Part 2 of 7

Next day

Dwayne shoves a mug of steaming coffee into Camille's hand right on the station doorstep, steers her towards the break-area table, sits her down, and grills her mercilessly about her date. Where did they go? What did they talk about? Who did they see?

As Camille calmly recites the previous evening's activities, Richard Poole is at his desk barricaded behind mounds of paperwork, binders, and files, eavesdropping like mad, his pen scritching… just in case he needs to check the facts… or talk to witnesses… or catch her in a lie.

When coffee is done and she goes to her desk, Dwayne gives Richard a barely discernible nod - They went t' Pierre's, that's why we couldn't find 'em last night. Richard looks down to his notes and isn't sure if he's reassured or not. Pierre's, that's a pretty pricey place to take someone you hardly know!

Fidel brings his boss a fresh coffee, leans down, and mutters, "Do you believe any of that?"

Richard shakes his head, mutters back, "We need to talk but not here." Fidel nods, stands up, and jinks an eyebrow to Dwayne. Dwayne nods and jinks an eyebrow to the front door. Richard nods, stands up, stretches and says, "I could use some fresh air."

"Me too," Fidel chimes in.

"Me three," Dwayne adds.

The three men slowly meander outside as if each one is not-on-purpose going anywhere particular then fall onto the nearest bench and put their heads together. Richard looks into Fidel's eyes, "You sounded skeptical, Fidel. You saw those reports, what's your thinking?"

Fidel scoffs, "Samuel King? And Gordon Foster?! Working together?! No way!"

Richard nods and looks to Dwayne next.

Dwayne scoffs and growls, "Yeah, no, I agree with Fidel. The reports have t' be wrong! King an' Foster would NEVER work t'gether. As fer whut King told Camille, he either lied or… or… well, I dunno… but I'm sure those two can't be workin' together on anythin'!"

The two men watch their boss think, his head bobbing minutely, before he murmurs, "Well now, I don't rightly know. Something about this story has a slight ring of truth to it."

Dwayne's eyebrows fly up, "DOES it? What part!?"

Richard levels his gaze at Dwayne, "The part about Samuel King becoming an 'anti-scam' consultant."

"Yeah, well, OK," Dwayne fumes, "but what 'bout the part where Gordon Foster financed his trainin' an' paid t' set him up in business? What 'bout THAT?"

Richard muses for a moment, "That part DOES sound a little bit hinky, doesn't it?"

Dwayne explodes, "HINKY? It sounds downright WRONG!"

Fidel lays a quelling hand on Dwayne's arm, "Well, everything we found out during our online searches last night upholds this whole story, doesn't it? You saw for yourself, Dwayne, King attended Sainte-Marie College and took online courses from the US. He has his certification and he's definitely got an office on Guadeloupe."

Richard huffs a breath, "And who better to catch a scammer than a reformed scammer, hmmm? I will check with Mr. Foster but I'm sure he'll tell me that he's doing a valuable public service by providing the local population with an anti-scam professional."

"Yeah," Dwayne mumbles, "it takes a thief t' catch a thief, we all know that." This earns him a very pointed look from his boss and Dwayne suddenly feels a bit hot under the collar, "I mean… yeah… OK… point taken, Chief, but I never dated a woman under false pretenses." This earns him a pointed look from BOTH men and he blurts out, "Yeah! OK! Point taken! Say no more! But…" he sighs, "… but what are we gonna do 'bout Camille? Do we just wait t' see what happens? Hope fer the best?"

Richard sighs with resignation, "I don't see another course of action, Dwayne, not unless you want to have bits of yourself twisted off and tossed into the trash. I'm warning you, she's deadly when aroused." This last remark earns him the most pointed looks of all.

Dwayne leans over and whispers into Fidel's ear, "I think he means when she's mad." Fidel's eyes flare in a chastising sort of way but he nods back, conceding the point.

Richard doesn't see or hear any of this as he's turned towards the door, determined to let the whole matter settle itself. "No," he says over his shoulder, "I'm SURE Camille's better sense will prevent a romantic blunder. We just have to trust in the gods of good manners and common sense."

The two men shrug and follow him back inside where a very clever undercover agent may or may not have overhead everything. The day progresses with nothing more said about dates or drinks or what was (or was not) accomplished the evening before. In fact, it is with quiet relief that Richard watches the boisterous bouquet wilt and tip and slump into decrepitude. When Camille tosses the shrunken mess into a bin that evening before leaving, the men heave a collective sigh and relax…

… until a day later when a smaller but no less showy bouquet appears on her desk.

Not a word is said. By anyone. About anything. For any reason. The day passes. The bouquet is trashed. Another takes its place. This pattern repeats itself all week. The arrangements get smaller and smaller until dawns the day when a single red rose meets the horrified green gaze of one extremely perturbed sleep-deprived Englishman! His men watch the colour drain out of his face and know something awful portends. But what? When Camille finally pops out for lunch, Fidel and Dwayne rush Richard's desk, flinging questions and assurances.

