Everything just seemed entirely too surreal to Detective Sergeant Fidel Best. An operation that was literal years in the making and it was wrapped up in one dramatic evening, the blame sitting squarely on the shoulders of someone none of them knew of until the story was almost over. It just didn't sit well with him, and despite what Dwayne said, it was not the tuna sandwich he'd had for lunch.

However, no one in the building seemed to want to hypothesise, all of them exhausted and relieved that it was finally over. The only one receptive to hearing things was DC Clarence Bell, who had been rather reluctantly roped into the theorising considering that the two of them were the newest to the team and had therefore ended up with the night shift, and Clarence couldn't exactly escape.

"So Max Dooley went out of his way to set up Cameron Bennington for everything." Everyone else had finally gone to seek their beds, leaving Fidel and Bell in front of the bank of computers.

"Looks like." Bell said, chin propped up on a hand.

Fidel crossed his arms. "Do not get me wrong, Superintendent Dooley was absolutely the sort of man to take down someone from beyond the grave, but-" He looked at Bell. "Do you really believe that someone as narcissistic as Cameron Bennington would, after a lifetime of drug running and murder, would suddenly have so much of a change of heart that he'd kill himself?"

"Guilt is a heavy thing." Bell said, and Fidel's eyebrows rose.

"But do you really believe it?"

Clarence didn't reply but Fidel persisted.

"Do you?"

There was a moment of silence as the other man looked like he was considering banging his head on the desk before he sighed. "No, I don't." He said steadily, mussing his neatly-combed fair hair as he scrubbed his hands back over his head. "But it's where the evidence is leading us."

Fidel hummed. "It is where the evidence is pointing us, but maybe we haven't gone far enough."

Clarence's eyes narrowed. "What are you thinking?"

Fidel looked at the file in front of him, tapping his pen absently on the desktop. Clarence's jaw set in annoyance at the tapping, but Fidel didn't seem to notice.

"I'm thinking we need to look a little closer to the shipping company."

"We could lose our jobs for poking around, you know." The other man cautioned.

"Or we could be commended for following the investigation when the superiors have shelved it." Fidel counted. He was actually considering bending the rules. Dwayne would be proud. "We're just… doing some more thorough investigation into the company to tie up any potential loose ends."

"You know, I thought it was stories." Clarence just stared at him. "But you lot really are more flexible with the rules, aren't you?"

"Welcome to the Caribbean." Fidel countered with a grin, and the English detective rolled his eyes before resolutely cracking his knuckles and straightening slightly in his chair.

"If we get caught, I'm blaming you." Fidel was mostly sure that Clarence was kidding. "All right. Cameron Bennington, CEO of Sunnyside Shipping, a subsidiary of Salcombe Industries, for the last fourteen years. Board of Directors made up of four people from the UK and three from the Caribbean. We've found all of them and they're all apparently clean."

Fidel nodded, wondering if one day he would ever have the clear eureka! moment his old chief did. He solved cases through deduction and good, old-fashioned policework, but the eureka still eluded him, to his annoyance. "So did Bennington. Before he OD'd, he was apparently insisting up and down that his company had nothing to do with the drugs or Dooley's death."

Clarence nodded. "Money can buy reputations."

"The only standout is the silent partner." Fidel reminded him. "The eighth Director."

They'd phoned and left messages and emailed. For all intents and purposes the silent partner seemed to be an initial investor in the business and had been granted the title as Director as an honorific. It was entirely possible that the person didn't even technically exist anymore and the position was being used as a loophole so no outside company would be able to own greater shares than the initial investors and be able to force a hostile takeover of the business.

"True." Clarence demurred. "But you're doubting the suicide because no one knew of Bennington before his death, and now you're introducing someone else."

Fidel slumped in his chair. "You're right." He looked at the file on his computer. "Salcombe Industries." He murmured, starting to tap his pen again. Something was itching in his brain, telling him that there was something in front of his nose that he just could not see. Clarence finally snapped.

