Chapter 1 – Stuck in a Rut

The first drops of rain began to fall as Richard reached the final step on the staircase of Honoré Police Station. Without a warning, a gust of wind came from behind and literally blew him inside. A little peeved, he closed the door behind himself, strode to his desk with measured steps and put down his briefcase. His movements were deft, performed with calculated precision, his attire was prim and proper, and his slightly ruffled hair was the only sign of disarray in his appearance. He appeared to be calm and composed… and nobody would have guessed that he had been deep in thought during his walk to the station.

It was Tuesday, and he had just enjoyed a long quiet weekend at home – by rota, it had been his day off yesterday, and it had been good to have an extra day to recover from the turmoil of the last week. The team had been busy investigating several traces in a murder case that had recently happened, and on Friday – just in time for the weekend – they had been able to wrap it up and solve it. With much satisfaction, Richard had stayed late after the denouément so he could finish writing the report and e-mail it to the Commissioner, then he had shut down the station and walked home where he had spent the following three days relaxing, sleeping, reading and getting some rest. Of course, he had also done some chores and grocery shopping, but he had definitely taken it easy…

Since his return from the UK a little over a month ago – he had escorted a suspect and then spent a week visiting his parents and sorting out a few things like seeing his tenant and prolonging the lease for the house for yet another year, having appointments with HR and doing fun things (he had finally had the chance to visit some museums that had opened during his assignment in the Caribbean!) – he had decided that he'd stop slogging his guts out on this godforsaken island. Instead, he wanted to have some fun for a change.

The thing was that he didn't quite know how exactly to have fun here. 'Having fun' was generally a bit of an alien concept to him, anyway, and he still felt like a stranger on Saint Marie much of the time. At least, he knew that going out wasn't his kind of fun, but he had his precision optical instrument, so he had done more stargazing lately, and he had generally loosened up a bit more around his shack. It was perhaps not what others would have classified as 'having fun', but for his standards, it was an almost revolutionary act.

His mother had begged him to see reason and promise her to wear more comfortable clothes, at least around home. She had educated herself about the Caribbean climate and realised that Richard would kill himself if he continued to follow his usual high sartorial standards day in, day out.

A dark woollen suit might be the right thing to wear in London, and of course, Richard had to be dressed appropriately at work, and his mother understood this. But couldn't he relax a little at home at least and wear something lighter there? He shouldn't live his life in either a suit or his pyjamas, his mother had insisted on that…

Richard cringed when he thought of the desperate undertone in his mother's voice when she had pleaded with him to take better care of himself and stop being so stubborn. What on earth she could have meant with that second half of her plea, he didn't know, but this conversation had made him extremely uncomfortable, and in order for her to let him off the hook, he had promised her to get some more lightweight clothes for the time he was off duty.

He hadn't really planned to follow through, but then his suitcase had got lost again on the flight to Saint Marie, and he had been stuck with one suit and two shirts – he couldn't possibly wear the same shirts constantly until his luggage showed up again, so he had actually been forced to get some new pieces for his wardrobe, and while he'd been at it and bought three new dress shirts along with a more lightweight dark grey suit (no wool this time!), he had also got two new pairs of light chinos, three short-sleeved casual shirts and three polo shirts. He had sent pictures to his mother, hoping that she'd be silenced then – and that had indeed worked… well, she hadn't been silenced altogether, but at least she hadn't continued to pester him with this particular topic.

For his outside errands, he still wore his suits. The chinos were only worn at home, along with the polos and the short-sleeved shirts, and he was quite anxious not to let his team see his more relaxed look – although he didn't quite know why. Maybe, he just didn't want to admit that he had finally given in? That surely played a part in his secrecy. To be on the safe side, he always waited until after dinner before he got changed into his more comfortable clothes – usually, he was safe from surprise visits at that time… Somehow, he felt they should rather see him as a representative of his function as Chief of the Police – not as a real person. He knew this was warped thinking, but he couldn't help it, that was the way he was wired.

Although… it had been strangely pleasant, almost validating, to see Camille's appreciative gaze when he had showed up in his new lightweight suit and a new dress shirt… Fidel had made a casual remark about his outfit looking a lot more comfortable than the woollen suit, and Dwayne had said that he hoped his suitcase would never show up any more so he'd have to buy more of these lightweight suits that looked so much better on him than anything he had ever worn for work.

He still hadn't quite managed to figure out how exactly his team felt about his return. Before he had left, Camille had 'accused' him of wanting to stay in the UK, and much to his surprise, she had sounded subdued when she had come out with the thought. Fidel and Dwayne had seemed a bit more optimistic, although Richard had known that they wouldn't have wagered on him coming back… And truth be told, he had indeed toyed with the idea of trying to put an end to this assignment – he just wasn't cut out for life in the Caribbean climate.

Still… when he had been asked by HR if he wanted to stay on Saint Marie and prolong the assignment for an indefinite time, he had decided to accept the offer. He might not always be comfortable on Saint Marie, but at least people left him in peace, and he wasn't ridiculed by so-called 'peers'… with a shudder, he had remembered Doug Anderson and his cronies who had made his life so difficult in Croydon.

On the way back to Saint Marie, it had struck him that he had just signed his own death warrant… at least from a professional point of view, he was pretty much dead now.

But then again… strangely enough, he had never been happier - professionally. Of course, he knew that Saint Marie was a bit of a dead end, and he'd never climb the ladder on this island – there just weren't any perspectives here. However, there was a downside to everything… even to 'climbing the ladder': the higher you climbed, the more you moved away from real police work, from 'puzzle solving', as he called it. You had to get involved with 'politics', schemes and annoying social gatherings – it was bad enough in his current position, but he could live with it as long as it didn't get worse than this.

