An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 10 (10 of ?)
Title: An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 10 (10 of ?)
Author: dtstrainers
Paring: Donna Noble/Peter Carlisle
Beta/Co-Captain of this Ship: WhosInTheAttic- Seriously, when can the Twins come out and play? I miss them both.... Any and all mistakes are my own.
Rating: PG13 because of the appearance of Captain Innuendo
Word Count: 3,851
Summary: While investigating a murder, Peter meets a woman whose life is an even bigger mystery.
Disclaimer: Donna and Peter both belong to others, except in my own twisted version of what should be. My Great and Glorious plan is to post at least once a week, and always on Friday. And one of the unsung benefits of insomnia is an early morning posting of this week's installment. The bad news? I'll be too exhausted tonight to write more or hang about in chat...
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8.1 | Part 8.2 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12
Tuesday, 8 May 2012 12:20 PM
“The results of the fingerprint analysis have just come in,” announced Detective Sergeant Ian Keating as he strode into the office, waving a stack of papers excitedly. “We have a name! Bence, Jack Bence.”
Detective Inspector Peter Carlisle looked up from his pastry, hastily brushing crumbs off his hand against his coat before reaching for the report. He read through it once, then looked back at Ian. “What?” he mumbled around a mouthful of doughnut. “This boy? He’s the one who took down Alun Morgan?” He sat back and stretched his long, lanky legs under his desk, slumping in his chair as he studied the picture of Jack Bence. “I dunno- says here all he’s been taken in for is defacin’ public property. He’s no even a petty criminal, more of a - a graffiti artist?” Peter rubbed his eyes and leaned forward on his desk, resting his chin in his hands and considering the photograph on the table before him.
Ian raised an eyebrow at Peter’s distinction and ventured, “Maybe he’s moving up in the world? On to bigger and badder things?” Peter scoffed openly and Ian tried another train of thought. “Maybe Morgan surprised him at work?”
Peter frowned, then shook his head. “Naw, I donae believe it. He’s a spray artist, only in the Database because he wouldn’t leave his gear and wasn’t fast enough to run with it one night.” He examined the crime scene photos from Bence’s arrest which included pictures of his work. Graffiti art wasn’t something he appreciated, especially as an officer of the law, but he did have to admit the young man had talent. His work was painstakingly composed, beautifully colored and featured themes which focused on social justice.
“Ian, look at this,” Peter continued, tossing the photos back at his partner. “The boy’s actually got talent and he’s and conscientious about where he paints. Not on private property or where someone who can’t afford it would have to have it removed- no, he paints where his peers will see it and be able to appreciate it, but not where a pensioner would have to repaint his fence. He seems a careful boy, actually.” Peter crossed his arms and pursed his lips in thought. “A bit wild, maybe, but violent? I donae think so.” Peter leaned over and tapped a photo of an enormous Storm Trooper from Star Wars with a daisy tucked into his laser rifle’s barrel. “His work is all anti-violence but with a sense of humor: very socially conscious stuff. What’s a man like that doin’ walkin’ around London carryin’ a stiletto?”
“Still,” DS Keating persisted, “what’re his fingerprints doing in the dead man’s blood?”
“Good question,” he answered with a puckish grin. “When we find him, we’ll ask him.... “ Glancing furtively at the clock on the wall, Peter stood and stretched with deceptive casualness as Keating continued, flipping back through the case notes. Peter reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone, smiling at the screen.
“According to this, your witness saw someone stagger out of the alleyway and lean against the glass where the prints were found,” said Ian, looking up and catching the tail end of Peter’s smile. He frowned momentarily before deciding to let it pass. “Let’s have her come in and look at some pictures,” he suggested, reaching for the phone as he flipped through the notes again to find the witness information.
No,” Peter said bluntly. “No, she herself said she hadn’t seen his face and couldn’t identify anyone.” He shook his head as he moved around his desk and took the case notes back from his partner, tucking them into a folder.
