Fic: The Art of Being Lost and Found (23/?), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Art of Being Lost and Found (23/?)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1934 (this part); (32,591 in total, so far)
Rating: blue cortina
Warnings: none here
Summary: Post 2.08. When the Guv goes missing, CID is saddled with an inept "interim" DCI. To find Gene, and the truth, Ray must team up with a hated enemy.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15
Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22
Hers was a small, one bedroom flat, sparsely furnished. It was relatively well kept but had no trace of its owner’s fiery personality.
“I don’t spend much time here,” she commented off Ray’s curious glance. “Mostly for sleeping. If the Gazette had a bed and shower, I wouldn’t even need this place,” she hung her coat on the rack by the door and walked to the kitchen. “I know it’s remiss of me to not offer you tea, but - no offense, detective - I’d like you out of here as quick as possible. Gene spends most of his time here in the bedroom, if you’d like to start there.”
“I think I’ll save that as a last resort,” Ray snorted and began picking his way through Jackie’s front room. He searched under the couch cushions, in the books on the coffee table, and in the cabinet under the telly.
“Any luck?” Jackie asked, leaning against the wall with a fag and a glass of red wine balanced in her right hand.
“Wouldn’t still be here, would I? Where’s your bathroom?”
“Down and to the left,” she pointed.
The bathroom was small and a quick search of the cabinets turned up nothing.
“Bedroom it is then,” Jackie smirked as he emerged empty-handed from the bathroom. She directed him down the hall.
“You know, this would go a lot faster if you put down that poofter drink and helped me.”
“Anything to get you out of my home sooner,” she grimaced, set her glass on the night stand, and started looking through the room along with Ray.
It had to be here somewhere. It was the only place left to search. He rifled through the wardrobe, searched under the bed, even flipped the mattress. Nothing. He went back to the front room and searched it all again. And the bathroom. Even the kitchen this time. Then he went back to the bedroom. Back to the bathroom. Back to the front room. Back to the kitchen. Nothing. Nothing at all.
“I don’t think it’s here,” Jackie sighed as they finished their first hour of fruitless searching.
“It is. We just haven’t found it yet. Do you have any loose floorboards? Tiles? Hidden drawers?” He yanked up the sofa cushions for the umpteenth time.
“DS Carling, whatever Gene did with it, he didn’t leave it with me. I’m sorry.”
“’Less you already took it,” Ray turned on her.
“Excuse me?” she huffed. “Just what are you suggesting?”
“You’re a reporter, Jackie. You know exactly what I’m suggesting so don’t play games with me. You found the letter and now you’re hiding it for yourself. Planning on making a big story out of it? Get yourself one o’ them big prizes for taking advantage of a great copper?”
Jackie slapped him across the face.
“I may not think highly of you, Sergeant Carling, and I may not think anything of the ridiculous fraternity you refer to as the police force. But don’t you dare suggest I’m using information to exploit him rather than find him. Gene and I may have our differences, but I want him found. Alive and unharmed. Now get the hell out of my home and do not come to me again unless you’ve actually found something useful.”
Ray was never one to hit a woman, so he turned on his heel, walked out of the flat, and punched a hole in the wall next to the door.
*
“Yes. Yes, that’s James, I’m afraid,” Shirley Kent dabbed at her eyes with Chris’ handkerchief. “When did you find him?”
“Monday morning,” Chris put his hand on her shoulder for comfort. “Took us some time to identify him,” he lied.
“I understand,” she nodded, unable to take her eyes off the cold body.
“If you like, we can take you upstairs and get you some tea, Mrs. Kent.”
“Alright. Yes. Thank you,” she nodded again, and allowed Chris to escort her out of the morgue.
“Ray? You coming?”
“Yeah,” he grumbled, tossing the sheet over Bresson’s head and following them out.
They settled Mrs. Kent in a corner of the canteen, making sure the plonks fussed over her and brought her anything she needed. As her shock gradually wore off, Chris began to ask the questions as Ray remained silent throughout.
“When’s the last time you saw your brother-in-law, Mrs. Kent?”
