…previously…

"The last person to edit the USB wasn't Dooley." Fidel said.

It was interesting that Max hadn't edited the USB since it had been found in his stomach and all.

"What do you mean?"

"The techies have looked at the USB activity." Roger said. "Something was deleted off it before it went into our bloater."

Richard just looked at him. As always, his old friend had such a way with words. His eyes narrowed. "That could come into play. Do we know what?"

Fidel shook his head. "Not currently, sir. Whoever made the deletion corrupted the data in such a way it's almost irretrievable."

That was curious. "The user was smart enough to make sure we couldn't retrieve the data, but not smart enough to disguise the fact that the disk was edited?"

"I know, sir, it's very convenient." Fidel said. It made Richard feel a little better that he wasn't the only one that could see it. "But we believe we have traced the IP of the last person to edit the disk."

He perked up a little. "Yes?"

"It's been traced back to the personal laptop of Phillip Canducci."

The name that Lily had given them. Richard sighed.

"How confident are you about the identity?"

"Reasonably, sir. We're still checking to make sure the address wasn't cloned, but it can't hurt to ask, can it? Especially since Lily gave you his name?"

Richard nodded. If Fidel believed it as well, it led a little more credence to the story.

"Now we've covered that, let's stop screwing around and bring him in." Roger said testily. "You and Best head in first. You'll have backup in case Canducci is packing."

"Yes, sir." Fidel said.

Richard didn't say anything.

It was now lunchtime. And lunchtime on this side of the island, there was really only once place to go. Fidel pulled up in a semi-illegal park, but judging by the old police Defender parked outside of the bar, the local constabulary weren't likely to ticket them anytime soon.

Catherine Bordey did a double-take as both of them entered.

"Allo." She said cautiously.

"Those men from Internal Affairs, where are they?" Richard asked brusquely.

Catherine's lips thinned. "I have been having a good afternoon too, thank you for asking."

"Catherine, this is important." Fidel pleaded with big eyes and Catherine swatted him with her tea towel.

"Now, enough of that." She said. "They're in the corner."

Richard followed her gaze to where the Internal Affairs men were sitting with their meals. "Thank you, Catherine." He said idly, motioning for Fidel to follow him.

"Wait-" Catherine began, but the two of them were already moving. A thrill went up his spine as he passed Camille, but Richard didn't spare anyone a glance until he stopped in front of the table he wanted.

After a moment the two men looked up at him in confusion.

"Mister… Palou." John Darling said.

"Is there something we can help you with?" Canducci asked, but the frown writ large on his face said he dearly wished to tell them to bugger off.

"As a matter of fact, there is." Richard said in his normal voice, accent and all, and watched as moment by moment their expressions changed with the realisation that they had been played somehow.

"Who the hell are you?" Canducci demanded. "We can have you charged for obstruction of justice."

"Good luck with that." Richard said dryly. "I'm Detective Inspector Richard Poole of Britain's domestic intelligence service. We have some questions we would like to ask you about your association with Salcombe Industries."

After a moment Canducci shook his head. "No." He said. "Absolutely not."

"Mr Canducci, if you do not cooperate, I'm going to have to cuff you." Richard said steadily.

At that the man slowly rose to his feet. Somehow Richard had managed to forget how tall he was. "No. You're not pinning this on me."

"Mr Canducci, we should move this conversation outside." Fidel said.

The officer poked him hard in the chest. It caught at the edge of the old scar tissue and a frizzle of lightning shot up his spine, even though that Richard was reasonably sure that the pain was purely psychosomatic after all this time. "You're not pinning your bullshit on me."

"Mr Canducci, if you attempt to lay hands on me again, you will be arrested." Richard said bluntly.

"Then arrest me." The man snorted. "If you had anything, you would have done it already."

"So you are confirming that you will not willingly come with us for questioning?" Richard confirmed.

Canducci's expression was ugly. "I will not." The man said, and doing perhaps the most foolish thing he could have done for a qualified investigation officer, he jabbed Richard's chest one more time for emphasis.

Richard had about half a second to feel slightly regretful, after all he wasn't a complete beast, when his hand snapped out before Canducci could lower his arm, turning his wrist outwards and locking his arm. Canducci's eyes went wide as Richard lent into a textbook hold and tapped the elbow, using the man's falling momentum to slam him face-first into his fish, arm up behind his back.

The man yelped in surprise as other tables gasped. Now normally Richard attempted to do his job unseen, but oh well.

"Phillip Canducci, you are under arrest for suspected murder, conspiracy, and the dissemination of illicit items." Richard said steadily. "You have the right to a lawyer, if you don't have one, one will be assigned to you-"

"You old English bastard, I'll take your badge!" Canducci roared. "You will never work again!"

