Fic: The Philanderer and the Thief (7/11), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Philanderer and the Thief (7/11)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1873 this part; approx 20,000 overall
Rating: blue cortina
Genre: buddy cop, humor, mystery
Warnings: language, mild violence
Summary: Fed up with their constant bickering, Gene sends Sam and Ray out to a remote village to stop a local crime spree. Will they solve the case before they kill each other, or will someone else get there first?
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
Ray waited across the street for the suspect to leave his girlfriend’s flat. According to Corinne, her brother had returned to town yesterday morning, bringing that bundle of clothes with him. As Ray watched the bumbling man stumble out of the small building, he wondered how Tyler could let a scrote like that get the best of him.
Ray followed as the man took a turn away from the main street. In a place where strangers couldn’t hide, Ray was thankful the louse was keeping to the back streets. Just as the suspect was turning another corner, Ray came up from behind and slammed him into the nearest brick wall.
“Hello, Roger,” he sneered, keeping the lad’s arm pinned behind his back.
“Ow! Wha’d yeh do that for?” He squirmed. Ray ignored the question and continued with his own, pressing Roger’s face harder into the wall.
“Where’d you get the jacket?” He hissed.
“What jacket? What yeh on about? And who are yeh?”
“Leather jacket. Black. One you gave your sister. One with a detective’s warrant card in the pocket.” Ray pulled Roger back then slammed him into the wall again, just for good measure.
“I don’t remember any jacket! Honest! I swears it!” Roger trembled.
“You think I believe you?” Ray laughed darkly, then punched him in the kidney.
“I don’t even know yeh,” Roger cried.
“Bet you know me DI. Scrawny bloke. Short hair?”
“Never saw anyone like...”
Ray kidney punched him again.
“Bloke you kidnapped! Now tell me where he is!”
“I never kidnapped no one!”
Ray didn’t like that answer, so he punched Roger again, this time in the gut.
“You brought your sister that batch o’ clothes. You brought her the ponce’s jacket. Now where’d you get it? Find it on the ground or did you pry it off his cold, dead body?”
“Dead body? I never seen a dead body! Not in me whole life. Honest!” Roger whimpered.
“Then where’d you get the jacket?”
“I don’t know any jacket! I swears!” He begged. “I’ve been with me girl.”
“For two days? Where were you two days ago?”
“Two days? I...I were on me way back. Back from Liverpool. I were hauling a load of sheep out there for me dad.”
“Then you weren’t with your girl, were you?” Ray confirmed.
“No. S’pose not. Not then. But soon’s I came back.”
“And anyone see you when you were driving, eh?”
“No. No I drive by meself.”
“Then today’s your lucky day, Roger. You get to come with me.” Ray grabbed the bruised man by the collar and yanked him off the ground, keeping him secure with an armed pinned tightly to the back.
“You’re not goin’ to kill me, are yeh? I don’t want to die!” Roger continued to cry as he was walked to the main street. Ray rolled his eyes.
“Course I won’t kill you. But I may lock you up for a very long time,” he added with a smile. That smile quickly disappeared, however, as he and his new detainee stepped foot on the main street and a bloodcurdling cry echoed through the town.
“There he is! That’s him! Oh, Sergeant Davies, that’s the...the...vagabond!”
Corinne was standing in the middle of the unpaved road, a hand draped across her forehead in dramatic fashion.
“Which one? Four or the moustached bloke?” The man beside her asked. He looked to be about the Guv’s age, though he was much shorter and fatter. He was dressed in plainclothes, the only sign he was a police office the badge haphazardly pinned to his chest.
“Not me brother,” she heatedly quipped, forgetting her apparent distress and smacking Sgt. Davies on the arm. “The one with the moustache! Oh yes, he’s the one,” she reverted to tears again.
“Alright son, you’re coming with me,” the officer stepped forward.
“Me? What did I do?” Ray stammered. “Corinne, what’s this about?”
“Oh, don’t you dare!” She cried. “You know what you did!” She huffed heavily.
“What did he do?” Davies asked her.
“He beat me up,” Roger squeaked, still held in Ray’s grip. Everyone ignored him.
“He took advantage of me!” Corinne squealed, stomping her foot. “He got me pissed, then...then...had his wretched way with me,” she hissed, lowering her voice.
“I did not!” Ray shouted, dropping his suspect. Roger fell to the ground and remained where he sat.
“Were you with Corinne at the Shepherd and Staff last night?” Davies asked.
“Yeah, but...”
“And were you drinking?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t go home with her!”
“No. I went home with him!” Corinne jabbed a finger at him.
“I don’t even have a home here. I’m staying at the Inn!” Ray defended himself.
“Think it best you came with me, son,” Davies said sternly, stepping forward with a pair of cuffs. “Think about what you’ve done.”
“But I didn’t do anything!” Ray shouted as the cuffs snapped around his wrists.
“No use lying now,” Corinne sneered. “Everyone here’ll know what you did, you...you...philanderer!”
“But...”
Ray’s retort was cut off as Davies shoved him towards the station.
