Death in Paradise: That Day (Chapter 2)
These were the scenes I felt were missing from the episode. I had a huge convoluted scene with Fidel taking charge and Dwayne getting Camille away from the site but it felt better to just do her perspective leading to and from that scene at the villa to when we see them in the next couple of shots at the station.
She felt sick, lightheaded, like she was running on auto-pilot. The boys were saying things, rushing to get the kits, to run to the Defender, they were gently suggesting she stayed at the station – but she had to go. The call. That call.
"It's a call from the villa – there's been a … an incident. It's Richard"
She couldn't fight down the nausea – Fidel had stumbled over the words when the call came in. It couldn't be. Not him. NOT HIM.
As they walked through the villa – she vaguely took in the guests, dully noting to herself that she should be observing everything – the blond woman sobbing hysterically in the corner, saying his name over and over – like she had ANY right to. The other woman looking shocked as she pointed to the balcony, the two men.
She could see his shape in the lounger – he was still. So ominously still. How many times had she done this as a policewoman – offered words of consolation to witnesses or the bereaved? Firmly but gently keeping them away from the distressing scenes.
The three of them walked out wordlessly. That walk around the side of the lounger – her feet felt like lead, and there he was – looking like he was dozing but for an icepick in his chest, and the blood. He was so still.
She rushed to hold him, the sobs starting but Dwayne held her back, gently mind, but held her – she couldn't touch him? Of course she couldn't – they couldn't contaminate the scene.
Just hours ago she had lain with her head on his chest, her hand stroking over his heart. Her legs gave way and she collapsed sobbing as Dwayne rested a supporting arm on her shoulder.
Catherine sat in the kitchen, contemplating the last two or three days. She felt drawn and tired – the outpouring of grief that first day had been almost too much for her to bear. It had subsided of course – exhaustion had seen to that.
And now? She watched her daughter drifting aimlessly around the kitchen, absently preparing a coffee before heading to the station. Catherine could scarcely believe it.
She had argued, even pleaded with her daughter to let the Commissioner deal with everything. Anything to spare her having to relive it all over again. But there was never any stopping Camille.
She hugged her as she went to leave. Everything was mechanical at the moment. Like she was going through the motions of life. God knows, would she ever see closure?
Camille knew she would be better off at home but it was driving her crazy. They had treated the beach shack as a secondary crime scene and carefully removed all his things, and some of her own belongings from when she had stayed with him. She had things of his at hers too. She sadly wondered whether her place too ought to be treated the same. She couldn't bear to open the bag she'd brought back from the shack that day with some of his clothes for the following morning, which would now never come.
She remembered how she'd felt watching Aimee die in front of her but how she felt compelled to do something useful in that whole sad mess. She opened the closet, trying not to look at the red dress that had first caught his eye, and pulled out a black top and a pair of shorts. She slipped out the door and walked slowly to the station, avoiding the curious gaze of stallholders – lost in her thoughts.
Fidel was trying to keep the panic out of his voice – but the young sergeant was rapidly trying to explain to the Commissioner that Camille was in the office, starting to set up the board, collating forensics. Paterson sighed and got in his car to head over to the station.
"– I can promise I will make it up to you" – there were almost her last words to him that morning, that damned day. "I will make it up to you" she thought as she put down the phone to Richard's parents. His mother was often too distraught to stay on the phone to her. His father was trying to just fathom why – well wasn't everyone? It just broke her heart each time they spoke when she couldn't give them, give herself a reason why. She tried to focus on the prisoner release files for the umpteenth time.
Paterson walked in, not looking forward to what he had to say. She was there looking drawn but oddly in control. He weighed up admonishing her for coming in, it had just been a few of days after all, but instead he gently squeezed her arm in support, as he had done a year or so ago when her best friend had been murdered in front of her.
He watched her – she was just holding herself together, he could see but he needed someone who knew Richard and knew him well to at least get the new man up to speed.
As flatly as he could, he informed them that their new DI had arrived – bracing himself for the looks of utter disbelief as the shambling man shuffled up the station steps.
And with a sense of heavy inevitability he watched as his DS, his protégé looked at the replacement with disdain, then flashed a look of hurt and anger in Paterson's direction, and then turned without a word and walked back into the station.
Notes: I just felt there were a couple (at least) of scenes missing – some kind of interaction with either Camille or the team and the gap between Richard dying and the new guy arriving – I got the feeling it was a couple of days at least had passed, maybe a couple even more then that.