Chapter 2

Musings and Plans

The flight was coming to an end – soon they would be landing in Heathrow. Richard Poole was excited. He was finally going back to London, after an absence of two long years. Two long years with neverending sunshine (if you didn't count the tropical downpours that came in between), sweltering heat, sand everywhere, outlandish critters, bloodthirsty bugs, earsplittingly loud music, doubtful food, and – maybe worst of all – constantly good-humoured and relaxed people who seemed to do the conga at every occasion.

He wasn't used to all that, he liked it more quiet and civilised (for lack of a better word). He wasn't good with change, anyway, and he had been thrown into this Caribbean madhouse without having a say in it. He didn't understand the rules, and it was driving him up the walls how people undermined his attempts to live his life quietly and by the book. His book, obviously. In hindsight, he realised how silly it had been to try and transfer all his London routines to life on Saint Marie. With time, he learnt to make little compromises. Life was easier that way. Still, he struggled – on some days more than on others, obviously.

As it was, Commissioner Patterson had sneakily tricked him into staying on the island – both initially when the case of who had killed his predecessor had been solved and Richard was ready to go home again, and then again… after the first year was over and he could have had his old job back if Patterson had informed him just a little bit earlier - and he had no choice but grin and bear it. But now… he would go home for a week! Bliss!

Now, granted, it wasn't purely a pleasure trip, he had to escort a sulky and unhappy suspect to hand her over to the British police (fortunately, there was another officer assigned to the project who was now sitting with the suspect while he- Poole – was sitting separately), and that kind of job never was fun. He'd have to sort out a few things with HR as well – that bit worried him a little, however, he decided not to let it bother him at this point. But once that was done and over with, he was free for an entire week.

He hadn't had a holiday in two years. Of course, people might say he was on a constant holiday as he was in the Caribbean. Little did they know. Ah well. It was going to be rainy and cold in London, actually colder than it was in his fridge on Saint Marie. After the scorching heat that would be such a relief! He'd feel human again! For a little while, he reveled in the thought of feeling the drizzle, wearing his raincoat and carrying an umbrella again, then his mind wandered off to the other plans he had.

He intended to visit his parents for a day - after all, they hadn't seen each others since he left for the Caribbean. Not that he had any expectations as far as the communication with his parents went… it would be the same thing as usually. His mother would be fussing, and his father would talk about commonplaces – they hadn't had a real conversation in years now. Then, there also was another relative that he hoped to meet, he wanted to do some shopping, and of course, there were a few exhibits and museums that he would like to visit. Not to mention at least one trip to the White Hart where he wanted to sit in the snug and enjoy a pint of beer…

Richard knew very well that he wouldn't have time for all the things he would like to do, but he decided to "play it by ear", as they say, and not plan everything in detail at this point – something he had learnt to do to a certain degree during his stay on Saint Marie. It had been a lesson learnt the hard way – after some frustrating experiences he realised that life (or people!) had a tendency to get into the way of plans and that you just had to deal with the unpredictable every once in a while – and then it was better not to be too obsessed with plans as you'd only end up in disappointment.

So, he had just made a list of things he would like to have time for, then extracted the bullet points that were absolutely necessary. The others were left on a "maybe list", neatly marked with numbers, indicating their priority level. Yes, Richard Poole was just a tiny little bit obsessive-compulsive… but as it usually is, his most unnerving character traits were also his most remarkable qualities. He could be painfully annoying with all his nitpicking and drive everyone including himself up the walls with his hairsplitting habits (no, it wasn't always fun or easy for him, either), but his meticulous manners and love for detail were the keys to his success.

Even his team on Saint Marie acknowledged this after an initial phase of irritation and utter bewilderment with his methodical approach to things. They weren't used to this painstaking way of handling cases. But the successfully solved cases proved that he did something right, and once they had all adjusted to each others and accepted their respective qualities, they worked together efficiently. And he even dared to allow himself to believe that they liked him – they had all been somewhat bemused with his behaviour at first, and his DS, the lovely and very confusing Camille Bordey, never failed to point out that he was a little obscure and needed to "loosen up", but he learnt that it was good-humoured teasing, not merciless malice, and they actually had had some very good times together over the past two years.

Fidel, Dwayne and Camille were indulgent with him – most of the time. He still was more a spectator than a participant when it came to certain activities (like swimming in the sea or walking barefoot on the beach, let alone dancing in the streets), but he had mellowed a little and wasn't so adamantly against suggestions and spontaneous ideas anymore.

