Chapter 6: Clues

A/N: I guess you could call this a "procedure" chapter, but we do have a murder to investigate! I mention rape and domestic abuse again, so trigger warnings.

They knew that Marie Labelle would bring her daughter to a playgroup held in the Church hall, so it seemed like a good place to try and gather some more information. Richard was pretty desperate to try and identify the next of kin as soon as possible. He'd had to investigate deaths previously where the police were forced to ring numbers in an address book or mobile phone until they hit on who they really needed. It was a dire task, you often ended up trying to extract yourself from conversations with individuals who had only really been passing acquaintances and were morbidly curious about the circumstances of the death. In all of the cases he could think of though the individuals had been elderly, often childless spinsters, not young mothers. But then Marie Labelle didn't exactly fit the mould, for one thing she didn't have a mobile – she still had an address book and landline. Perhaps she didn't like the idea of people being able to reach her 24/7, Richard had to admit on a few occasions he'd considered chucking his device in the Thames. They arrived early, the couple who ran the group were still setting up. News of the death of Marie Labelle had already reached them, and they were appropriately sombre.

"Where is Danielle? Who will look after her?" Daisy McLachlan seemed pretty close to tears, and her husband placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"She's currently staying with a foster carer," Camille supplied. "We are having some problems with locating the next of kin of Miss Labelle – do you know of any relations?"

Daisy shared a look with her husband, who shook his head frowning, so she replied, "I'm sorry, she was very close to her mother I believe but she passed away, oh, must have been at least a year now. Though…did she not sometimes come to Mass with another woman, Dom?"

Richard gave Dom McLachlan a hopeful look, but the man continued to frown, "Yes, you're right, maybe every other month. Marie would come to Mass every week with Danielle, but she shied away from being active in the congregation. It took a lot to convince her to come here, well, we think…" He trailed off, looked to his wife who picked up immediately.

"We thought she might be nervous of people judging. I mean, she was a single mother after all, Dom and I have no problem with that, I think probably only a few old ladies would. We aren't just open to church goers here, so I think that's how we got her to come," Daisy explained.

"Was she close with any of the other parents here?" Richard asked.

Daisy sighed, "I don't think so. She would chat to them occasionally, but she normally stood apart from the group. Must mums like the chance to have a gossip and know the kids are ok, but Marie preferred to watch Danielle."

He exchanged a look with Camille, neither of them could hide their disappointment. He pushed it aside for now, they might get something from the other parents yet.

"Marie didn't talk much but Danielle is a chatty one. That girl was always coming over to tell me a story about her week!" Dom said with a fond smile. "She's very articulate for her age. She didn't ever want to talk much to Daisy or the other Mums, I think it might have been the novelty of me being a man – you know since she didn't have a father at home. I don't think Marie ever mentioned boyfriends or anything like that."

A sudden barrage of noise announced the arrival of a group of mothers with small children in tow, so Richard and Camille thanked the McLachlan's for their help and went to question the other attendees.

They were soon surrounded by a gaggle (Richard was certain that was the correct collective noun) of curious women desperate for the details of the case, but very low on details useful to the police. Eventually they managed to escape, left the women to their gossip. Richard was just about ready to get out of there (the background noise of children's screams and protests were hardly conducive to being able to think clearly) but Camille tapped him on the shoulder and pointed out a rather harassed looking woman trying to calm down a set of twin boys.

"We haven't spoken to her yet," she told him, leading him over.

The woman looked up from her struggles, and said breathlessly, "Oh please, just one moment, Dom!" They were joined by the play group leader. "Please could you distract the twins for a moment, I don't want them to overhear anything macabre," she said this last part in a loud whisper, and Dom carted the boys off.

"Sorry, I didn't come over before, the boys can be quite feisty! Plus I wasn't sure how much, ah, information you were sharing about poor Marie's demise. I'm Jo Falkirk," She held out her hand which Richard accepted.

"Detective Inspector Richard Poole, this is Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey, did you know Marie Labelle?"