“Well, I, it must have been Sunday. Yes, Sunday,” she stated, her hands shaking as she picked up her tea cup. “I had offered to let him stay at the house, of course. The children have missed him dearly.”
“Children?” Chris asked.
“His niece and nephew. James has always been the favorite uncle,” she managed a smile before sipping her tea. “But James, he said he wanted some time alone. So, I took him home. I...I’ve been keeping the house for him, ever since...”
“Where is the house?”
“Salford. James is a professor at the university.”
“When were you planning on seeing him again?”
“Tuesday. Today. He had a meeting with his doctor. I was to drive him out to Fox Hollow. But, you came instead.” The tea cup rattled as she set it on the saucer.
“Did you try phoning him at all? Monday or...”
“I wanted to give him his privacy. He knew he could call me anytime, for anything. I thought he knew. He didn’t...” she cleared her throat. “Did he do this to himself?” she asked, looking down at her hands.
“No ma’am. He didn’t. Coroner...he confirmed James were attacked.”
Mrs. Kent quivered as she drew a deep breath and crossed herself.
“Bless,” she sighed.
“’Scuse me, ma’am,” Ray pushed himself away from the table and hurried out of the canteen.
He knew he should have stayed, but he couldn’t focus on the interview. He couldn’t focus on anything. His mind kept flicking images of Queen’s flat through his mind - places he didn’t check, places he should’ve checked, places he did check. He thought back to the search of the Guv’s house. Where else could he have put it? What if he had destroyed it? He would have to go back to Tyler. Would Tyler even remember anything useful?
“...Ray?”
Ray was shook from his reverie as Chris tapped him on the shoulder.
“Done then?” he asked as he watched a plonk escort Mrs. Kent from the canteen.
“Yeah,” Chris replied. “Last saw him Sunday afternoon. Don’t know anyone want to hurt him. Saw nowt suspicious.”
“Nothing to go on then,” he sighed. “What was it Oswald said?”
Chris flipped through the file.
“Blunt force trauma,” he read. “Blow to the back of the head.”
“No signs of a struggle? No fight?”
“Not on the body. Guess we should drive out to his house. Mrs. Kent gave me the address. I have it...uhm...” Chris searched his pockets, finally locating the scrap of paper in his front shirt pocket. “Here,” he held it out to Ray. “Should we grab Cartwright?”
“Carter has her tied up with that burglary. Been all over her since she took him out for that coffee.”
“She’s going to hate us, isn’t she?”
“Only for a bit. C’mon. Let’s go take that drive.”
*
“Lock’s broken,” Ray stated as he leaned down and examined the door. “Someone pushed right in.”
“Forced...entry,” Chris carefully jotted it down in his notepad.
Upon stepping inside the house, Ray saw nothing else of interest. No overturned tables. No dings in the wall. It looked just as it should.
“Must not have heard ‘em break in,” he told Chris as he looked around the house.
“Would fit with what Oswald said, wouldn’t it? No signs of a fight.”
“You check over there,” Ray pointed to the left. “I’ll start over here,” he added and walked down the hall. Bresson’s house was larger than the Guv’s but very moderate. There were books everywhere - probably the most expensive items in the place. Ray passed several framed photographs of Bresson and his family. Shirley Kent really had been keeping up with the housework. There wasn’t a lick of dust to be seen.
When Ray found his way to the kitchen, he immediately called for Chris.
“Should we call in forensics?” Chris asked as he surveyed the scene.
“MIght as well,” Ray sighed as he stared at the mess. There was one overturned chair, a spilt pot of tea, and a dried bloodstain, all on the floor. Ray walked into the room, careful not to disturb anything. “Looks like he were just sitting at his table then wham! Someone comes up from behind.”
“Why would anyone do that?” Chris wondered. “Do you think they were after something?”
“After this is cleaned up, let’s bring Mrs. Kent round, see if she notices anything missing.”
“But if they just wanted to rob him, why bother dumping the body?”
“Don’t know. But if it weren’t robbery, what else could it be?”
“Maybe we should find out more about that accident. You know, one what killed his wife and kiddie? Maybe someone involved in that wanted to hurt him, like.”