“Well, then, maybe when we locate Bence, she can come in to ID him in a lineup? “ he persisted, reaching back for the folder Peter held.
“Drop it,” he ordered flatly. “She’s of no further use to us in this investigation.“ DS Keating sat back and blinked at the dangerous note in his partner’s voice. He had heard DI Carlisle use that menacing tone when interrogating difficult suspects but had never thought he would be on the receiving end of the implied threat. Peter eyed him warily, leaning across the desk to grab the witness information before backing away from Keating and heading for the door, almost colliding with Detective Dexter in the process.
Keating’s eyes widened and he stood quickly, grabbing for his coat. “And where are you off to?” he called, sidestepping Dexter and heading after Peter. “It’s nearly time for lunch. I thought we’d start looking for Bence and get a bite....”
Peter cut him off, “I have a previous engagement.” He glanced down at his phone and thumbed a reply, never breaking stride. “I’ll be back within the hour.”
***************
Donna had just sat down at the table with their lunch order when Peter breezed through the door, with an expectant smile. He realized she must have noticed his habit of sitting where he could observe the goings-on in a room since she had selected the table in the far back corner for their lunch date. He walked straight to her and gave her a quick kiss before taking a seat across the table from her. With a bit of training, he thought, she would make an excellent detective in her own right.
“You look lovely today,” he said to her, admiring how the deep blue of her blouse contrasted with her copper tresses. “How long will the good people at Cheltenham & Gloucester PLC be availin’ themselves of your considerable talents?” he asked, grinning at the answering flush spreading across her cheeks. He loved that he could make her smile and blush so easily, but wished she would accept his complements as sincere. “This location is dead useful for me and my future plans.”
“And those plans are?” she countered, biting her lip to suppress her own grin. Whenever he smiled like that in her direction, her insides fluttered and she wanted to get him alone in the nearest broom cupboard and snog him silly. She idly wondered for just a moment what he’d say if she suggested it.
“Why, to see you every chance I get, of course,” he replied, watching her smile morph into a delighted grin.
Donna’s hand inched closer to his, then, but remembering the time and the place, she detoured to pick up her fork. She dug into an order of spicy crayfish noodles and watched as he unwrapped the sandwich she’d ordered for him. Anticipating his reaction, Donna warned, “Before you complain about your lunch order, I’ve got one word for you, Policeman: don’t.”
“I was no...,” he began before she abruptly interrupted.
“I’ve seen your eatin’ habits, when left to your own devices, and quite frankly, they’re rubbish.” She was brandishing another bloody fork at him, albeit a plastic one this time, and Peter sat and waited for her to finish her offensive. “I don’t know how you stay so thin, what with all the junk food you eat, but it’s high time you took better care of yourself.” She was waving her fork in the air as she spoke, and Peter suspected she was just getting warmed up. “Remember, Copper, I’ve seen the insides of both your pantry AND your fridge.”
“Donna, this is fine, really. I like smoked salmon,” he explained as he picked up his lunch and took a bite. “I do!” he insisted as she regarded him suspiciously. “I just never really gave much thought to what I eat. I’m usually on the go and grab whatever I can is all. My metabolism pretty much keeps my weight in check and,” he paused, considering his next words carefully, “there hasnae been anyone to be concerned for my health in a long while.”
“Well, there is now, and you’re gonna mind what you eat. I don’t mean you should give up sweets and such altogether, but really!” she said emphatically, with another jab of the fork. “The way you eat, you’re gonna put yourself in an early grave and I wanna keep you around as long as possible.”
Peter laid his sandwich down and reached across the table then to capture her hand, taking the fork from her and placing it on the table. “There now, first time I’ve felt safe since I sat down,” he quipped, kissing her hand gently as she flushed a particularly fetching shade of red. “Point taken and efforts to take better care of m’self will commence immediately. Satisfied, Ms. Noble?”