"Of course." Richard said icily. "Fidel, a hand?"

The younger man stepped in, cuffing the Internal Affairs man and jerking him off the table. Richard rubbed at his smarting chest, willing the throbbing to go away. He looked over to Phillip Canducci's partner John Darling, who was just sitting glued to his seat, stunned.

"Care to accompany us to the station, Mr Darling?"

And after seeing what his partner's obstruction had just caused, Darling simply gathered his things and wordlessly followed Fidel and the other officers out of the bar. Richard dropped his hand, suddenly uncomfortably aware that everyone in the building was staring at him. Way to maintain your cover, you twit.

He briefly met Camille's stunned eyes and fled.

He was fairly sure with how inebriated he appeared that DI Parker would have no objections whatsoever to them commandeering the Honoré police station. In fact, Richard strongly suspected that when Parker finally clawed his way into painful sobriety in the next couple of days, it would be entirely possible his recollection of the previous week would be entirely obliterated.

Phillip Canducci sat staring blankly at the cell wall, pretending at casual but practically sizzling with anger.

And maybe a spot of fear.

Richard dragged a chair in front of the cell, a file under his arm. Canducci followed each movement with shrewd eyes as he sat and crossed his legs, leaning back casually.

"Tell me about Lily Thompson."

Canducci tried to mirror Richard's casual body language, but didn't quite make it as he bristled with manic energy.

"A sergeant of the Saint Marie police force." The man said flatly. "In 2011 she was arrested for human trafficking and the murder of her business partner and the cop that was originally on to her. I believe you're the one that made the arrest." He said casually. "I would have thought that you'd remember."

Richard ignored the venom. He flipped through the file, aware of Fidel moving in to shadow him.

"And the fact that up until the arrest you two were engaged?" He asked casually. "And how Lily convinced you to invest in James Lavender's latest business endeavour, an investment that has surely reaped you dividends since you never sold your shares and are the silent director to this day?"

The supremely arrogant mask started to slip.

"How did you-"

"I have a number of resources at my disposal." Richard said. That was true, of course, but Richard's initial source was none other than 'I know a guy that knows a guy' Dwayne Myers. "Please answer the question, Mr Bauhm."

The man rocked like Richard had gone up and physically slapped him, and that was all the tell that Richard needed.

"I don't know what you're talking about-"

"Please don't insult my intelligence." Richard said dryly. "How long has Max Dooley been stalking you?"

For a moment it looked like the man wasn't going to answer, and then he sighed.

"I don't know." He said dully. "He knew Lily and I used to be together so he went to see her. I assume he found my contact through Salcombe Industries."

Richard nodded. "The shares you kept in your fiancée's business with a criminal."

He bristled. "I didn't know that when I made my investment."

Richard's eyebrows rose. "But you still didn't withdraw your investment even after the arrest. You even assisted the new directors in covering up the scandal. You have to say that it doesn't look good from where I am."

Canducci didn't have a retort for that. Money, after all, was a powerful motivator and they both knew it. "I swear I never knew about the drugs."

"Of course." He said lightly, folding his hands together. "Money is an important necessity when it comes to changing your identity."

"Do you have any idea - what it's like-" Canducci bit out. "What it's like to be the son of a convicted criminal?"

"Tell me." Richard said, and for the first time in years it began to tumble out of the man, the story of a boy just starting his police career before his father was arrested. The years of being treated like a criminal because of who his dad was, his career coming to a complete stop as other officers refused to work with him. Meeting Lily, who was a bright spot in an otherwise dark world, and investing the little of his father's blood money he still had in a startup. The returns from the investment allowed him to live comfortably but people were still openly staring at him in the street, whispers that he couldn't have been successful on his own. Then Lily was arrested and Phillip took the money and ran to France, changing his face and his name and starting over.

Until Max Dooley ended up on his doorstop.

Richard didn't bother to voice the opinion that he strongly suspected that Lily had targeted him the whole time. A depressed young man with no friends and untraceable money would have been perfect. If he didn't know what he now did, he may have even felt sympathetic.

"What did he want?" Richard asked.

"To look through my father's notebooks." Canducci said.

"Did you let him?"

Canducci snorted. "You really think I would have been allowed to keep anything after the arrest?"

Richard's eyes narrowed. "You don't believe Dooley was there for the notebooks."

"Inspector, I believe he was there to rattle my cage." He said. "To let me know that I could never escape the sins of the father."

"That's rather dramatic, don't you think?"

"Anyone involved with my father was more than a touch dramatic."

He hummed. "So it would have nothing to do with him leaning on you to open an investigation into Selwyn Patterson?"

Canducci stilled.

"After all, why would you spend all that money to change your name, change your face and escape the place you were a pariah only to come back now?"