"It's just one flower, sir!" Fidel stammers, "It can't mean anything bad, can it?"

Richard lifts hopeless eyes, "It's a single red rose, Fidel. RED! That denotes intense romantic interest in the age-old Botanical Code of Flowers. Surely you know that?"

Fidel nods sadly. He DID know that but he'd hoped the Chief didn't. But, nope, the Chief knows all.

Dwayne blusters, "A red rose? So what? I give those out alla time t' the ladies, it don't mean nuthin'." He sees the look on Fidel's face, sees the same look on his boss' face, and frowns, "Does it?"

Richard mutters, "It means you're going to be a bachelor for the rest of your life unless you get with the program! A single red rose is practically a marriage proposal, not to be handed out willy-nilly!" He looks to his men, "Has she said anything about King to either of you? Anything at all?"

"No, sir," Fidel says sadly, "not a peep, which is rather unsettling now that I think on it. She's always been very forthright about men's short-comings. She was always good for a laugh after one of her blind dates, but she hasn't said one word about Samuel King. Not one."

Richard's eyes darken and he mutters, "I was hoping this might be a passing fancy but…"

Dwayne sighs, "Yeah, who knows the workin's of a woman's mind, hey? She's been on her own fer two years; she must be awful lonesome by now. Maybe she's thinkin' she should let her standards dip a bit."

Richard says sharply, "Dip? Why do you say dip? What do you mean dip?"

Dwayne gives him a long look before saying slowly, "'Cause she stopped datin' 'bout 6 months ago. Her an' Catherine fight alla time 'bout it. Camille says the blind dates wuz a waste a time… that SHE has t' pick the man 'cause she's the only one who knows whut she's lookin' fer."

Fidel says low and sad, "And Samuel King is it? Do you think…?" He looks to both men, seeing the shocked look in their eyes, licks his lips and mutters, "Can Samuel King really be the one she's looking for? I mean, I don't really know what women look for in a man. I've asked Juliette about this and she says… she says… that Camille has either given up on men or she's in secret love."

Richard's voice is sharper still, "Secret? What do you mean secret? Why secret?!"

Fidel frowns, "Because Camille won't talk to her about it. Juliette has tried a couple of times but she says Camille just shakes her head and looks sad."

Now comes the sharpest tone of all, "Sad?! Why would she be sad? She can have any man she wants! Or… she could… but what if she's chosen badly? Has she, do you think?" At the other men's blank looks, he adds, "Has she fallen in love with the totally wrong man? HER? And King?!"

Dwayne shakes his head once more, "The workin's of a woman's mind is only a little less confusin' than the workin's of a woman's heart, Chief. Alien territory. No maps. 'Here be monsters.' It's best if men-folk don't think on it too hard. Safer. Quieter. Unless they come gunnin' fer you. Then you run!"

Fidel interjects, "Yes, OK, maybe we could leave it if this was anyone else, but this is Camille we're talking about here. We can't just stand by and watch her make such a huge mistake!" He turns pleading eyes to his boss, "Can we? As her friends, shouldn't we do something?"

Richard is nodding but not in reaction to Fidel's question. Dwayne's statement is echoing inside his head because he IS thinking about it! Camille. And Samuel King! How could she? Why WOULD she? Camille… Camille King... and not Camille Poole? He shakes his head abruptly. Whoa, where did THAT come from? I'd better get a grip or I'm going to make a fool of myself! He turns to his men and says in a monotone, "It's her life, gentlemen, however she chooses to live it. If she decides to take up with King then we have to honour her choice… like it or not."

The sound of petite footsteps on the outside stairs shuts down all further discussion. Just before Camille's shadow darkens the door, Dwayne grumbles, "Man, Catherine is gonna have kittens over this. We might hafta pick up bits of Camille once her Maman finds out!"

Fidel jerks upright, a sudden light in his eye. He makes a surreptitious phone call, his back to the room.

That single red rose fills Richard's world. It taunts. It sneers. It challenges! Finally, he can't stand it a moment longer and just has to step out for some more fresh air. As he passes Camille's desk, she reaches out and strokes a velvety petal; a dreamy move, a tender move, a loving move… and it sends hot daggers deep into his brain!

Outside, he grasps the railing in a strangle-hold and drags welcome air into stunned lungs, praying for the pain to stop. Just as he is cooling down a trifle, he sees a familiar colourful figure marching through the parking lot and jumps with fright. Oh god, it's Catherine! Why is she here? What does it mean? She looks mad as a wet hen and twice as grumpy.

He wants to rush back inside but can't get his feet to move. He is frozen in place as she mounts the stairs and squares off in front of him, arms crossed, brow lowered, teeth gritted, and not looking the least bit 'henny' at all.

END – part 2