Unless the Saint Marie Police Force keep a hovercraft or other single vehicle capable of both land and sea travel, I believe multiple forms of transport may be required." Camille very nearly smiled. In fact, she realised with a small jolt, she would have if Richard had made that same snarky comment.
"I can offer you a ferry timetable," Dwayne said sweetly, holding out a rather crumpled copy Camille suspected may be a few months out of date. She raised a single eyebrow and he conceded, reaching into his desk and retrieving the latest version. Camille appreciate Dwayne might want to teach the DS a lesson, but they had to resist for the sake of the Inspector.
"There you are. Off you go Saunders!" And with that the young man was dismissed.
Now he was gone, DCI Huang turned and addressed them all. "I appreciate you all coming in on a Sunday, I was unaware the Commissioner was going to request that as it will take me time to go get up to speed and I thus have no assignments for you at this time. Naturally you still have other police work to get on with and this is what I imagine you will be doing through most of the investigation." Huang must have caught the change in Camille's body language, the indication that she was about to object strongly, because she hastened to add, "Though for interviews and such one of you will always be present." This was enough to calm Camille for the moment.
"Professional Standards are involved in two broad categories of cases," she said, launching into what sounded like a well-rehearsed speech. "There are those cases where we have evidence that police officers may be involved in crime, bent in the common parlance, and so we launch an investigation. Then there are cases where we are asked to investigate, because a police officer has found themselves closely connected to a case and it may not be appropriate for them or their colleagues to investigate it without independent observation. We are, of course, dealing with the latter here. But both cases have something in common: there is no presumption of guilt. Officers sometimes say what we do in Professional Standards isn't 'proper police work' but they are wrong, it is, we are detectives pure and simple. The benefit of us being involved in situations such as this is that when somebody is cleared, there is public confidence because that clearance was made by people externally. That is simply a fact of life that none of us can change. So I hope you will see our presence here not as an intrusion on your territory, but instead simply as another force offering their assistance."
It was a very pretty speech, and Fidel for one seemed utterly relieved. Camille and Dwayne, perhaps due to past experience, were not as easily swayed – not that they would say that out loud. Instead they each acknowledged DCI Huang with a 'yes ma'am'. "Right, well Myers and Best you may go back to whatever it was you had planned to do with your Sunday. Detective Sergeant Bordey I'd appreciate a moment to talk to you in more depth."
With a single look, Dwayne conveyed he was willing to stay and pretend he had work to do if she desired. Camille gave a small shake of her head, she could handle it. He and Fidel then left. DCI Huang came over and perched on Camille's desk in a way she considered a little too familiar. It was probably something DCI Huang had picked up from a management course.
"It seems appropriate to me that you are present at most of the interviews when your duties allow it," Huang said. "Do you wish to come to the autopsy tomorrow? I imagine you don't often get the opportunity with the set up here but I could use a second pair of eyes during the observation."
"Are you not bringing DS Saunders, ma'am?"
The Detective Chief Inspector drew in a breath, holding it for a moment whilst she considered her response. She eventually let it out slowly and gave a small nod, "Yes, however DS Saunders has not witnessed too many autopsies. It isn't terribly uncommon for officers to throw up at their first, but according to his file he continued to do so until he was no longer assigned to do them anymore. I thus don't expect him to be observing for long."
"Well," Camille said, feeling a little sorry for Saunders. "It shows great commitment that he is willing to go tomorrow anyway. He could have made an excuse."
"Admitting weaknesses can sometimes be a greater show of character than struggling on," Huang responded. More management speak, Camille concluded, except the DCI seemed to genuinely believe this one.
"He seems very dedicated to you," Camille said before realising how it sounded. DCI Huang grimaced, unhappy with the simpering behaviour of her officer and the fact that Camille had picked up on it. "I imagine your team will miss you when you leave."
That caught her attention. "Leave?" She asked, prompting for more clarification.
"To take up your post in the Leicestershire police service," Camille supplied. She was starting to wonder if letting it slip that she had been doing her research was an entirely good idea.
"You looked me up." A statement rather than a question, so Camille didn't bother to answer. Huang regarded her silently for a moment, before flashing a very brief smile. "Good, one thing I can never understand is turning up to interview an officer and finding he or she hasn't bothered to find out anything out about myself or my team. It reeks of incompetence – you've researched me and I have reviewed your file. We know where we stand."
Genuine pleasure wasn't the response Camille had been expecting. She felt like she had passed a test – perhaps Huang had formed a picture of her from the notes in her file and she had just confirmed her that assessment as correct. This thought made Camille uncomfortable – the idea that she could be so predictable.
"I think DS Saunders is hoping I will take him with me," Huang was saying now. Here was a woman who was not proving to be predictable – such information was clearly being told to her in confidence. She found herself analysing the act – was this an attempt to gain her trust and make her more co-operative? Another clever management technique? Or could she be being paranoid, and DCI Huang simply lacked fellow female police officers to confide in?
"To Leicester?" She asked for confirmation, and to buy herself more time to think of how to deal with the unexpected change in topic. "A promotion to Detective Inspector, to fill the vacancy?" Cherry nodded. Perhaps she wanted Camille to ask her directly what she planned to do, but instead she opted for, "Well the newspaper reports stated it was believed you would be involved in the recruitment process, so it is not unreasonable for him to think it a possibility."
"I suppose. But he will not be filling that position." Camille said nothing, and perhaps Huang took her silence as disapproval because she continued slightly defensively, "He is not a bad officer, but he has a lot to learn and in my new role I won't be able to hold his hand. And it would be horrendous of me to fill those vacancies with more Professional Standards officers – can you imagine what that would do to the morale of a team that has already taken such a major blow? Some of the current Detective Sergeants in that team seem eminently suitable for promotion."
Camille was forced to admit to herself that no matter what she thought of Huang's leadership style, that decision was good management. She still wasn't sure if this attempt at intimacy was genuine or manipulation, but she didn't seem to harm in telling her, "I think that is a good idea."
An awkward silence followed, that actually pushed Camille towards concluding this conversation was genuine. "Well, Detective Sergeant, will I see you tomorrow morning? I need to tell Saunders, you see."
Camille knew not attending would mean a morning of trying to distract herself unsuccessfully at work whilst she waited for the Professional Standards detectives to return and for somebody to finally get around to interviewing Richard. So she might as well say yes.
"Right then, I think I will stay here to work for the moment. Are you..?"
"I'll leave you in peace, ma'am." Camille didn't trust herself to stay even though she would very much like to observe the officer at work. But she did have to ask one thing before she went, "Do you think we will be interviewing Detective Inspector Poole tomorrow?"
Huang was back to being engrossed in her paperwork and so didn't look up, "Barring any unforeseen circumstances." Camille nodded an acknowledgement the DCI couldn't see and made to leave. At the door she was stopped momentarily by Huang calling, "And you can tell him that, if you like. He, uh, he knows it is me that is here? I mean was he told my name, as I said I feel it fair to let people do their research." A clever cover for what she really wanted to know.
"Yes, ma'am, The Commissioner did mention you by name. Though not your colleague."
Because it was evident that Huang wanted to ask more, Camille paused in order to allow it. "He didn't seem…objectionable to the idea? You think he will be co-operative?"
"Yes, ma'am, Richard Poole will be co-operative. He's a professional."
DCI Huang nodded like she already knew it.
Because of course, she did.