"He wanted Patterson gone." He finally admitted. "Said it was time to cut loose the fat."

"You had no choice." His sincerity always seemed like sarcasm no matter what he did, but Canducci didn't seem to notice.

"He said if I didn't lean on Patterson he would leak my new identity. You have to believe me, I had no choice."

"And then Max Dooley ended up dead on your boat?" Richard said mildly.

Canducci bristled. "It wasn't my boat." He said. "I'm a shareholder in the parent company, nothing else."

"I suppose it's all a massive coincidence?"

"Maybe it's the American CEO after all." Canducci said flatly. "Do you have anything more than circumstantial evidence for this, or-?"

He meant the aggression as an intimidation tactic, but Richard had been playing this game much longer then he'd ever expected to. "Mr Canducci, you have to say that you have the means and motive for the murder." He said. "And you have to admit that your motive is so much more compelling than that of a CEO who was ashamed of his ship being used for drug running."

Canducci just sat there, simmering. "I believe there was a suicide note admitting culpability."

"True, but at the end of the day, a suicide note can be written by anyone." Richard said. Canducci lent back against the wall of the cell, sizing Richard up from under hooded eyes.

"Think what you want." He said dismissively. "Everything you have is circumstantial and you know it."

Richard's lips thinned. They could go after him for starting the investigation into Patterson, but ultimately the Commissioner had manufactured his own charges.

"You have nothing, Inspector." Canducci called after him as Richard headed back to the station proper. "Nothing."

"Keep telling yourself that." Richard stopped in the doorway, looking back at the man impassively. "Phillip?"

Despite himself, the man looked up at his name. His eyes narrowed.

"What did you delete from the USB?"

For the first time an expression of absolute confusion crossed the man's face before he chased it away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Richard eyed him up curiously.

"Of course."

Roger was the first person that Richard saw when he stepped into the station proper, Rog's face twisted with disgust, frustration and a little bit of hate. Richard moved to head him off. "Don't you bloody say it."

Roger ignored him, of course. "Are you feckin' proud of yourself?" He demanded. "You couldn't just take the win, could you, Poole?"

Richard sat down heavily at Parker's, his, desk. "It goes deeper."

"Everything goes sodding deeper, Rich. There's always another rabbit-hole to fall down." He pressed his lips together hard. "You are so focused on the little interconnectedness of the universe that you're missing what's right in front of you."

That was probably depressingly true, but-

"So you would rather we had packed up early and gone home while a corrupt Internal Affairs agent remained at large?" He asked pointedly. "I take it that you believe him, then?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe!"

"Roger."

Roger scrubbed his hands down his face. "RP-"

"Dooley knew he was under investigation, and the one person who knew enough to definitely put him away would have been Pierre Bauhm. So it's a reasonable leap of logic to go and shake down the son for any remaining information or ledgers, but-" Richard shook his head. "Something just doesn't sit right with me."

"Maybe you have heartburn." Roger said wryly. "Canducci's involved in something, that's obvious, but we need something solid beyond the word of a dirty cop."

"Yes, I know."

Roger looked at his watch. "The transport will be coming for Thompson in a few minutes." He said. "We can only keep Canducci in custody for so long. Get me something iron-clad."

"Yes, sir." Richard said distractedly, brow furrowed. Roger buggered off to God knows where as other coppers moved in to keep watch over the cells. He lent his chin on his clasped hands.

"Fidel? Bell?"

Both younger men perked up at the sound of their names.

"I need a concrete link between Canducci and Max Dooley. Something beyond circumstantial evidence to do with the late Pierre Bauhm."

"Yes, sir."

Actually, Richard knew exactly what was bothering him.

"Check the floppy disk again. There might be something on it we're missing."

"Sir." Fidel said.

"Bell, get over to the techies. See if there's any progress on the deleted file from the USB."

"Yes, sir."

He stared off into nothing as the young men got to work. Very conveniently a USB had been discovered in the body, which from another angle would have looked like Dooley had known he was in danger of imminent death and had swallowed the drive in a last-ditch effort to bring down the network. But if that was the case, why bother with the floppy?

Max Dooley was a canny bastard. He wouldn't have just left a clue pointing at the shipping company for just no reason. His gut told him that Bennington's death was of convenience to tie up the case nicely, now he just needed to find proof of it.

The telephone on the administration desk started ringing before the phones on Parker's and his DS's desks joined the chorus. Richard blinked, broken out of his introspective spell, automatically reaching for the receiver and only just stopping himself from answering it on autopilot. Then the mobile in his pocket trilled shrilly.

Fidel looked at him curiously as Richard answered. After the initial greeting, the man simply listened to the caller, face expressionless.