“Good thinking, Chris,” Ray pat him on the shoulder. “For now, let’s call the gay-boys in and have a look round the rest of the place.”
*
It took forensics an hour to reach the Bresson house, and another two to take their photos and get all their samples. By the time Ray and Chris could finally leave the house, it was punching out time. All Ray wanted to do was go to the Arms, get a few pints in, and sleep until morning. But, now that they were off the clock, it was the perfect time to follow up with Tyler about the letter.
Chris dozed lightly as Ray drove out to Fox Hollow. Ray knew the lad hadn’t been sleeping well since the Guv’s disappearance, maybe even before, so he resisted the urge to slap him in the shoulder and knock him awake. Maybe Chris would be awake enough later so that Ray could let Chris drive home and catch a bit of kip himself.
It was dark by the time they reached the asylum, but the sky was clear and the almost-full moon shone down brightly as they shuffled across the gravel and into the building. Ray couldn’t remember why he had been so nervous about this place before. It still wasn’t where he wanted to spend his time, but walking through that old, heavy door was becoming old hat now.
“Sam Williams,” he told the nurse on duty as they walked up to the counter. He knew he probably didn’t even have to say the name anymore.
“Just a moment, sir,” she replied, and scurried off.
Five minutes later she returned, not with Joe the Orderly, but Dr. Wynton herself.
“DS Carling. DS Skelton. I’m pleased you could make it.”
Ray and Chris glanced at each other then back to the doctor.
“What do you mean?” Ray asked.
“Didn’t you get my message? I’ve been trying to reach DCI Hunt, but your station kept telling me he was ‘indefinitely unavailable.’”
“We just came to ask Sam more questions about James Bresson,” Ray lied, examining the doctor’s confused expression. “What happened? He didn’t try to off himself again, did he?”
He felt Chris still beside him, remembering only too late that he hadn’t told his partner about that little incident.
“No, but he is in hospital.”
“I thought this was a hospital?” Ray asked.
“Not that sort of hospital. Sam was attacked in his room. We had to admit him to St. Catherine’s, ten miles away.”
Author: dak
Word Count: 1934 (this part); (32,591 in total, so far)
Rating: blue cortina
Warnings: none here
Summary: Post 2.08. When the Guv goes missing, CID is saddled with an inept "interim" DCI. To find Gene, and the truth, Ray must team up with a hated enemy.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15
Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22
Hers was a small, one bedroom flat, sparsely furnished. It was relatively well kept but had no trace of its owner’s fiery personality.
“I don’t spend much time here,” she commented off Ray’s curious glance. “Mostly for sleeping. If the Gazette had a bed and shower, I wouldn’t even need this place,” she hung her coat on the rack by the door and walked to the kitchen. “I know it’s remiss of me to not offer you tea, but - no offense, detective - I’d like you out of here as quick as possible. Gene spends most of his time here in the bedroom, if you’d like to start there.”
“I think I’ll save that as a last resort,” Ray snorted and began picking his way through Jackie’s front room. He searched under the couch cushions, in the books on the coffee table, and in the cabinet under the telly.
“Any luck?” Jackie asked, leaning against the wall with a fag and a glass of red wine balanced in her right hand.
“Wouldn’t still be here, would I? Where’s your bathroom?”
“Down and to the left,” she pointed.
The bathroom was small and a quick search of the cabinets turned up nothing.
“Bedroom it is then,” Jackie smirked as he emerged empty-handed from the bathroom. She directed him down the hall.
“You know, this would go a lot faster if you put down that poofter drink and helped me.”
“Anything to get you out of my home sooner,” she grimaced, set her glass on the night stand, and started looking through the room along with Ray.
It had to be here somewhere. It was the only place left to search. He rifled through the wardrobe, searched under the bed, even flipped the mattress. Nothing. He went back to the front room and searched it all again. And the bathroom. Even the kitchen this time. Then he went back to the bedroom. Back to the bathroom. Back to the front room. Back to the kitchen. Nothing. Nothing at all.
“I don’t think it’s here,” Jackie sighed as they finished their first hour of fruitless searching.