And his team here was devoted to the job… well, maybe not constantly, but overall, everyone was motivated and keen on solving the cases, and he couldn't possibly have wished for more commitment – they all put in overtime when it was necessary… Even Dwayne who wasn't the world's most motivated police officer did what he could – and his connections often had turned out helpful. Fidel was a gem – he was diligent, conscientious and thorough – and then, of course, there was Camille… resourceful and intuitive. She compensated for his own shortcomings – Richard was very aware of how abrupt he came across and that people sometimes felt affronted by his direct approach. It had taken him a while to understand that – for years and years, he had wondered why on earth potential suspects or witnesses seemed to clam up or feel offended when he was investigating a case – he was only doing his job, after all, and it didn't help to be sentimental when someone had been killed or got mugged.

But Camille's way of handling people had shown him that sympathy and compassion could indeed make a difference, and people opened up more easily when she was around. In spite of this insight, Richard found it hard – if not impossible - to convey these qualities, so he had learnt to rely on Camille's abilities to a certain extent and focused on his own strengths. That certainly had made his work a lot easier, and her support had contributed a great deal to the team's success. She also was an important factor for the team dynamics – Richard knew instinticively that it would be a lot harder for him to work with Dwayne and Fidel if Camille wasn't there…

His team's behaviour upon his departure had encouraged him to think that they wouldn't mind him coming back... and indeed, they had thrown a little welcome get-together when he had returned from London. Sadly, he had been too tired to fully acknowledge their efforts - all he had been able to think about had been the loss of his luggage and his own tiredness. During his stay in London, he had almost missed the warm climate and the sunshine in the Caribbean, but as soon as he had been back, the muggy heat and humidity had started to bug him again, so when he had entered Catherine's bar he had gone off in a rant rightaway again. Dwayne and Fidel had laughed, Catherine and the Commissioner had exchanged a knowing glance, and a smiling Camille had said 'Good to have you back again, sir..."

That had taken all the wind out of his sails... he had stopped mid-sentence, Catherine had pulled up a chair for him, and before he had known how it had happened, he had sat there with his team, a drink in his hand, dumbfounded at how it felt like he had never been gone...

The rest of the day had disappeared in a bit of a blur. Catherine had supplied a cooler full of food so he wouldn't have to return to an empty fridge, and Camille had driven him home... all he remembered of the remainder of the evening was that he had somehow gone through his bedtime routine, closely watched by 'his' lizard Harry, and fallen into bed at some point. They had all left him in peace over the weekend, so he had been able to acclimatise again, and on the following Monday, it had been business as usual.

Nobody had ever mentioned or asked anything about his stay in London, except for very general remarks about the weather and polite questions about the visit with his parents - and so - although he had felt welcome when he had returned - he had no idea if they had merely looked for a reason to 'party' a little, or if they had been seriously glad to see him again. And although he had thought that Camille had looked at him a little differently ever since and given him funny sideways glances when she thought he wasn't looking her way, he hadn't really found out anything about her real feelings.

But why would she care, after all? That hug and kiss on the cheek when he had left... most likely that was just her usual code of behaviour when she said goodbye to someone...

It bothered him that it seemed to be so important to him. He couldn't figure out why he wanted to know. They'd have to work together, anyway, so why did he feel a little let down by her non-committal stance?

Oh well... Whatever. Maybe he'd never find out.

As per usual, his face didn't show any of the thoughts and feelings he was preoccupied with when he put down his briefcase and said matter-of-factly "Good morning, team. Anything important on the agenda today?"

Camille smiled at him and shook her head. "I'm sorry – no. Just another run-of-the-mill day, I suppose, unless something really exciting happens…"

They were going through a bit of a dull phase at the moment, so her statement made sense. He wished it was different. He felt a bit stuck – he had thought everything would move forward now that the decision was made and he'd stay on Saint Marie… what exactly he wanted to move forward, he didn't know, though. But the lack of action at work gave him too much time to think about things he didn't want to think about – like friendship, memories of his childhood and what he wanted to do with his life – so he would have appreciated a really complicated case that would help to distract him.

Camille began updating him on what had happened the day before, and after a few minutes he was fully informed on the recent goings-on. She also pointed out that she had sent him an e-mail regarding a couple of files he had asked her to check, and Richard thanked her, opening his e-mail client and reading his messages.

He didn't notice Dwayne's nervous fidgeting, and it also completely escaped his attention that Fidel and Camille were exchanging apprehensive glances. Nobody said a word.

As Richard kept focusing on his e-mails, Fidel, Camille and Dwayne slowly returned to their work, too, and it was entirely silent in the station for a few minutes. Richard was oblivious to what was going on around him, and so he didn't register that his team members were keeping tabs on him.

Their striking quietness was so unusual, though, that it finally caught Richard's attention, and he was about to make a remark about it when he heard a noise from the cells. It sounded like a whimper.

He looked up, inquiringly, and all of a sudden, everyone else began to do something - as if they wanted to distract him. Camille made a rash movement with her wheelie chair, Dwayne cleared his throat, and Fidel rustled with his papers.

For a moment, Richard thought he had been mistaken.

But then he heard it again... a faint wheezing noise, getting louder and turning into a muffled yelping.

Determinedly, he got up – ignoring Dwayne's desperate attempts to distract him- walked around his desk and entered the doorway to the cells…