Jo Falkirk let out a long breath, "Well, sort of. She probably spoke to me the most often – or rather I spoke at her. She'd listen but didn't very often contribute. We're both single mums you know, the only ones who go here, I guess I was trying to create my own support network. I told her all about how I ended up on my own but she never really shared her story, and I felt a bit rude pushing the issue."

"It must be difficult raising two boys on your own," Camille said sympathetically. Richard tried to push down the annoyance of her making an irrelevant statement – connecting with people is what Camille was good at, after all.

"They are a handful, as you've witnessed. Now I love my boys, but between you and me sometimes I was jealous of Marie, little Danielle was a delight. I'd complain jokingly her little girl was showing us all up. Sometimes she'd tell me how grateful she was to have a little girl."

That last statement set off that little bell in Richard's head. The little bell that warned him he wasn't making a connection - that he was missing something, but wasn't kind enough to tell him exactly what it was.

"I really hope you find whoever did it, and I'm truly sorry I can't be of more assistance," Miss Falkirk concluded. Whilst Richard was trying to figure out what had bothered him about the statement, Camille had asked if Marie had ever mentioned any relatives or close friends – once again the answer had been negative.

At the station, he did the stare-at-the-whiteboard-and-hope-something-shouts- at-him thing, but to no avail. He'd called Eleanor, who told him Danielle was fine. He arranged to come to the medical centre at four, so he and Camille could talk to the child psychologist after she'd interviewed Danielle, and then he could take her back into his care after that.

"You didn't know if you were having a boy or a girl when Juliet was pregnant, did you?" Richard suddenly asked Fidel.

He was naturally puzzled by the question, but didn't hesitate in answering, "No, we wanted it to be a surprise."

"Did you have a preference?" Richard asked him earnestly.

"Uh, well, no I didn't as long as the baby was healthy. Juliette confessed she would quite like a girl, but like me just wanted a healthy baby first and foremost, Sir," Fidel was wondering if he's missed something major. "Are you going to be a father, Sir?" He couldn't help it, he shot a look at Camille's stomach as if he might be able to check for a bump. She caught the look and gave him a glare in return.

"No! Why would you think that? No I was thinking about what Jo Falkirk said, about how Marie Labelle said several times she was grateful she had a girl. I mean, it just seemed odd, because most people they don't have a preference do they?"

"Did you see the way Jo Falkirk's boys were fighting?" Camille asked. "That'd be enough to make me wish for a girl!"

"Maybe your right…" he muttered, but he wasn't willing to let it go quite yet. He studied the picture of the murder scene, the disarray – cushions on the floor, coffee table smashed, crucifix on the wall crooked… "She was Catholic!" he practically shouted.

"Yes…" Camille used her patient tone, the one that indicated he wasn't being expansive enough.

"I mean proper Catholic. Goes to Mass every week! Crucifix on the wall!" He carried on excitedly.

"And this is such a breakthrough because…?"

"Well come on, what is the likelihood that a woman that Catholic would use a sperm donor, which goes against the Church's teachings? She said she was grateful she had a girl, another way to think of it is why would she not have wanted a boy?" He pressed on.

Camille thought about this a moment, and then seemed to catch up with him, "A boy might have reminded her of his father. You think she was raped? And that's how Danielle was conceived?"

"Exactly!" He practically shouted. Camille was staring at him hard. "I should sound less excited by that, shouldn't I?"

"Probably," she agreed. "So she comes to Saint Marie to escape this man? Doesn't want him to find her so lies about using a sperm donor, then keeps a low profile. But you think he found her, and he killed her? It's good on paper Richard but it's just an idea at the moment."

"We have Danielle's DNA, we can compare it to what we found at the scene that we suspect belongs to the killer. Fidel!"

"I'll call the lab in Guadeloupe, Sir."

Driving over to the health clinic, Camille suddenly piped up, "I don't think I'd have a preference either, not the first time at least, what about you?"