“It is. We just haven’t found it yet. Do you have any loose floorboards? Tiles? Hidden drawers?” He yanked up the sofa cushions for the umpteenth time.
“DS Carling, whatever Gene did with it, he didn’t leave it with me. I’m sorry.”
“’Less you already took it,” Ray turned on her.
“Excuse me?” she huffed. “Just what are you suggesting?”
“You’re a reporter, Jackie. You know exactly what I’m suggesting so don’t play games with me. You found the letter and now you’re hiding it for yourself. Planning on making a big story out of it? Get yourself one o’ them big prizes for taking advantage of a great copper?”
Jackie slapped him across the face.
“I may not think highly of you, Sergeant Carling, and I may not think anything of the ridiculous fraternity you refer to as the police force. But don’t you dare suggest I’m using information to exploit him rather than find him. Gene and I may have our differences, but I want him found. Alive and unharmed. Now get the hell out of my home and do not come to me again unless you’ve actually found something useful.”
Ray was never one to hit a woman, so he turned on his heel, walked out of the flat, and punched a hole in the wall next to the door.
*
“Yes. Yes, that’s James, I’m afraid,” Shirley Kent dabbed at her eyes with Chris’ handkerchief. “When did you find him?”
“Monday morning,” Chris put his hand on her shoulder for comfort. “Took us some time to identify him,” he lied.
“I understand,” she nodded, unable to take her eyes off the cold body.
“If you like, we can take you upstairs and get you some tea, Mrs. Kent.”
“Alright. Yes. Thank you,” she nodded again, and allowed Chris to escort her out of the morgue.
“Ray? You coming?”
“Yeah,” he grumbled, tossing the sheet over Bresson’s head and following them out.
They settled Mrs. Kent in a corner of the canteen, making sure the plonks fussed over her and brought her anything she needed. As her shock gradually wore off, Chris began to ask the questions as Ray remained silent throughout.
“When’s the last time you saw your brother-in-law, Mrs. Kent?”
“Well, I, it must have been Sunday. Yes, Sunday,” she stated, her hands shaking as she picked up her tea cup. “I had offered to let him stay at the house, of course. The children have missed him dearly.”
“Children?” Chris asked.
“His niece and nephew. James has always been the favorite uncle,” she managed a smile before sipping her tea. “But James, he said he wanted some time alone. So, I took him home. I...I’ve been keeping the house for him, ever since...”
“Where is the house?”
“Salford. James is a professor at the university.”
“When were you planning on seeing him again?”
“Tuesday. Today. He had a meeting with his doctor. I was to drive him out to Fox Hollow. But, you came instead.” The tea cup rattled as she set it on the saucer.
“Did you try phoning him at all? Monday or...”
“I wanted to give him his privacy. He knew he could call me anytime, for anything. I thought he knew. He didn’t...” she cleared her throat. “Did he do this to himself?” she asked, looking down at her hands.
“No ma’am. He didn’t. Coroner...he confirmed James were attacked.”
Mrs. Kent quivered as she drew a deep breath and crossed herself.
“Bless,” she sighed.
“’Scuse me, ma’am,” Ray pushed himself away from the table and hurried out of the canteen.
He knew he should have stayed, but he couldn’t focus on the interview. He couldn’t focus on anything. His mind kept flicking images of Queen’s flat through his mind - places he didn’t check, places he should’ve checked, places he did check. He thought back to the search of the Guv’s house. Where else could he have put it? What if he had destroyed it? He would have to go back to Tyler. Would Tyler even remember anything useful?
“...Ray?”
Ray was shook from his reverie as Chris tapped him on the shoulder.
“Done then?” he asked as he watched a plonk escort Mrs. Kent from the canteen.
“Yeah,” Chris replied. “Last saw him Sunday afternoon. Don’t know anyone want to hurt him. Saw nowt suspicious.”
“Nothing to go on then,” he sighed. “What was it Oswald said?”
Chris flipped through the file.
“Blunt force trauma,” he read. “Blow to the back of the head.”
“No signs of a struggle? No fight?”