“You should’ve thought of the consequences ‘fore you stepped out with her,” Davies said. “A night or two in our fine cells, that should set you straight.”
*
“Can you talk to me, please? I don’t even know how long I’ve been down here. Just tell me what you want. I’m a police officer, you know. This is a serious offense!”
Sam was shouting himself hoarse, but he didn’t know how else to get his captor’s attention. He truly didn’t know how long he’d been down in the cellar, but it was long enough that he’d relented and eaten the stale bread which had been tossed his way.
His shoulder was aching form the fall, but luckily wasn’t broken or dislocated. He had tried escaping the dank cellar several times since then, always unsuccessful. Now all his hopes rested on someone opening that surprisingly strong door.
“Please. I need something to drink. You don’t want me to die down here, do you? You don’t want to be a murderer!”
Sam knew someone was in the house above him. He had heard footsteps pacing above him for hours. He kept shouting.
“Water. I’d just like some water. Please!”
He waited. Finally, he heard water rushing through the old pipes and the footsteps approaching the door. Sam held his position. He waited. The door cracked open. Someone took one step forward, then tumbled down the short flight of stairs.
Once the body was on the ground, Sam flew up the staircase, being sure to avoid the trip wire he’d set up at the top using fishing line he’d found on a cellar shelf.
Inside the house, Sam’s eyes struggled to adjust to the bright light. He squinted as he darted through the yellow-painted kitchen he found himself in, and found his way out the nearest door.
Outside, the Cortina was still sitting there, awaiting her own rescue. Sam didn’t have time to examine her then, but she didn’t have any obvious damage. He raced to the driver’s side, flung open the door, and slid into the seat, only to realize he had no keys.
“Shit! Those damn keys!”
Leaping out of the car, he looked around the barren landscape and realized there were no other structures in sight. If he was going to escape safely, he would have to drive.
Sam raced back into the house, hoping he could spot the familiar keys quickly. As he ran back into the kitchen, he didn’t see the keys. What he did see was a very angry man with a bloody lip. The man said nothing but launched himself at Sam with a growl.
Sam dodged out of the way, allowing the man to collide with the kitchen counter. He kept his eyes on his attacker but still tried to search for the Cortina’s keys. The man recovered quickly from his miss, though, and went for Sam again. This time, the kitchen table prevented Sam from successfully dodging him a second time.
The two collided and crashed to the floor. Though he was tired and hungry, Sam still managed to get the upper hand on his slimmer attacker and soon had him pinned to the tiled floor. He was about to demand his name and what he was doing locking up Detective Inspectors in his cellar, when a blow to the back of his head caught him off guard.
He didn’t lose consciousness but the grip on his assailant, and, dizzy from the blow, Sam was soon pinned himself. His eyes lost focus and he only caught a glimpse of two blurry figures before his brain decided to quit keeping him awake.
He wasn’t sure how long he was out this time, but when he came to, he wasn’t in the cellar. He was, however, tied to a chair with a gag stuffed in his mouth. As his eyes focused, Sam realized he was still in the yellow kitchen, and that there were two people in the room.
“...trying to break into my cellar, Sergeant,” the slimmer one said. “Bet he’s part of the gang what’s been stealing round here, don’t you think?”
“Well, I’ve never seen him before. And if he was trying to rob you, then it does seem likely, Kenley.”
Sam grunted through his gag. The man called “Sergeant” removed the dirty handkerchief from Sam’s mouth.
“I wasn’t stealing anything!”
The gag was shoved back in.
“He says he wasn’t stealing anything,” Sergeant said.
“Course he’s lying,” the one called Kenley huffed.
Sam angrily grunted again. Sergeant removed the gag.
“I’m not lying. I’m a police officer.”
The gag was shoved back in.
“He says he’s a police officer,” Sergeant said.
“Where’s his warrant card, then?” Kenley asked.
The gag was removed.
“Where’s your warrant card, then?” Sergeant asked.
“It’s in my jacket pocket, which...” Sam looked down at his days old polyester shirt, “...which is missing,” he sighed.
The gag was shoved back in.
“Well, guess it’s best I get him to the station, then. Sort this out.”
“Whatever you think is best, sir,” Kenley nodded. “Won’t have any thieves in my house,” the man glared. Sam glared back, but was unable to say anything as his wrists were untied then handcuffed behind his back.
Sam glared longingly at the Cortina as he was guided past her and into an old car he’d never seen before. At least he knew she was okay.
*
The heavy iron-barred door was slid back and the second man pushed inside. He turned round so his cuffs could be removed, then hastily ripped the dirty handkerchief from his mouth. He paced a few seconds before sitting down next to Ray.
“So, you’re not dead,” Ray said.
“No,” Sam scowled.
“What you in for?”
“Theft,” Sam replied, then paused. “You?” He asked.
“Philandering,” Ray answered, then paused. “I hate the country,” he said.
“Me, too,” Tyler was quick to reply.
They sat there silently for a few minutes, each staring into the otherwise empty station.
“So,” Ray began. “You know what the Guv said, ‘bout us working together?”
“Yeah?”
