*OK, this started out as a little 2-parter but it just blew up out of all proportion. Let me know if I'm covering old ground here. The last thing I want to do is bore people.*

S1 E5 - Queen Trumps King

Part 1 of 7

Richard Poole breezes into the station; barbered, shorn, dressed for battle, and his shoes polished to a high gloss. Today is the DAY! Yes, indeed! Those Quarterly Reports are going down! All they need are a final polish, his signature, and they are DONE! Well… for a mere three more months… but STILL!

He is so intent on reaching his desk that the bright colours almost escape his notice… but he DOES notice and comes to a sudden halt. He puzzles for several moments, tips his head first one way then the other way but the colours don't change. No sir. There is a huge flamboyant bouquet of hot tropical flowers sitting on the corner of Camille's desk where they have absolutely no right to be! He huffs, continues to his desk while asking, "What's all THIS then?" in a jolly tone that might have fooled any other woman.

It might have fooled HER too but she is listening especially closely and hears the semi-hemi-demi-quaver in his voice and smiles privately before looking up with innocent eyes, "Oh, these? Um, Samuel King dropped by earlier this morning, that's all."

He stiffens, his briefcase almost set upon the desktop. She hears an odd squeaking sound, almost like the sound of supple leather being squeezed. Hard. After a moment, he completes the move then slowly turns to face her, his right hand rubbing his left hand. "Oh?" he huffs merrily, "And to what do we owe the pleasure of THAT gentleman's company once more?"

Camille keeps her head down but quietly shrugs, "Mostly to thank us for letting him off the hook over the Leon Hamilton case. He's very grateful since you COULD have put him away for quite a while."

A pale rictus that might have been a smile (but isn't) passes over Richard Poole's face, "I see, I see, well, then, shouldn't those flowers be on MY desk?" he asks with a deadly undertone.

She reaches out (rather too tenderly in HIS humble opinion) and touches a glowing bloom, "No, these are mine." Her hand retreats and she goes back to work. She doesn't seem to have more to say.

He waits as long as he can before blurting out, "And why is THAT, may I ask?"

She smiles small and this time he sees it. She knows he sees it because she sees his hackles rise. She breathes a tiny sigh and sees him swell up even more before saying, "Because he's asked me out to drinks this evening, that's why." She reads his darkening face with delight and thinks 'Check'.

"Oh," Richard says.

"Well," Richard says.

"Jolly good for you," Richard says.

And that's all he says.

The rest of the day passes in a gray blur. People come in, people go out. Phones ring. Various devices spit out an assortment of papers. Mugs of coffee appear and disappear from his peripheral vision. Richard Poole engages with none of it. All he sees is the slow track of light and shadow as his blazing nemesis slides across the sky to finally hover above the ocean as day morphs inevitably into evening.

And when Camille stands, pulls her purse out of a drawer and chirps, "Night, everyone," all Richard can do is nod dumbly and watch her saunter out, her rocking hips more than usually fascinating.

He stares after her for quite a while and silence reigns supreme before he suddenly jerks to life with a short bark, "Dwayne?!" A quiet, "Yes, Chief?" startles him. His eyes jink to the left where he sees Officer Myers watching him very carefully. A darted glance to the right reveals an equally cautious regard from Sergeant Best. Something about their regard gives him pause but only momentarily. He answers Dwayne, "Would you be so good as to run a 12-month background check on Samuel King?"

Dwayne nods sharply and mutters, "FI-nally!" in an aggressive sort of way that his boss misses entirely.

Richard turns to Fidel, "Can you trace King's movements this past year?"

Fidel also nods like he's been waiting all day for permission, "Oh, you bet, sir."

Richard laces his fingers together and cracks them like a pianist just before a performance, "As for ME, I'll check his phone logs."

Thirty minutes of intense sleuthing reveals a surprising picture. As the three men gather at the break area table, it is Fidel who shatters the silence as his boss gazes out a darkened window, pondering whatever passes for normal human thought processes in that finely tuned mind of his. "Well," mutters the young officer, "I see it… but I don't believe it. What do you think he's up to?"

Richard frowns and murmurs, "The evidence seems to suggest…" then hushes as if not sure.

Dwayne slaps the tabletop, making the other two jump, "He's up t' NO GOOD, that's what! A leopard shark don't change his spots an' a kissin' bug is always a kissin' bug! I don't trust 'im!"

Richard winces slightly but nods, "You may be right, Dwayne. This is highly dubious behaviour for a known felon." He thinks for a bit then asks almost nonchalantly, "Any idea where they could be?" No one needs to ask who he means.

Dwayne smirks, "Camille only drinks in one place. WE all know that, Chief. Do you feel a need t' stretch yer legs suddenly? I sure do." He gestures to the intense Fidel, "I bet we all do."

Richard straightens his tie and squares his shoulders, "Fine, let's go."

But Camille isn't at La Kaz. Nor does her Maman know where she is. "Richard!" Catherine finally glissades, "Are you worried for my Cami? Should I be worried too?"