"Could you stop?"

"Stop what?" Fidel said. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

And boldly meeting DC Bell's eyes, he started tapping again. He was starting to wonder if his Chief had been as stubbornly obtuse as it appeared when it came to the tapping all those years ago or he had known the whole time what he had been doing, because it was actually quite fun. Bell scowled before scrunching up a ball of paper and lobbing it fair at Fidel's head.

He laughed as he swatted the ball from the air. "Constable Bell, I am surprised at you."

"Yes, well, a superior officer told me that the rules are a little more flexible in the Caribbean."

Fidel huffed a little laugh as he smoothed out the paper. It was an old recruiting flyer for the Saint Marie police. He remembered taking the exact one when he was 19. "The rules are a little more flexible in the Caribbean." He murmured to himself, brow furrowed as he stared down at it. And-

Eureka!

"That's it!" Fidel straightened. Slumped back in his chair, Clarence eyed him warily before wearily pulling his jacket over his eyes.

"What?"

Fidel didn't answer him, a thrill of adrenaline chasing away any exhaustion. With a renewed vigour he jiggled the mouse and started typing, pulling up employment records and news articles.

"Fidel?"

"It's all in the name." He said. "It's the name. It was staring me in the face the whole time!"

"What are you going on about?"

He wondered whether this sort of buzz was what the other detectives felt, this absolute feeling of certainty. "It was our first case years ago, me, Dwayne, Camille and the Inspector. The old DI was killed doing his own investigation into people smuggling, headed up by James Lavender, the Lord Salcombe."

That made Clarence perk up. "It's the same company?"

"The Directors have tried to distance themselves and hide it, but it's the same company." He confirmed.

"Can we speak to him?"

"He was murdered during the investigation by his business partner." Fidel picked up the phone, dialling. He had a hunch, and as much as Dooley would have derided him for hunches, Inspector Poole would have encouraged him to follow his instincts.

Despite the late hour, the call connected.

"This is DS Fidel Best of the Saint Marie Police Force. Can you send me all security footage you have, along with the visitor's log?"

It was probably the fastest he had ever received security footage in his life, and probably partly due to the fact that the warden was in the same book club as Fidel's mum.

The prison only had video footage from the last year before it was recycled. Fidel and Clarence watched as people came and went. He spotted DI Parker once or twice, and the Internal Affairs officers, before-

"There." Clarence hit the enter button and the video played out at normal speed as a familiar figure crossed the screen. Fidel watched, heart in his throat as Max Dooley handed over his jacket, wallet and keys to the security desk before turning and staring quite deliberately at the camera for a good five seconds or so, making sure his face was definitely embedded in the computer.

"Got you." Fidel whispered.

"Log has him down as visiting a prisoner." Clarence said.

"Let me guess." Fidel said. "Lily Thompson."

Richard and Roger were already sitting at the table when the prison officer walked the prisoner into the room and sat her down at the table before and handcuffing her to the steel loops set in the tabletop.

The last ten years hadn't been kind to Sergeant Thompson, her lank hair streaked with silver, bags under her eyes and a permanent sneer etched on her face. Richard knew from the visitor's log that Lily's family had visited at first, but after the first year the visits petered off. After her mother died in 2017, there were no more familial visits at all.

He blocked the surge of empathy. Lily Thompson was a criminal, a people smuggler and a murderer, while also cheerfully taking a paycheque from the constabulary the whole time.

Lily immediately dismissed Roger before her eyes landed on Richard. Her eyes narrowed, a wry twist to her lips.

"Inspector Poole." She said cheerfully. "You are looking well for a dead man."

Richard supposed he shouldn't be surprised that Lily immediately knew who he was even with the ridiculous beard, after all, she had a very long time to memorise the people that had put her in prison.

"Though I am a little surprised at your choice of offsider." Another disdainful glance at Roger. "Did DS Bordey make you sleep outside?"

