Glad you're enjoying…the most obvious thing is the hardest to see…

Present day, Honoré police station

"What is it? Dwayne?" Fidel, who had just put through requests for the background checks on the friends of Roberta Weymouth, looked across to his friend.

The large book that had come across from Antigua was being completed by Dwayne, with the forensic information for all analyses done at the Saint Marie laboratory.

Now, Dwayne had pushed his chair away from his desk, and had his hand against his head.

"Dwayne?"

Fidel's voice brought home back, from his memory of Charlotte…Charlotte and Antigua and Dr. John…

…Ms. Brook..

He turned his head and and looked at his colleague, his best friend.

"Close the door, Fidel," he asked, looking at his desk, and the out towards the screen shutters. "I need to talk to you, I need to tell you - "

He broke off, and followed Fidel as he closed both sets of doors, then drew his chair over to Dwayne. He watched as he opened his desk drawer and put a book on the desktop.

It looked old, very old. If there had been an outer cover it was long gone. The cream linen boards had an outline of a rock - an island - and children on the front, old fashioned children, in clothes from a long time ago, smock dresses, bobbed hair, short trousers, sleeveless jumpers.

"I stole it." Dwayne told him, flatly. He waved a hand towards it. "You should arrest me."

"You took it for a very good reason," Fidel blustered, excuse-automation coming easily in the defence of his friend, confused at his friend's reaction.

"No," Dwayne insisted, "I stole it. Before I left. From Charlotte." Fidel leaned forward and glimpsed at the title.

"The Island of Adventure," he read.

"She was going to throw it away; she - " He sat, resignedly, on the edge of his seat.

"So, what you are telling me is that you rescued a very old children's book from being destroyed…"

"Perhaps," Dwayne told him, then got to his feet. "I loved her, Fidel! She was so…so…." he broke off, and put a hand to his head. "She was different from anyone I had ever met, ya knaw?"

"Do you think she killed John Gold?" Dwayne raised his head.

"Dr. John?" He shook his head. "No. Not her…". But there was something, something that was going on, because -

"Camille hates her."

"Camille hates a challenge. Anyone who is not like her is a challenge. Any woman. And the way she came in here, like she owned the place."

"Charlotte Brook was an expert in her field…she did own Antigua's lab, in her way, she knew how to do everything - taught me everything I know - everything. That's what Camille didn't like."

And he remembered the soft smile, and the generosity of spirit, the time she had given to him, the care over his learning.

"I took her hand, once," Dwayne continued, half to himself. "When she was showing me how to carry out a blood test for alcohol. She smiled in a way that seemed as id the whole of the analysis was the most glorious thing in the world. She looked at me, and I took it…she frowned, but didn't let go. I asked her out for a drink…like I always did…I expected her to say no, but that day she said yes…"

Fidel sat opposite and listened to his friend. "We…"

"You slept with her…?" Fidel's prompt caused Dwayne to lift his head.

"It wasn't like that…we got to know one another…"

"Not well enough to tell us about this before," chided Fidel, "As if you were ashamed."

"Ashamed?"

"Why else hide it?"

"I didn't hide it…". Dwayne's words drifted off again. "I was having feelings for her, I was growing to love her. But one night, just before I was coming back here, ya knaw, I went round to her place, and someone was there. Shouting. A man was there. There was sounds of broken furniture…"

"Another man?"

"I never asked her, in the end. When I got there, the broken furniture was strewn around the living room…she was crying. And her face…". He broke off.

"I made to go, to run after this man who had done this to her, but she put a hand on mine, and told me to go home, told me her life was complicated. She asked me to go, but - " Dwayne shook his head. "I refused. I told her I was a police officer and would report this to Saint Martin's police if she didn't let me stay for the rest of the night…I just wanted to protect her. So she agreed. And it was our last night together, her in my arms…"

"Dwayne!" Fidel exclaimed, shocked. "And you've told no-one?"

"I told the chief," Dwayne told him, plaintively. "And he thanked him for telling him and then - " Dwayne's voice changed tone, " - and then he said a curious thing. He said, "I'm sorry it had to be like that but we needed her there." What could that mean?"

Fidel shook his head, before moving to the telephone. "We need to tell the Commissioner - perhaps he knows something. Perhaps your time in Antigua meant something… were you undercover?"

"No," Dwayne replied. "I was just here to learn this, ya knaw?" He gestured to his desk. "I didn't mean to like her."

He placed the book on his desk, guiltily. "She said I shouldn't read it; she threw it into the trash. But, when she eventually went to sleep I pulled it out, I read it…there were some not very nice descriptions of a black person in it."

Fidel smiled. "She sounds like a good person," he told Dwayne. "You are a good judge of character. And you wanted to help after she was beaten."

"I swear, if ever I meet the bastard who did that to her, I will - ughhh!" Dwayne broke off and slammed his fist against his desk.

"Keep it; give it back to her when this is all over. The chief will be back and have answers for us, I am sure." Fidel's eye drifted to the door. "Camille will be back soon, and Stevenson. And she gave us some jobs to do." He looked at the fax that had come from Saint Martin station, from Richard Poole.

"She seemed to be mixed up in something," Dwayne added, almost as a conclusion to his raw confession.

"Perhaps…perhaps the chief knew all along? He was always warning us here not to visit you; he wanted you to, "collect any and all information you can"...now he's gone over himself to do something we don't know about…"

"And now John Gold's dead," Dwayne added. He shook his head then looked at his desk. He nearly had all the samples he needed - he'd be glad when Camille got back with the statements from the murder victim's friends.

"How well do you know England?" Fidel asked Dwayne, who had sat back down and bowed his head over his work again. He looked back up to Fidel.

"I…don't," Dwayne told him. "I thought you were doing background checks?"

"I'm waiting for replies, and I was thinking…what do all these places have in common…Wareham…Sidmouth…Brownsea Island…" Fidel read the list…

"Brough…Guthrum…Corfe Castle…Nautilus…Elisabeth…Arabia…"

"I do know Arabia's not in the UK," Dwayne replied, darkly. "What would the chief do?"

"Print out a map and locate all of the places," Dwayne told him.

"Then what?". Dwayne looked at his friend.

"The he'd look at the board and start to put connections together in his head. Gonna try that while you wait for the background checks?"