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It was a bloody cheek! He had given the last two years of his life to this bloody place! Crap tea, no decent milk, bloody sand getting into everything, too hot and food that either had eyes which followed you everywhere, or could induce the only known case of poisoning by too much fruit and sweet potatoes. And even with the recent changes in his physical status, habit and attitude, the food was still bloody awful!
He was solidly British and severely missed the cool green windswept isle of his birth, but did concede the point that allowances had to be made by staying in Saint-Marie. After all the town of Honoré had made him welcome and appreciated all that he did. Plus he had one of the best teams in the world to work with.
However by rights, he shouldn't be in this state but something happened because the team had overlooked a serious point with what effectively was his last case. It was that point which, ironically, kept him here when he should have gone home. A slight cock up with diagnosis and a very thirsty visiting mortician had resulted in this situation, but had also caused a bit of a ruckus too with a local chap who could get similar results, albeit in a slightly different form.
Both practitioners had fought over what could be done, one claiming a right due to being able to very swiftly intervene because he was delayed in leaving the basement mortuary and the other insisting that the situation be resolved with a more locally traditional method. In the end, it was Richard who, amazingly considering his condition, was able to make the final choice for himself.
Grimacing at the taste of the illegally distilled 110% raw cane rum, Richard carefully placed the vessel back to where he found it. He would have to go soon as the sun was due to rise within the hour, plus he really needed the sleep. He was glad he could do so at the shack although its other resident might be somewhat startled, if it was known Richard had found the hiding place under the building.
Stretching his arms and then straightening his tie, Richard looked up at the stars and wished Lucy could be with him but she had gone back to England. Looking back at the vessel now lying on the ground quite still, Richard felt a slight pang of regret in doing something that had driven his passion in life for solving puzzles, but there you go, he couldn't have everything.
"Sorry mate, but at least you won't have to suffer drinking that stuff any longer." Richard said, as he reached up again to float above the roof at the back of La Kaz, pleased at least he had the very rare chance to choose his future, no matter in what state and he had grown very fond of the place if he were to be totally honest.
But this form he had preferred and despite the upset with the Mobo, there was no bloody way Richard was going to choose to be a Zombie! So with a nod to a classic he had secretly enjoyed at school, and the great Bram Stoker, Richard chose the mortician's gift of becoming Saint-Marie's very first resident vampire, and a British one at that.
With a lopsided, fang bearing grin, Richard flew out over the ocean, heading with speed back to the beach. It would not do to be still digging his way under the shack just as the new DI, 'Humph' Goodman, was waking up!