Richard ignored the jab. "What is the nature of your relationship with Superintendent Maxwell Dooley?"

"What?"

He silently slid Dooley's police portrait in front of her. Lily glanced down dismissively.

"He wanted to know if I wanted help entering the kingdom of heaven." She said sarcastically. "You know those travelling evangelicals, always lookin' for fallen women to preach to."

He ignored her. "Max Dooley has been involved in racketeering, blackmail, murder and conspiracy."

Lily nodded. "Busy boy." There was an almost approving note in her voice. "Why don't you go ahead and ask 'im?"

Roger glanced at him, and Richard flipped another photo. This one was again of Max Dooley, but this one was of every bone in his body broken to force him into the steel drum, bloated and discoloured and oozing. She looked down and her eyes flashed back up to Richard angrily.

"I do not want to see that."

"Too bad, Sergeant." Richard said flatly. "I thought you'd like to know what's happening on your ship."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She said.

Richard arched an eyebrow. "We know that you're the silent partner." He said. "You were always James's silent partner, weren't you, Lily?"

"James is dead." She said flatly. "He begged as I pulled the trigger, you know." She leaned as far forward as the cuffs would allow. "And I enjoyed it, Poole. And you have no idea how many times I've imagined doing the same to you." She lent forward slightly. "You looking up at me, fear in your eyes, as I put my gun against your forehead and pull the trigger."

Richard met her gaze unflinchingly, not reacting to her description of his hypothetical murder. "Then you would be in distinguished company." He said steadily.

"Richard." Roger said warningly.

"Tell me why Max Dooley ended up dead on your ship."

Lily lent back in her seat. "Don't know what you're talkin' about."

"Tell me why Max Dooley spoke to you a month ago."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Max Dooley visited you and you have no idea what was said."

"Absolutely no clue."

"You see, that's funny." Roger, as always, came in like a wrecking ball guided by a drunk builder. "Because I certainly would have remembered every little thing if I'd had no visitors since my mum died."

That hit its mark and Lily stared hard at Roger.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be?" The strain on her cuffs was drawing white rings around her wrists.

"An associate." Roger said shortly. "And one of the only people that can get you out of here."

Lily's eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean?"

"Let me put this plainly, Ms Thompson. Your appeals have failed. You have potentially the rest of your life to rot away here."

"Surprisingly enough, I did know that." Lily snapped.

"Then perhaps you should be a little more receptive in cooperating with us." Roger said sharply.

Richard glanced down at the photographs. "We have been authorised to offer you reasonable clemency in return for your cooperation in this case." He said. "House arrest in exchange for information."

"Is that your definition of clemency?" Lily asked sarcastically.

"Would you prefer to spend the rest of your life sentence here?" Richard asked. "It can't be easy for you, a police officer in prison, even on Saint Marie."

Lily sneered at his attempt to be empathetic.

"I hate you."

"So I take it that you won't be considering our offer?" He asked casually.

"C'mon, RP. I told you we're wasting our time." Roger stood. Richard shuffled the photos into the file before following, indicating for the prison officer to come and fetch her.

"Wait."

He checked his watch. "I'm sorry, Sergeant Thompson, but I have no time for this if you're not going to be even slightly receptive."

Her face was twisted in hate, recognising the blatant good-cop-bad-cop taking place in front of her and frustrated that she genuinely had no other options available but to play her part.

"Please, enjoy your annual failed appeal." Roger said.

"Wait." Lily pulled against the handcuffs. "Sit down. I'll tell you what we talked about; I'll tell you."

"So you've regained your memory?" Richard asked mildly.

Lily's jaw worked for a long moment, torn between cursing him out and begging him to stay.

"Yes, damn it!" She finally exploded. "Sit down."

Richard and Roger exchanged glances before sitting back at the table, Richard waving off the prison officer for the time being. "Would you like to have your lawyer present?"

