Chapter Text
Richard looked at the calendar and frowned. It was almost Halloween, and Honoré seemed to be doing nothing about it. He remembered the Venerators’ costumes. Solly in his skeleton costume looked ready for Halloween. Richard would have thought the Voodoo crowd would be planning a big celebration. But then, maybe every day was Halloween for that lot.
“Is something wrong?” Camille asked when she saw the puzzled frown.
“Not wrong, but I’m curious. I’m looking at upcoming events, and I don’t see anything about staffing for Halloween. What goes on here for Halloween?”
“All Hallows Eve? What should be going on?” asked Camille.
“I don’t know, costumes, parties, jack-o-lanterns…”
“Why?”
“Because it’s Halloween.”
“Right, All Hallows Eve. The night before la Toussaint.”
“All Saints Day.”
Camille rolled her eyes. “That’s what I said, la fête de Toussaint. It’s a holy day of obligation, and in France it’s a public holiday. I suppose it was here, too, when Saint Marie was French. Now we’re English so it’s only a church holy day. Actually the fête is for two days, All Saints and then All Souls. But only All Saints is a public holiday.”
“So nothing for Halloween in France, then?”
“There is some, mostly as an import from the US. A lot of people resent it as it’s all just commercial. And here on Saint Marie, we don’t celebrate it because it’s sort of demonic, you know? The holy day is more important.”
“So no mischief, no costumes, no going around for candy here? Then no special needs for staffing to maintain order.”
“No.” Camille paused and looked at Richard. “Let me guess, you’re disappointed because you were going to dress up in a costume.”
“No. I was concerned about staffing.”
“No, you want to dress up. Come on, tell us who you’d be. If you don’t tell us, we’ll keep guessing.” Camille didn’t really believe Richard was a costume party kind of guy, but she couldn’t help winding him up. “Let’s see, maybe a vampire? A pirate? A clown?”
Dwayne joined in with, “Someone scary from crime history. Jack the Ripper?”
“No!” Richard said. “This is a childish conversation. I do not dress up in costumes, scary or silly. Can we please just get back to work? I’m sorry I asked.”
Camille was not ready to let it go. “Fidel, what do you think?”
“Sherlock Holmes?”
Richard looked up in amazement, “Good guess, Fidel. I did dress as Holmes for a party when I was at university.”
Camille grinned. “I can picture you, with a pipe in your mouth, and wearing that funny hat.”
“Deerstalker.”
“Did you have a friend go with you as Watson?” Camille asked. She was startled to see Richard blush. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, no it’s something. Tell us!”
“All right, if you must know, I did not have a Watson, I had an Irene Adler.”
“A girl? With Sherlock Holmes?” Dwayne sounded astonished.
Fidel, who had read the books explained, “She was a character in one of the stories. Not his girlfriend or anything like that. He was sort of fascinated, but too interested in his detective work to like her that way. I think…did I get that right, Chief?”
“Yes, that’s a good description, Fidel.”
“So if they weren’t a couple, why did your date go as her?” asked Camille, curious to know if Richard’s ‘Irene’ was a friend or a real girlfriend.
“Well, she couldn’t very well have gone as Watson. No costume could have hidden, um, well, she could not have passed for Watson.” Richard’s discomfort increased. WHY had he let the conversation drift in this direction? He remembered the costume all too well, tight and low-cut, designed to show Irene as a loose woman. It got his date a lot of attention.
“Ahhh, what did she look like?” Camille was not going to let this drop. “Someone worth ogling?”
“Sadly, yes. One of the men who ogled her at the party became her next boyfriend. It was my last year at university. Then I grew up and became a policeman. Instead of running around looking like an idiot, I was rounding up the idiots who got out of hand.”
“Hey, Chief,” Dwayne looked up from his computer. “A few of the resorts are doing a Halloween weekend for their guests. You could go to that.”
“Dressing up in silly costumes is for children,” said Richard, in voice that he hoped would end the conversation.
“Then did you dress up in costume and have a party when you were a child?” Camille was still curious.
“No. I was away at school and we didn’t do any of that.”
“Your school didn’t have a party for the kids? But you just said Halloween is for children.”
“It would have been too much of a distraction.”
“Didn’t you mind?”
“No. That was just the way things were. Now that I think of it, when we got a new cook, she made soul cakes for us. They were a surprise for after All Saints Day services.”
“What is a soul cake?” asked Dwaye.