Richard had been mentally calculating the earliest possible time they could get back the DNA results, and ended up just staring at her in confusion. She glanced at him, then clarified, "Children, I don't think I'd have a preference if I had a boy or a girl – though having one of each would be nice eventually."

"Oh right." He didn't think further comment was necessary, though it was apparently expected as she kept glancing at him.

"Do you?" She eventually asked.

"Do I what?"

"Have a preference? Would you want a boy or a girl?" She sounded rather frustrated with him, which he thought was a little unfair.

"No, I guess not, but it's not exactly a relevant question," he responded, a little annoyed with her digging.

"Sorry! I was just trying to make conversation! I thought we agreed we don't have to talk about work all the time."

"No, that's not what I meant…I just mean, it seems pretty evident children aren't in my future, that's all."

"Why would you say that?" she cried, sounding genuinely indignant.

"Why do you care?" was his response.

"Don't answer a question with a question," Camille complained, then waited him out until he was forced to come up with an answer.

"I just think if that sort of thing was going to happen it would have by now, I mean, I'm a bit past it," he admitted uneasily.

"Oh you're not lost on the shelf yet, stop being so pessimistic!" She said.

"Left on the shelf and I think you should go to Guadeloupe tomorrow."

"You're just trying to change the subject," she protested, as they pulled into the medical centre.

"Yes, yes I am. But it would be a good idea – I'm hoping to have the DNA results tomorrow morning and I think it'd be good if you could go there and look into Marie's life. I'd rather not rely on the police there, it won't be a high priority for them," Richard explained.

"It's a good idea, ok, I'll take an early ferry over and come back that night."

If he didn't trust Eleanor, he'd never have believed the woman he was being introduced to was a professional child psychologist. She had bright pink hair, at least three piercings in each year and was dressed like she'd escaped the seventies. Richard hid his surprise, and when she spoke Richard had himself another example of not judging a book by its cover.

"We have the recordings of the session ready for you. I did manage to get Danielle to talk a little about the event. We were talking about games she played, I wanted to get round to hide and seek to see if it would trigger her to talk about hiding under the bed. Instead she told me something I think might be relevant – that her mother used to play a game with her. She'd say a special word, then Danielle would have to hide until she heard her mother say another special word. When I asked her when she last played the game, it was the night of her mother's killing," the doctor explained. "I'm not sure if you agree but that sounds like a mother trying to prepare for a worse-case scenario."

"It seems likely, yes," Richard confirmed. "Anything else?"

"She wouldn't respond to the more direct questioning, not unusual. I think it might be a good idea to have a few more sessions. I would say whilst she's in your care, pay attention to what she says – don't discount anything. Children will often say things that have significance if you question it – they also often work out difficult emotions using play, so watch her carefully. If you're not sure something is relevant, please call me or mention it next session."

The doctor knocked on a door, opening it to reveal Eleanor and Danielle drawing. The girl leapt up immediately and brought him what she'd been drawing, clearly excited to show him. Richard squinted at the scribbles, but unfortunately Danielle's artistic skills were more akin to Picasso than Da Vinci and he had no idea what he was looking at. A sideways glance at Camille revealed her to be equally puzzled, but Danielle was looking expectant so he struggled to come up with something to say.

"It's lovely!" he tried. Then, thankfully, Eleanor came to the rescue.

"Danielle has been working very hard on the picture of Harry," she said, smiling.

Of course! That would explain all the green, and he supposed that bit in the left hand corner might be a banana sandwich, "Well it looks just like him. We'll show him later, I'm sure he'll agree."

"Lizards can't talk," Danielle told him firmly.

"Oh well that explains why he never answers any of my questions." Beside him, Camille giggled, and being shown up by a four year old suddenly wasn't so bad.

He took her by the hand and as they left the building she asked, "Are we going to the same place for dinner?"

He was taken by surprise when Camille answered, "No, today you're coming to my house!"

When he looked at her for explanation, she told him, "Well I still owe you lunch for fixing the sink. She'll probably like my cooking better than yours."

He'd put money on that being a fact.