Lily snorted. "Is your word not good enough?" She asked sarcastically. "Inspector, I'm disappointed at you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Very well. Tell us about Max Dooley."

Richard was so used to people staring at him with pure hatred that it didn't even make him flinch anymore. "Got called up because a cop wanted to talk to me." Lily said. "Not just a cop, but a Superintendent. It was funny, I thought I'd been forgotten."

"You'll have to forgive me. I was dead at the time." Richard said wryly.

Lily's lips twitched at his snark. "He wanted to have a chat."

"About what?" Roger asked.

"You." Lily said, looking at Richard. "Bordey. James."

Richard's eyes narrowed at the mention of Camille's name, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Over nine years undercover and the whole time the key corrupt cop in his investigation knew exactly who he had been the whole bloody time. All those years wasted.

"Explain."

"Well, you see, Inspector, James was quite the canny businessman. It was part of why I tolerated 'im for so long." Lily said. "He decided that it was time to diversify our investments. Take us legal."

"Salcombe Industries." Roger said.

"The thing is, there were established companies that were already mainstays in the Caribbean that didn't appreciate our… diversifying."

Richard's lips thinned. No, other drug dealers or rum runners certainly wouldn't have appreciated an Englishman muscling in on their turf. "That's one of the reasons James needed you." He said. "He needed a local to head up his business."

Lily didn't say anything. Roger snorted. "Come on, Ms Thompson, it's not like you can incriminate yourself further. It's not exactly going to surprise anyone to hear that a human trafficker had a sideline in drugs."

Lily stared at Roger, her eyes seemingly implying that if she hadn't been handcuffed to the table the man would be dead. "You're an arse."

Roger was unfazed. "House arrest is only on the table if you give us something decent to work with."

She shrugged as best she could.

"Max Dooley turned up wanting to know about the other police officer that took over the business." She said casually. "Is that something you can work with?"

"Other officer?" Richard immediately asked.

"Do I have your attention, Inspector Poole?" Lily asked innocently.

"What officer?" Roger asked sharply.

Lily tapped her fingers on the tabletop with an annoyingly smug smile. "First, I want you to contact my lawyer and make him the offer of house arrest. In writing. Notarised." She added sharply.

"Ms Thompson-" Roger started.

She folded her hands together. "Go on." She invited. "I've got alllll day."

Richard glanced at Roger.

It took faster than expected to get in touch with the lawyer and get their offer accepted. After all, it was going on 13 years and both Lily and her lawyer were highly aware that this was the best offer that they were ever going to get. After the confirmation that the lawyer was about to send the paperwork across to the prison, Lily unclasped her hands and sat back casually. Richard was keenly aware that it was highly likely that now the offer had been accepted all further cooperation may simply fade away.

"Lily." He said. "We've filled our end of the deal."

She sighed dramatically.

"I suppose you want a name."

"That would be preferrable."

Lily smiled. For a moment Richard thought she would definitely be bitter and contrary enough to, say, give his own name, when an eyebrow rose.

"He's not a police officer exactly." She said. "Canducci. Phillip Canducci. Internal Affairs."

It was lunchtime in the bar when it happened. They were all sitting in the covered patio area, Darlene and Naomi cooing over Aimèe while Neville sat slumped with a cold beer pressed to his forehead, getting a head start on his day drinking. Camille slid a plate of hot chips in front of him.

"Eat something or you'll be drinking on an empty stomach."

"I've eaten!" Neville protested.

"When?" She asked bluntly. His eyes went wide, not expecting to be called out quite so quickly.

"Er, yesterday… morning?"

Camille pushed the chips toward him. "Eat or you'll hate yourself tomorrow."

"Yes, Mum." He grumbled, but he finally took some food. The door squeaked and Camille looked up.

"Merde."

"What?" Neville asked, looking over his shoulder. He grimaced. "Bloody hell."

Seemingly sensing that they were being observed, of course they casually sauntered over.

