*kudos to ffh who deduced correctly*

Part 2 of 3

DI Poole shoots up so fast he's momentarily dizzy but manages to keep his balance and face the stern visaged man standing at the Public Inquiry Counter, "Yes? May I… um… may I… what?"

The man tips his head to give Poole the once over, "I said I've heard about you, from my wife, from my office, and on The Met Net. You're Richard Poole of Croydon, aren't you?"

OK, this is something I can handle, Richard thinks as he draws himself up to his full height which seems much taller than he really is. "Yes, I am, or I was. I no longer have anything to do with Croydon, I am firmly established here on Sainte-Marie and…"

"Yes," the man huffs, "and, from all that I've found out, the Croydon guv'nor is kicking himself for letting you go while the rank and file are lobbying hard to get you back. As for your fellow detectives…" he quirks an eyebrow, "Well, some of your former colleagues are ready to jump ship if you DO come back, any that survived operation 'Clean Sweep'."

Richard carefully approaches the counter, his wooziness under control for the moment. "I have no intention of going back. My place, my home, and my people are here. Now, sir, you have the advantage of me. May I have your name?"

The man grins, "My name is Andrew Young and before I gave you my name I imagine that was the only advantage I'll ever have over you, Detective Inspector Poole."

Richard passes a tired hand over hot eyes and mutters, "Why are you here, Mr. Young? Whatever it is, can it wait until my team returns? I'm recovering from a bout of fever and…"

The man leans on the counter with a happy nod, "Oh, I know, I know, Angela told me all about it, at length and at volume, several times." He chuckles, "She was incandescent over you high-jacking 'her' case then livid to learn about your perfect solve rate, claims someone should have warned her. Now she's worried this little episode will look bad on her record."

Richard's brow furrows, his brain has caught up to his ears, "Angela? Young? Oh dear, are you DS Young's husband? I'm so sorry…"

"Yeah," the man sighs, "me too, sometimes. She's bright but frustrated and it makes her stroppy."

Richard listens to this with a blank look then shakes his head, "No, I didn't mean I'm sorry she's your… um, no, I mean I'm sorry I was short with her here in the station, for deliberately calling her the wrong name, and making a dig at her title of DS. I'm sure she's a fine officer in her own setting. Sainte-Marie has a way of affecting people and I…"

Mr. Young holds up a placating hand, "I'm not angry or insulted, that's not why I'm here."

Richard groans and can't help but ask, "Why ARE you here, Mr. Young? I need to sit down so can you please state your business before I fall down?"

Mr. Young suddenly looks contrite, "Oh, yes, sorry. Why don't we sit out on your veranda, the view is lovely. I want to discuss Angela and I need your advice so it might take some time. Would you mind awfully?" Richard does the math. The nearest veranda bench is closer than his desk. He acquiesces and the two men step outside into the shade and seat themselves.

As soon as he is settled, Andrew Young turns to Richard and says, "I said I know all about you but that's not exactly true. When Angela volunteered to fill in for you, I advised her to look you up before she came to the station but she was in too big a hurry. She wasn't enjoying our hols much and that's mostly my fault. I'm a pretty boring fellow, I'm afraid. I'm a forensics pathologist at the Birmingham Centre and boring goes with the title."

Richard snorts, "Well, I could jolly well do with a boring bloke like you. All our forensics has to be shipped to Guadeloupe, which slows down our solve rate, let me tell you."

Andrew laughs out loud, "Slows it down? From what I hear nothing slows you down, not impossible locked-room mysteries, the wrong person being murdered, voodoo curses, missing corpses, dead bodies handcuffed to your wrist, or solving a murder in absentia while out of your mind with fever." He shoots Richard an admiring look, "I talked to your Commissioner as well and wasn't surprised to find out he's the main reason you're still here."

Richard mops his brow, "What do you mean?"

"I mean he's doing whatever it takes to get you permanently assigned to the Caribbean. I could be wrong but he might even be intercepting the increasingly desperate pleas for your return, not just from your old station but neighbouring stations as well. Why, I hear even your father's old stomping grounds is making inquiries." He cocks his head, "You're making quite a name for yourself down here, sir, and I was hoping I could ask a favour."

Richard comes out of his gob-smacked 'am I having another fever dream?' state, "A favour?"

Andrew leans in close, "Yes, it's Angela, you see. She's bright and driven but she can't seem to get any traction. I was wondering… we still have two full weeks of hols left… and I already talked to her superior and he's all for it… as well as your own Commissioner… and, well, not to put too fine a point on it, I was wondering if tomorrow is too soon?"

Richard watches the man sit back as if he's just made a telling point but for the life of him he can't make heads or tails of whatever the man thinks he just asked. Richard looks to the town below, then out to the gently heaving sea, then up to the scudding clouds. Nope. Still no clue. He looks back to the man and says, "Too soon for what?"

Andrew blinks, "Oh, didn't I say? Um… for Angela to shadow you and your team, to learn how you work so well together, what facets make you each so good at what you do. You mesh so seamlessly and there has to be a way to duplicate that. If she can learn your secret it will make her a better officer and that's all she wants but I'm hoping she can become a consultant and help set up other teams to emulate yours. She's not really a team player, too hard on herself and others, but if she can consult that would suit her better. What do you think?"

Richard mulls this over for so long that Mr. Young thinks he'd better nudge him awake when Richard stirs and says, "That actually makes sense except I have no idea what makes us 'tick' as a team. If she can create even a half-formulated plan for setting up compatible teams, I'm all for it." He ponders a moment, seeming to wrestle with some internal hurdle then sighs and murmurs, "Also, I know exactly how being the 'job lot' feels and if I can help her, I will." Then he holds up a cautionary finger, "Except for one thing, Angela never met my DS and my DS is a force of nature. Whatever neat and tidy formula Angela tries to come up with will have to include Camille Bordey and I can't see how that is even remotely possible since I'm still in the dark as to what goes on in that mysterious French mind of hers."

Andrew mulls this over, "Still, two thirds of your team have met Angela and knows how she thinks. I'm sure this DS Bordey will cooperate, yes?"

"Are you? I'm not. At any rate, tomorrow morning at 9am suits me fine. I'll have a word with my officers and make sure they play nice." The two men stand and shake hands.

"Thank you, Inspector. I heard you were a gentleman and I'm happy to find it true." He brushes a hand through his hair and mutters, "Now all I have to do is convince Angela."

Richard huffs a laugh, "Ah, good luck with that. If it helps, tell her I think she's very intelligent but lacks a clear insight into human nature. For that she needs officers Best, Myers, and Bordey. As for me, I shall teach her to check the furniture. It could be very interesting."

Andrew muses, "Yes, very interesting indeed, and maybe I'll book myself a secret room in town while it happens. She might not be too happy with me over this."

As the man turns to leave, Richard calls after, "What wife isn't happy with a helpful husband?"

Andrew looks back, "Lots of them. You aren't married, are you?"

Richard scuffs a heel against the floorboards, "No."

"Mmm," Andrew nods, "still, it's better than being alone, 'Happy wife, happy life', eh?"

Richard looks up, "I've heard that… but is there an adage for husbands?"

Andrew ponders for a moment then shakes his head, "You know, I don't think there is. Odd, eh?" Then he snaps his fingers, "Oh! What about the one about men and their stomachs?"

Richard frowns, "She can't cook, I've made inquiries."

Andrew frowns back, "Who can't?"

Richard looks away, "Never mind, I'll look for Angela tomorrow at 9am sharp."

Andrew salutes and continues on his perilous way. Richard sighs and goes back inside to await the return of his team and the equally perilous announcement he has to make.

END – part 2