Richard makes calming gestures, more for himself than for Catherine's sake, "No, no, I'm sure everything is fine. We're merely concerned about her date tonight. We know him, you see… and…"

Dwayne bursts out, "An' he's a major pain in the behind! You sure you don't know where they are?"

Catherine pulls her eyes off Richard and looks to Dwayne, "No," she murmurs, "no idea at all." But she does. She has a very GOOD idea. Maybe not where her daughter is at this exact moment but she knows what her daughter is up to because she helped formulate this convoluted little plan to win a most glorious prize, and this date is step one.

Catherine smiles, seeing Richard Poole hot under the collar is a real eye-opener. So, being the ever helpful and supportive Maman, she says, "Lah, I hope she found someone she can stand for more than 5 minutes, someone who appreciates her, someone who sees her for who she really is." She sighs and delivers an arrow right to Richard's heart, "Maybe THIS time she will find happiness." At the man's stony silence, she twists the knife, "Don't you agree, Richard? Doesn't my Cami deserve to be happy?"

Dwayne sees his boss flinch and grips a suited elbow surreptitiously, feeling his boss' arm pulse once with some strong emotion but the man's face reveals nothing as he answers this loaded question, "Most assuredly, Catherine, Camille's happiness is important to all of us. We're just concerned about the veracity of her companion, that's all. I'm sure everything's fine. Good night." And, with that, Richard turns away and marches out onto the street, leaving a very satisfied Maman in his wake.

Once outside, the men regroup, putting their heads together for a quick recon. "I don't like it," Dwayne growls, "Camille tells her Maman everythin'! Why not 'bout tonight?"

"Well," muses Fidel quietly, "perhaps it's too personal, you know? After all, how many daughters tell their mothers that they're…" he stops when he realizes what he almost said but not before noting the horrified look in his DI's eyes. "Um, sorry, sir, I think what I meant to say was… was… um…"

Poole nods sadly, "That's OK, Fidel, you're only saying what we're all thinking. And you're right, this is a personal matter and we have no right to interfere."

Dwayne's eyes gleam angrily, "DON'T we?! C'mon, Chief, this is Camille we're talkin' about here! An' Samuel KING! If she takes up with HIM then she's makin' a HUGE mistake! I mean, sure, she's been on her own fer too long an' maybe she's gettin' desperate, you know? Everybody knows it's not healthy fer a person t' be alone fer…" then stops when he realizes what HE almost said. "Um, sorry, Chief."

Any further comments are interrupted by a sudden hand-gesture from Fidel. The men turn to see Catherine watching them from a nearby doorway, eyebrows elevated and looking a bit like the proverbial cat with cream in her whiskers.

Richard reaches out, blindly pats Dwayne's shoulder, "Er, right, Officer Myers, we shouldn't leave the station alone for too long, time to get back." He turns to Fidel with fake heartiness, "We ARE keepers of the peace, after all, aren't we?"

As the trio wheels about and heads back uphill, Dwayne says very low, "The PEACE! Oh, yeah, she's gonna get a piece of MY mind tomorrow! She's got no right t' worry us this way. She's got no uncle so it's MY duty t' read her the riot act! The nerve of that girl!"

Fidel nods quietly, "Yes, and she's got no brother so that's MY duty. Maybe I'll hunt down Mr. King in the morning too and tell him what's what."

The two officers then look to their boss but he is silent; silent and pale and resigned. Dwayne glances to Fidel before saying, "Um, Chief? You OK? I'm sorry if we jumped t' conclusions here without proper evidence. All yer hard work tryin' to train us shoulda prevented that… but I know Samuel King an' he's NEVER been good news t' anyone! Not even his poor mama."

Fidel jumps in, "Yes, maybe we should trust Camille. She's a trained officer after all and she knows how to take care of herself. I'm sure King can't fool her. Or, if he does, not for long."

Richard winces and, if anything, pales even more.

Dwayne laughs bluffly, "Fidel's right, Chief, Camille's a big girl an' she kin handle herself. We're prob'ly worried fer nuthin'."

As the station looms, Richard finally allows the tightly held inner sorrow to wash over him. He moans low and mutters, "Yes, she IS a big girl… and that's what worries me." He mounts the steps and goes in to finish his shift, although he doesn't remember much about that either.

All he can see in his mind's eye is the smirking ogling rude behaviour of Samuel King a year ago, the behaviour that made his blood boil and angered him so unexpectedly. At the time, he'd thought it was King's disrespect that had upset him so much. Now he knows different. It wasn't King's disregard towards Richard Poole but King's fulsome regard towards Camille Bordey that had heated him up.

Yes, he can admit it now, King's attentions towards a woman that Poole couldn't acknowledge for himself is killing him. He feels as if acid is curdling his blood. His stomach hurts. His heart is labouring. Oh, he is in agony and he can't let it show to anyone.

Least of all to himself.

END – part 1