"Inspector Parker. Inspector Bordey." Phillip Canducci, Internal Affairs officer said casually, hand in a back pocket. "Funny seeing you here."

"Not really, considering that my mother's name is on the liquor licence." Camille said flatly.

Canducci's eyes were on Parker. "Isn't it a little early in the day?"

Neville looked up at the Internal Affairs man, down at his beer, and back up at Canducci. "In regards to everything that's currently going on, I have decided that it's in my best interest to take a half day and spend the weekend wallowing in abject misery." His raised his bottle in a toast.

It was the most passive-aggressive thing that Camille had heard come out of the man, and she bit down a grin. "Can we help you?"

"Just stopping in for a quick bite."

Camille could see Catherine staring at them from the bar, grimly shaking a cocktail shaker. Camille wouldn't exactly put it past her maman to poison the officers, not enough to kill but certainly enough to make them rethink their life choices. She narrowed her eyes at her mother and minutely shook her head. Catherine caught the look and widened her eyes innocently.

"We have the best seafood on Saint Marie." Camille said. "Maman can make it to go." Take the hint and go away.

"No, stay, you can watch me fall from my chair in-" Parker squinted at his watch. "About another 45 minutes, I reckon."

Canducci arched an eyebrow. "Inspector Parker, you're not exactly imbuing us with confidence in your continued posting."

Neville raised his beer bottle in a salute. "Cheers." He rather boldly took a big swig, and Canducci's nose wrinkled as he walked away.

"I am surprised at you, Neville." Camille's voice was amused. "You're not exactly making friends."

"I didn't join the police to make friends." The words would have sounded tougher if he didn't burp, hand clamped over his mouth. By the disgusted expression, there might have been a little extra surprise in his mouth that he swallowed back with a wince.

"Day drinking isn't a good habit to develop." Camille said. "I'll go find someone to drive you home."

"'M fine." Neville grumped.

"Of course." Camille patted his hand. "You're a big, tough policeman."

Neville laughed. "I suppose I do sound a little ridiculous."

"Just a touch," Camille winked, about to rise to her feet.

-the bar door swung open again, and Camille blinked as Richard and Fidel came purposefully through the door. She frowned, for one wild moment thinking that they were looking for her before she realised that there were police cars pulling up outside. She slowly sank back down into her chair.

"What's going on?" Neville attempted to rouse himself out of his alcoholic stupor. Camille just shook her head.

Richard and Fidel spoke briefly to Catherine before both turning toward the Internal Affairs officers. Fidel glanced at the inspector and Richard indicated for him to come from the side. Her eyes narrowed. She was sure that both of them knew she was there, but the current objective was much more important right now.

The inspector approached the Internal Affairs men straight on as Camille was aware of other plainclothes officers entering the bar.

There was a moment of astonishment from both Canducci and Darling as Richard addressed them with his real accent and Camille watched the almost comical changing of expressions as he identified himself. Fidel stepped forward to shadow Richard as Phillip Canducci slowly got to his feet, his expression disbelieving. He raised his hands attempting to talk his way out of something, but Richard wasn't having it. Canducci jabbed a finger into his chest but Richard was still calm. Camille winced. The man may have been Internal Affairs, but he had just put hands on a police officer.

"-we don't have to do it this way-" she heard Richard say, and Phillip Canducci got his don't you know who I am? face on, jabbing him again in the spot where long ago an ice pick had plunged. Camille couldn't help but stand as the other officers moved closer, knowing that right now Richard was surely saying in a calm measured way that if he touched him again he would be handcuffed.

But Canducci pushed.

The man moved to hit him in the chest again and faster than Camille expected Richard's hand snapped up, locking Canducci's elbow. Sliding smoothly into a textbook arm bar hold, Richard spun him around and sent Canducci crashing down headfirst into his food as Fidel hurried to cuff him.

"Blimey." Neville said mildly.