The Better Part of Valour

31/12/07

There's no great secret to the prerequisites for a successful investigator. By applying himself, the neophyte can acquire the skills and knowledge necessary to his vocation. With experience, he'll harden himself against criticism and learn to observe and quickly determine what factors are relevant to the matter at hand while not expending his energies on those that are not. As I frequently reiterate, though, there are personal characteristics, unattainable on courses, without which his best intentions count for nothing. In order of prominence, these are Discretion, Intuition, Valour, Integrity and Tenacity (easily remembered by the acronym D.I.V.I.T) While the last named qualities are obvious assets to any endeavour, many otherwise gifted investigators forget the necessity of discretion. Put simply, a blabbermouthed investigator, however proficient, is a liability. Quiet satisfication should be sufficient to the successful conclusion of any case. Anyone who feels compelled to blow his trumpet should join a band and leave the delicate business of investigation to those who can keep their own counsel.

With this in mind, the reader must appreciate that, with regard to Colette's unscheduled departure, at this juncture, I can only offer the briefest of excerpts from my notes. "Colette irritated by Spencer's references to her friends," I wrote as early as Christmas Eve. On Christmas Day I added, "A quilt and pillows laid out in the gap between Spencer's bed and the wall. One of them is sleeping on the floor. Why?" Later that same day, I wrote, "Colette received three calls on her mobile in rapid succession. 'Who was that?' asked Spencer, struggling to feign indifference. 'Nobody,' said Colette quickly, prompting me (and no doubt Spencer) to wonder, "What sort of 'nobody' phones persistently on Christmas Day." Two minutes after the last of these calls, she went out 'for a quick smoke'. She didn't ask Spencer to join her." It was obvious that some unbidden guest skulked in a dark corner even we celebrated our family Christmas. As an investigator, it was incumbent on me to bring him into the open. Anyone who peers into the darkness, of course, must be prepared to confront whatever stares back at him. The investigator naturally braces himself to confront monsters. He must, however, prepare himself for the inevitable occasion on which the torch of revelation illuminates the face of a friend.

The immediate aftermath of any investigation is fraught with recrimination and the human tendency to apportion blame. On this occasion, had it not been for a compulsive sneeze, I might have had time to negotiate a happier resolution. Fate decreed, however, that my discovery of Colette's secret coincided with my own apprehension. Two hours later, Spencer, unwilling to contemplate the first of these, concentrated his wrath on the latter. "What were you doing in the laundry basket in the first place?" he bellowed as I tried to explain the purpose of the botched surveillace operation that became the catalyst for a succession of insults and revelations, culminating in Colette's early departure. Eventually, I thought it best to barricade myself inside my room as Spencer, deranged by alcohol and resentment, paced outside, maintaining a three hour diatribe punctuated only by sporadic attempts to kick in my door. Rather than add to his unhappiness by resorting to Cung-Coe, I phoned Christine who arrived within twenty minutes and managed to calm him down. From my room, I could hear only snatches of their muffled exchange. After ten minutes or so, the front door slammed and, from the window, I could see Spencer unsteadily making his way toward the gate.

"Why couldn't you just leave them alone?" Christine asked as I tried to explain the circumstances of Colette's departure. "You just wouldn't give her a chance!" This was a remarkable statement. Any reader of this 'blog' will appreciate the efforts I made to get along with Colette who, in fairness, did her utmost to defy expectation and behave like a normal human being. That we parted on, admittedly, poor terms is a source of sadness. Truth, however, must always prevail over mere sentiment. When the time is fit to release this particular file, any impartial reader will appreciate that my intervention was well-intentioned and entirely appropriate.

 

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