Mollified, Donna hid her embarrassment at her outburst by blustering, “They better, if you know what’s good for you, Policeman.” He was grinning openly at her now, and she ducked her head and glanced away for a moment to regain her composure. When she turned back, he was still beaming at her as if he were completely daft. “I mean it,” she finished weakly, suppressing a laugh without much success.
“It's nice to be able to see you for lunch. How long are you gonna be here at this position?” he asked. He reached for his drink to give his hands something to do besides stretch out for hers.
“Oh, about six months. I’m fillin’ in for a girl out on maternity leave. I used to temp a lot with her before she got this permanent job. The first girl they sent in was offered a full-time job when someone else got a promotion. Iona knows I don’t want full-time and would do a good job in her absence, so she felt safe with me taking over the second half of her leave,” Donna finished, matter-of-factly. She neglected to tell him that the deciding factor for her taking the job was when she realized his offices would be almost across the street from hers.
“I’m glad you’re closer now. I've missed you these last few days,” Peter confessed, his smile widening and his eyes twinkling.
“You just saw me night before last, you big dumbo!” Donna reminded him as she slapped playfully at his shoulder and retrieved her fork. She looked at him closer and added, “But somethin’s botherin’ you. What is it?”
Peter raised his eyebrows in surprise for a moment, considering what to reveal. “We’ve identified a suspect in the murder of Alun Morgan, but I dunno,” he admitted. “His prints were the ones found in the victim’s blood at the scene, but something about it all just doesnae fit.”
Donna paused with a forkful of noodles halfway to her lips. She rested her elbow against the table and asked him thoughtfully, “What is it that doesn’t ring true for you? You don’t think he’s the murderer?”
“Yeah, I donae believe he did it. Seems out of character, if you will,” he said quietly, his eyes losing focus. He shook his head quickly and brought his attention back to Donna. “I know that even a good man can be pushed into doing somethin’ wrong in the heat of the moment, but this doesn’t seem right. I mean, what was a graffiti artist doing carryin’ around a stilletto?’ he concluded, frowning and scratching his head. “It’s a puzzle, it is.”
Donna cocked her head to the side with a puzzled frown of her own. “But if his prints were there, in the blood? If he was the man I saw stumblin’ away?”, she asked, trying to make sense of the whole situation.
Peter nodded, conceding her point. “Oh, he was there, all right. He was involved, but the killer? I do nae think so...” he said, pointing at her for emphasis, his voice dropping back into a more pronounced Scottish burr. He sat back and chewed his cheek thoughtfully before shrugging and picking up the last of his sandwich.
Donna speared the remaining crawfish in her salad and bit into it, chewing while she considered his words. She swallowed and asked abruptly, “What will you do now?
Peter finished his sandwich and reached for a napkin. “Track down our suspect,” he admitted around the last bite of his lunch. He swallowed and reached for his drink, pausing to give her a sideways glance. “Other than that?” He shrugged, then smiled wickedly. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to reinterview a few key witnesses.” He arched an eyebrow smugly, clearly indicating her.
“Oh, bother,” she complained as she lowered her chin and looked up at him through her lashes. “So you'll have time, but it looks like I'll be tied up with that blasted Detective Inspector.” She reached out and touched the back of his hand, letting her fingertips trail along his fingers. Peter turned his hand palm-up and took her hand in his. “Just my luck. It's always the way- I never seem to be in the right place at the right time,” she finished sadly all the while smiling, trying to tease him into responding.
“I seem to recall,” he said huskily, “that as far as I’m concerned, you were in exactly the right place at the right time a few Saturdays ago.” He leaned in conspiratorially as he spoke, the last bit stage-whispered into her ear, then planted a kiss on her cheek before she could respond.
“Let me amend that statement, then,” Donna responded, mimicking his speech patterns. “I never seemed to be in the right place at the right time, until I met you, that is.” The playful teasing disappeared from her voice and she tightened her grip on his hand.