“It’s a sort of spiced shortbread. In the middle ages, children would go around offering to pray for the dead in return for a soul cake. The cakes have a cross on them to remember the dead.”
“That sounds like trick or treating,” said Camille.
“Some scholars say it is the origin of trick or treating. That’s kind of funny, when you think about it. All Hallows Eve in the Christian calendar is thought to have originated from a Celtic pagan festival. Then you have All Saints Day and children going house to house to offer prayers. And from that you get the extortion of ‘give us a treat or we’ll play a trick on you.’ And from there it moved onto scary demonic costumes. It's reverting to paganism.”
Fidel got up to collect a paper from the printer. “I found a recipe for soul cakes. I’m going to see if Juliet will make some. It would be a nice treat after we visit her grandparents’ graves. Maybe I’ll try to teach Rosie the song that goes with them.”
“You visit graves?” Richard asked.
“Yes. Mass on the holy day and then visiting graves. It’s from the French tradition to visit graves and bring flowers,” Fidel replied.
“From la fete des Toussaint,” added Camille. “We may be under English rule, but we still honor our French heritage.”
-o-o-o-o-
Since All Saints Day was not a public holiday on Saint Marie, most people took time off from work to go to church, but did not take the whole day off. Richard and Dwayne manned the station that morning, as they knew Fidel and Camille would be going to Mass. Richard found it amusing that Catherine was not bothered if her daughter missed Sunday Mass, but expected Camille to go to church on holy days.
It was quiet, so Richard stepped onto the veranda for some fresh air that just might be delivered by the mighty two km/hour breeze. He heard the church bell ring and saw people leaving the church. Fidel had told Richard he and his family would visit the graves and have a family gathering on All Souls Day, as it would fall on a Saturday this year. True to his word, Fidel kissed his wife and daughter and headed toward the station. As Richard watched him approach, he caught sight of Camille and Catherine. Mother and daughter embraced, then Catherine walked downhill toward La Kaz. Camille turned to walk uphill, toward the cemetery.
“Dwayne?” Richard looked in through the doorway. “Fidel is on his way. I’m going out for a bit.”
“Sure, Chief. I’ll call you if something happens.”
-o-o-o-o-
Richard loosened his tie as he walked briskly up the hill. It was too bloody hot to be doing this. Back in England, the air would be nippy. Trees would be losing their leaves, some already bare. There might even be a grey sky for a solemn day. But here on Saint Marie, it was hot as ever.
He looked around and thought it was like a living tableau of past cases. He saw Solly Jackson’s daughter and widow, as well as families of other murder victims. And then he spotted Camille, standing by a grave with a low headstone. As he walked toward her, she heard his footsteps and turned.
“Oh, Richard. Sorry, I’ll be back to work in a minute.”
He removed one flower from the bouquet he’d just bought in the market and placed the others on the grave, next to a larger bouquet. He handed the single flower to Camille.
“I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I’m not here to drag you back to work. I saw you heading this way after Mass, and thought you might, you know, like some company for the walk back.”
“It was kind of you to bring flowers.”
“Yours are lovely,” Richard said as he gestured toward the grave.
“Not mine. I guess her mother went to the early Mass and brought these then. I didn’t bring any flowers. I hadn’t intended to come up here, but I started thinking about her…” Camille sniffled and Richard reached for a handkerchief, but she shook her head and took a deep breath to regain her composure.
“I know that friends and family usually are the ones to bring flowers. But she was your friend, and I just wanted to, um,” Richard paused for a moment, and Camille smiled, wondering if he was going to say be supportive. But he surprised her by saying, “you know, remind you that today is to celebrate her life, not mourn her death. I know her life was cut short and she didn’t get to do all she hoped for. But you both had your friendship growing up, so try to remember that instead of thinking about her death.”
Camille nodded.
“I’ll, um, just wait…” Richard gestured to a slight distance from the grave, but Camille shook her head and turned around.
“No, I’m ready to go.”
Richard held out his hand, and Camille took it.
“Thank you,” she said. “For the flowers and the support. Maman made soul cakes. Come back to La Kaz to try one? With some tea?”
“Mixing an English tradition with the French?” he asked.
“Why not?” Camille smiled. “Maybe it will make up for you not getting to dress up like Sherlock Holmes yesterday.”
Richard squeezed her hand and said, “You know what would make up for that? A remembrance in honor of today. Tell me a story about you and Aimee as girls.”
“Hmm, there are so many. One time, I think we were about twelve…”