“Not on the body. Guess we should drive out to his house. Mrs. Kent gave me the address. I have it...uhm...” Chris searched his pockets, finally locating the scrap of paper in his front shirt pocket. “Here,” he held it out to Ray. “Should we grab Cartwright?”
“Carter has her tied up with that burglary. Been all over her since she took him out for that coffee.”
“She’s going to hate us, isn’t she?”
“Only for a bit. C’mon. Let’s go take that drive.”
*
“Lock’s broken,” Ray stated as he leaned down and examined the door. “Someone pushed right in.”
“Forced...entry,” Chris carefully jotted it down in his notepad.
Upon stepping inside the house, Ray saw nothing else of interest. No overturned tables. No dings in the wall. It looked just as it should.
“Must not have heard ‘em break in,” he told Chris as he looked around the house.
“Would fit with what Oswald said, wouldn’t it? No signs of a fight.”
“You check over there,” Ray pointed to the left. “I’ll start over here,” he added and walked down the hall. Bresson’s house was larger than the Guv’s but very moderate. There were books everywhere - probably the most expensive items in the place. Ray passed several framed photographs of Bresson and his family. Shirley Kent really had been keeping up with the housework. There wasn’t a lick of dust to be seen.
When Ray found his way to the kitchen, he immediately called for Chris.
“Should we call in forensics?” Chris asked as he surveyed the scene.
“MIght as well,” Ray sighed as he stared at the mess. There was one overturned chair, a spilt pot of tea, and a dried bloodstain, all on the floor. Ray walked into the room, careful not to disturb anything. “Looks like he were just sitting at his table then wham! Someone comes up from behind.”
“Why would anyone do that?” Chris wondered. “Do you think they were after something?”
“After this is cleaned up, let’s bring Mrs. Kent round, see if she notices anything missing.”
“But if they just wanted to rob him, why bother dumping the body?”
“Don’t know. But if it weren’t robbery, what else could it be?”
“Maybe we should find out more about that accident. You know, one what killed his wife and kiddie? Maybe someone involved in that wanted to hurt him, like.”
“Good thinking, Chris,” Ray pat him on the shoulder. “For now, let’s call the gay-boys in and have a look round the rest of the place.”
*
It took forensics an hour to reach the Bresson house, and another two to take their photos and get all their samples. By the time Ray and Chris could finally leave the house, it was punching out time. All Ray wanted to do was go to the Arms, get a few pints in, and sleep until morning. But, now that they were off the clock, it was the perfect time to follow up with Tyler about the letter.
Chris dozed lightly as Ray drove out to Fox Hollow. Ray knew the lad hadn’t been sleeping well since the Guv’s disappearance, maybe even before, so he resisted the urge to slap him in the shoulder and knock him awake. Maybe Chris would be awake enough later so that Ray could let Chris drive home and catch a bit of kip himself.
It was dark by the time they reached the asylum, but the sky was clear and the almost-full moon shone down brightly as they shuffled across the gravel and into the building. Ray couldn’t remember why he had been so nervous about this place before. It still wasn’t where he wanted to spend his time, but walking through that old, heavy door was becoming old hat now.
“Sam Williams,” he told the nurse on duty as they walked up to the counter. He knew he probably didn’t even have to say the name anymore.
“Just a moment, sir,” she replied, and scurried off.
Five minutes later she returned, not with Joe the Orderly, but Dr. Wynton herself.
“DS Carling. DS Skelton. I’m pleased you could make it.”
Ray and Chris glanced at each other then back to the doctor.
“What do you mean?” Ray asked.
“Didn’t you get my message? I’ve been trying to reach DCI Hunt, but your station kept telling me he was ‘indefinitely unavailable.’”
“We just came to ask Sam more questions about James Bresson,” Ray lied, examining the doctor’s confused expression. “What happened? He didn’t try to off himself again, did he?”
He felt Chris still beside him, remembering only too late that he hadn’t told his partner about that little incident.
“No, but he is in hospital.”
“I thought this was a hospital?” Ray asked.
“Not that sort of hospital. Sam was attacked in his room. We had to admit him to St. Catherine’s, ten miles away.”