He admitted to himself that his team had been patient with him once they realised it was more fear of getting hurt and making a fool of himself than anything else. They just let him be and didn't force him to participate, but they didn't exclude him, either. Initially, he had turned down their offers to get-together after work as he thought they didn't want him around, anyway (after all, he was used to people not wanting him around), but he was hurt that they stopped asking. It was Camille who made him realise that they stopped asking because he had never accepted their invitations – he hadn't seen it from that angle.

Ah, Camille… He furrowed his brow. This was a chapter all of its own. She was a force of nature, if ever he had encountered one. When he tried to solve the murder of Charlie Hulme, she had appeared out of the blue and turned his life upside down… she was the enigmatic woman who popped up in different places, and nobody knew whom she was or what she was doing. She pretended to be Charlie's cleaner when Richard caught her snooping around in the shack, and while she was sitting on his bed (that now belonged to Richard) and crying false tears over his death, he actually couldn't help himself but notice how beautiful she was. He was lenient with her – until he realised she was only leading him on and promptly shifted her into the category of suspects. Then he got pretty upset and did everything to catch her – he was truly convinced she was part of the crime, only to realise eventually that she had been an undercover agent, and by chasing her and putting her into handcuffs, he blew her cover. She had been working on the same case. Had he known that, he would have acted differently, but the way the situation had presented itself, it had only consequent to arrest her and put her into a cell.

He was not amused when the Commissioner showed up and informed him that Detective Sergeant Bordey would work with him in the future. She had made him appear like a complete idiot, and now he was supposed to form a team with her – good grief, that was more than he could bear. It was also more than she could bear as she let everyone know in unmistakable words.

But they had no choice in the end, and after a bit of a rough adjustment phase during which she put him into his place (he simply wasn't used to working with a partner and tended to treat everyone like a lay assistant… she made it very clear, though, that she would not tolerate that sort of behaviour), they actually were a good team as they complemented each others – she was intuitive and had empathy while he was logical and tended to be a bit too unrelenting and almost tactless in his investigations.

She had made him nervous right from the start. He had pretty much given up on women after having been disappointed a couple of times but couldn't help being drawn towards her, no matter how often he told himself he shouldn't fall for her... She was so full of life and energy, and it was hard not to be enchanted by her. She drove him crazy in so many ways. So, with time, she really got under his skin, no matter how hard he struggled not to let her get closer.

There was just something about her that he couldn't quite put his finger on that made her irresistable. Of course, he knew that there were dozens of men worshipping at her feet, and she was quite the flirt – or so it seemed to him at first, but maybe she was just friendly and open – so he didn't want to join the army of her admirers and kept to himself. Plus he was her boss, so nothing but difficulties could come out of it all. And of course (at this point he his lips twitched), he was clearly middle-aged now, he had packed on a few pounds during his stay in the Caribbean, he was losing hair, bugs loved biting him, and his oversensitive fair skin just turned red instead of tanning – there's nothing attractive about that. He knew she thought he had swallowed an umbrella, as the French say, and she had often enough emphasized how infuriating he was. He never seemed to find the right words, and they seemed to argue all the time. He sighed.

And still… recently he had had the feeling that she was making an effort to be more patient with him. They had come to a new understanding over time, and a while ago, on the evening of the Erzulie festival, he got the impression that she actually quite liked the idea of spending time with him. He was not her blind date, as apparently she had assumed when she first came onto the patio where he was waiting to be picked up by Fidel (the younger officer whose wife just had had a baby – Camille's mother had talked Richard into babysitting so Fidel and his wife could spend a romantic evening together), but oh – how he wished he had been… And he had seen a gleam in her eyes that indicated she wouldn't have minded. That had made for a rather restless evening – he was torn between hope and misery.

She drew him out of his shell when they were stuck in the weather station in the night of the "almost hurricane", and he was so tempted to make a move towards her – but he was afraid to jump… what about the possible consequences? So, nothing happened… and that evening, he didn't even know whether he really wanted things to change or if he would be acting on an impulse, but the tension between them was making it hard for him to focus over the next weeks.

Something had to change – he only wished he knew how to induce it and which direction to take. He also was unsure about how much longer his assignment would last – that made it hard for him to commit to anything. And Camille was an unpredictable factor in this puzzle as he knew nothing about her feelings and wasn't sure if he was reading the signs correctly. Surely it had meant something when was so subdued when she heard about his departure. He had noticed that with some confusion. And she had hugged him when she said goodbye – didn't that signify anything?

He decided not to dwell on this topic any longer. It was just causing him a headache. He had a full week in London ahead of him, and he had other things to do than feeling ill and confused over matters of the heart. He'd come to the point where he would have to make a decision, and he hoped that some of what he had planned for this week would help him in that respect.

He sighed once more and shifted in his seat so he could buckle up again for the landing.