Donna couldn’t help it- she glanced at her watch and mentally calculated how long it would take them to get back to his place verses her flat. She closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. It was the middle of the day, after all, and they both had jobs to return to.
Besides, she thought wryly, she had been the one to make the bold declaration that they needed to slow down their relationship, and she wanted to kick herself for it. In the past twelve days, the four dates she’d had with Peter had all been lovely and all had all ended exactly the same way. He would escort her to her door and leave her safely on the threshold with a single, heart-wrenchingly perfect kiss before turning and melting into the night. The damned man knew exactly what he was doing to her and it made her want to scream. Now here she was walking about perpetually aroused as a result and she had only herself to blame. She opened her eyes to find him shamelessly studying her face with a curious expression.
“I've missed you, too, and I’m very happy for you,” she explained. “You’ve been workin’ hard on this case and I'm just glad I could help out a bit. You're good at what you do, you know.” Donna regarded him thoughtfully. “You can see things others miss. That's a gift.”
Peter was just a bit too smug about his abilities to pretend to be modest. “I've wanted to be a detective since I was maybe--fourteen?” he scratched his head, thinking about how long ago that was. “I grew up readin’ Sherlock Holmes novels and the like. It's only dumb luck that I turned out to be brilliant at it,” he said, folding his arms across his chest as he sat back in his chair. “I'm good with people,” he said, “Except for when I'm bad with them. People think I'm an ass, sometimes, but I can sure get them to talk.”
“Sherlock Holmes!” Donna crowed, laughing aloud. “You're gonna regret tellin’ me that, Policeman, I promise!” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial level and she leaned across the table. “Can I be your Watson?" she asked as she pushed the remains of her lunch aside.
“Of course,” he replied, fighting to keep his eyes on her face and not on the cleavage she was inadvertently displaying to him. “Have I told you how lovely you look in blue?”
She stopped teasing abruptly, remembering something he just said. “Stop tryin’ to change the subject,” she told him bluntly. “Peter, there's nothin’ dumb about you at all- not even your luck. AND,” she continued, on a roll again, “it's your job to get people to talk. If they think you're a bastard, well, they must have somethin’ to hide,” she concluded self-righteously on his behalf.
She paused, thinking that she was coming on a bit forcefully again and tried to change the subject herself. “So, are we still on for later tonight? What are we doin’?”
He grinned wolfishly, happy for this opportunity and hoping he hadn’t misread the signals Donna had been giving him. “Well, I was hopin’ to have my girlfriend over tonight, cook her a wonderful meal, and then, if I’m lucky...” he dropped his voice to a whisper only she could hear, “make love to her on the sofa. Or the bed. Or maybe both.” When Donna could only look at him in shock, he added thoughtfully “...or the floor.”
“Lucky, lucky girl,” Donna gasped when her ability to speak reasserted itself.
“But...she's the star witness in this murder case...” he said with reluctance, spreading his hands before him with a shrug.
Donna gave him a questioning look before he continued. “She's spendin’ all her time with this dashin’ D.I. and I think I might have to up my game. If I'm gonna hang onto her, that is,” explained, quirking an eyebrow and giving her a playful smile.
Donna smiled back, relieved. “Oh, I dunno,’ she demurred. “I think you're dashin’ enough to keep her interest. And if she's so daft as to run off with another man, you can always call me. I'd come runnin’.” She winked at him.
His humor evaporated and he grew serious. “Donna, I'm very happy we're together.” He leaned in and gave her a peck on the lips and she smiled even wider at his admission.
“So am I, Peter.” A sudden thought occurred to her and she pulled back, frowning. “Wait a minute- somethin’ you said a moment ago. Seriously, do I have to look at photos or ID someone in a lineup? Appear in court, testify or somethin’?” She chewed her thumb in consternation.