He hung up.

"Chief?"

"Lily Thompson is dead."

Richard Poole had certainly seen his share of vehicle fires. After all, back in Croydon a car was being lit up every couple of days, but it was another level when someone was caught inside. He would never get used to the hush, the strange reverence of the firefighters, and the pervasive smell of burnt barbeque.

He joined Roger as Parker's officers and those on loan from Guadeloupe processed the scene. His friend looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Don't say it."

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

Roger's eyes narrowed. "Sure you don't."

Richard looked down on the burnt-out prison van. He paused a beat. "Do you still think it's not connected?"

In that moment he looked like he seriously wanted to slap Richard, but acutely aware that they were surrounded by other officers.

"It's not up to what I think, RP, and you know that."

The two of them watched the ME and her assistant that they'd borrowed from Guadeloupe bustle knowingly over the site.

"What have we got?"

"Looks like the prison transport took a corner too fast into a telegraph pole, bringing down the electrical wires. Busted fuel tank and electrical sparks and boom goes the dynamite."

"You know, you're supposed to be a professional."

"As if I could ever forget with you around." Roger snorted.

Richard ignored the barb, like he always did with his dear old mate. "All right, what's the next step?"

"The next step is you go back to the hotel."

"Yes?"

"And then take a big glass of warm milk and a fistful of melatonin and go the hell to sleep so you stop looking like one of the corpses we keep finding."

"Rog." He thought back to Dooley bloated and stinking. "I don't think that's remotely possible."

"Mate, I haven't seen you work off this little sleep since finals week."

"I'm touched by your concern."

"Don't be." Roger said. "I've seen exhausted cops break a case."

Richard sighed. "Roger."

"Don't make me make it an order." He said with the air of telling a cat to not push a glass off a shelf. "I need you at the top of your game."

"And wanting to be rid of me for a few hours would have nothing to do with it."

"Why, I am insulted at the insinuation. Absolutely insulted."

Despite himself, Richard really was exhausted as he'd discovered the water from the shower sent him into an almost hypnotic state. After crawling into his pyjamas he reached for the towel to hang it back on the rack, moving to flip it over his shoulder when a small head popped out and almost gave him a heart attack.

"Christ!"

Instinctively Richard dropped the towel and there was an indignant little hiss. The material jerked a little where it was puddled on the floor, and there was the sound of skittering little feet as something attempted to escape. Bloody brilliant. Of course his day would end with being collared in the bathroom by some Caribbean reptilian, his luck was absolutely deplorable. At least the presence of footsteps seemed to rule out the possibility of a snake.

Hopefully.

Cautiously Richard pinched the edge of the towel, grimacing as he gripped a bottle of shampoo in his other hand, prepared to belt the blue blazes out of whatever was trapped there with him, and whipped the towel back. The shampoo bottle came down, but Richard managed to still his hand at the last moment in shock and blinked in confusion.

"What-?"

The Caribbean reptilian in question jerked its little green head toward him before giving another indignant hiss before breaking for the skirting board and scampering up the doorframe, glaring at Richard upside-down with beady little eyes. Richard straightened, more surprised in this very instant than he had been in a long while.

"Harry?" He asked cautiously. Of course it couldn't have been his Harry, the original Harry would have died years ago. This must have been the son of a son of a son of, so on and so forth. Right? "How did you get in here?" At that, he scrubbed a hand across his eyes. "God, man. You're talking to a lizard like you're expecting a reply. You're a complete nutter."

The little green lizard puffed out his throat as if in agreement. Moving into autopilot in a fog of confusion, Richard turned around back to the kitchen, taking up a mango from the fruit bowl. Automatically he sliced the mango in half, before pulling out the pulp from one half and proceeding to mash it with a fork.

He truly didn't know why he expected the lizard to still be there when Richard ducked back into the washroom, but there he was. The green streak had scrambled further up the wall and was now on the ceiling, still watching him accusatorily, his tail hanging down rather comically in front of him.

He slid the bowl of mango mush onto the counter. Cautiously the lizard scampered down the wall, tongue darting in and out as he tasted the air. The little lizard seemed to stare at Richard one more time before diving onto the mango mush with a gleeful air.

Richard lent against the doorframe, watching as Harry went wild on the fruit with gusto. He looked down at the other half of the mango and shrugged. Waste not want not, after all. Richard hadn't thought his life could get more absurd, but here he was. Two creatures that should have died a long time ago sharing a mango in a bathroom.

"Cheers." Richard said, and Harry gave a familiar little chirp in reply. "I've absolutely lost my mind."

Harry burped up a mouthful of mush and saliva, before proceeding to re-eat his own vomit. Richard winced.

"A perfect metaphor, dear chap."