“Naah,” he scoffed. “With blood and fingerprints, there'll be no need,” he assured her. There was no way he was going to involve her more than necessary in this business, if he could help it, and she visibly relaxed at his words.
“Oh, good,” she mumbled. “I mean, I would, if you needed me to,” she hastened to add, “but I dunno if I'd make a good witness, with my history, that's all.” She was too quiet for a moment before looking up and offering him a lopsided grin. “So, you mentioned a meal tonight? Do we need to go shoppin’? Can I help? After all,” she smirked, “I want your girlfriend to be impressed when she shows up.”
A slow, lazy smile spread across his face as he reached for her hand and gently stroked it with his thumb. “Oh, there's just you. I donae want anyone else. What do you want tonight?”
She considered the question momentarily, trying to decide between a serious or playful response and surprised herself when practical won out for once. “Oh, I like just about everything. Pasta sound good? Maybe with a little salad?” She was trying to think of something they could make quickly with little cleanup afterwards, she realized, so as not to interfere with what she really wanted and she blushed again.
“It just so happens I make a mean fettuccini...” he said, playfully enunciating the last word.
Donna brightened and leaned towards him happily, once again giving him an eyeful of creamy flesh. “Ooohh, that sounds wonderful!” she squealed. “Wonder if we can get some figs- I had them once in Italy with a little balsamic vinegar and some prosciutto...”
“I like the way you think,” he said. “Shall we go to the market after work?”
“I tell you what, love,” she offered, not quite realizing what she had just said. “I’ll get off work before you do. Why don’t I shop, then come round when you get off work?”
He pretended not to notice her casual endearment, but his heart swelled with that one word. She’d been using it a lot lately, and maybe, he hoped, it wasn’t just him who felt this thing between them growing bigger all the time. “I’ll see if I cannae get off a tad early, meet you at the market and drive you back to mine?” he suggested hopefully.
“Sounds marvelous,” she said, licking her bottom lip in anticipation.
“Well, then, that’s settled,” he said, rising from the table. “And now, it’s time to go.”
Donna collected the rubbish from their lunch and tossed it in the bin as Peter held her drink for her and resisted the urge to fish in his pockets for a sweet. As he moved to get the door, he held it open for a man laden down with multiple bags and cups on his way out.
“Thanks, DI,” the man said as he backed out of the door and headed towards the Metropolitan Police offices.
“No bother,” Peter replied, nodding absently as he waited for Donna to join him.
“Who was that?” Donna asked, taking his hand as he walked her back to her offices.
“Oh, one of the lab techs,” he said casually. “They’re always too impatient to wait for delivery, so they send one of the junior techs out to pick up. Kind of a rite of passage, actually,” he said, scratching at his ear.
***************
“Oi! What took you so long, then?” A man called from the back of the lab impatiently as Hamish Chapman walked in, juggling cups and weighed down with lunch.
“You try and carry five drinks, a soup, two sandwiches, two pies and a salad over all by your lonesome, and get it all here without incident, will you?” he called back indignantly. “Next time, you can get your own bloody lunch!”
Alec walked over to collect his order, smirking at the man’s cheek. This one had distinct possibilities, he thought. “Nah, keep the change,” he said, picking up his order and waving as Hamish fished in his pocket. Hamish nodded his thanks and started to distribute the rest of the food when he suddenly remembered something.
“Hey, Turner. Saw your friend over there,” he called back over his shoulder.
“Who’s that?” Alec asked, walking towards the lunch table.
“You know, that DI you do that Shakespeare thing with?” Hamish explained as the rest of the techs descended on him, snatching their lunch orders in a flurry. “He was having lunch with some dishy ginger.”
“Male or female?” Alec asked, and Hamish rolled his eyes and mimed a curvaceous figure with his hands.
“Just as I thought,” Alec said thoughtfully as he headed down to Homicide and Serious Crime Command. “Well, we’ll have to see about arranging to meet Lady Ginger, now, won’t we?”
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8.1 | Part 8.2 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12