“Think we should try it? Temporarily.”
“Hell, yes. Temporarily. Of course.”
“Of course.”
Author: dak
Word Count: 1873 this part; approx 20,000 overall
Rating: blue cortina
Genre: buddy cop, humor, mystery
Warnings: language, mild violence
Summary: Fed up with their constant bickering, Gene sends Sam and Ray out to a remote village to stop a local crime spree. Will they solve the case before they kill each other, or will someone else get there first?
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
Ray waited across the street for the suspect to leave his girlfriend’s flat. According to Corinne, her brother had returned to town yesterday morning, bringing that bundle of clothes with him. As Ray watched the bumbling man stumble out of the small building, he wondered how Tyler could let a scrote like that get the best of him.
Ray followed as the man took a turn away from the main street. In a place where strangers couldn’t hide, Ray was thankful the louse was keeping to the back streets. Just as the suspect was turning another corner, Ray came up from behind and slammed him into the nearest brick wall.
“Hello, Roger,” he sneered, keeping the lad’s arm pinned behind his back.
“Ow! Wha’d yeh do that for?” He squirmed. Ray ignored the question and continued with his own, pressing Roger’s face harder into the wall.
“Where’d you get the jacket?” He hissed.
“What jacket? What yeh on about? And who are yeh?”
“Leather jacket. Black. One you gave your sister. One with a detective’s warrant card in the pocket.” Ray pulled Roger back then slammed him into the wall again, just for good measure.
“I don’t remember any jacket! Honest! I swears it!” Roger trembled.
“You think I believe you?” Ray laughed darkly, then punched him in the kidney.
“I don’t even know yeh,” Roger cried.
“Bet you know me DI. Scrawny bloke. Short hair?”
“Never saw anyone like...”
Ray kidney punched him again.
“Bloke you kidnapped! Now tell me where he is!”
“I never kidnapped no one!”
Ray didn’t like that answer, so he punched Roger again, this time in the gut.
“You brought your sister that batch o’ clothes. You brought her the ponce’s jacket. Now where’d you get it? Find it on the ground or did you pry it off his cold, dead body?”
“Dead body? I never seen a dead body! Not in me whole life. Honest!” Roger whimpered.
“Then where’d you get the jacket?”
“I don’t know any jacket! I swears!” He begged. “I’ve been with me girl.”
“For two days? Where were you two days ago?”
“Two days? I...I were on me way back. Back from Liverpool. I were hauling a load of sheep out there for me dad.”
“Then you weren’t with your girl, were you?” Ray confirmed.
“No. S’pose not. Not then. But soon’s I came back.”
“And anyone see you when you were driving, eh?”
“No. No I drive by meself.”
“Then today’s your lucky day, Roger. You get to come with me.” Ray grabbed the bruised man by the collar and yanked him off the ground, keeping him secure with an armed pinned tightly to the back.
“You’re not goin’ to kill me, are yeh? I don’t want to die!” Roger continued to cry as he was walked to the main street. Ray rolled his eyes.
“Course I won’t kill you. But I may lock you up for a very long time,” he added with a smile. That smile quickly disappeared, however, as he and his new detainee stepped foot on the main street and a bloodcurdling cry echoed through the town.
“There he is! That’s him! Oh, Sergeant Davies, that’s the...the...vagabond!”
Corinne was standing in the middle of the unpaved road, a hand draped across her forehead in dramatic fashion.
“Which one? Four or the moustached bloke?” The man beside her asked. He looked to be about the Guv’s age, though he was much shorter and fatter. He was dressed in plainclothes, the only sign he was a police office the badge haphazardly pinned to his chest.
“Not me brother,” she heatedly quipped, forgetting her apparent distress and smacking Sgt. Davies on the arm. “The one with the moustache! Oh yes, he’s the one,” she reverted to tears again.
“Alright son, you’re coming with me,” the officer stepped forward.
“Me? What did I do?” Ray stammered. “Corinne, what’s this about?”
“Oh, don’t you dare!” She cried. “You know what you did!” She huffed heavily.
“What did he do?” Davies asked her.
“He beat me up,” Roger squeaked, still held in Ray’s grip. Everyone ignored him.
“He took advantage of me!” Corinne squealed, stomping her foot. “He got me pissed, then...then...had his wretched way with me,” she hissed, lowering her voice.
“I did not!” Ray shouted, dropping his suspect. Roger fell to the ground and remained where he sat.
“Were you with Corinne at the Shepherd and Staff last night?” Davies asked.
“Yeah, but...”
“And were you drinking?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t go home with her!”
“No. I went home with him!” Corinne jabbed a finger at him.
“I don’t even have a home here. I’m staying at the Inn!” Ray defended himself.
“Think it best you came with me, son,” Davies said sternly, stepping forward with a pair of cuffs. “Think about what you’ve done.”
“But I didn’t do anything!” Ray shouted as the cuffs snapped around his wrists.
“No use lying now,” Corinne sneered. “Everyone here’ll know what you did, you...you...philanderer!”
“But...”
Ray’s retort was cut off as Davies shoved him towards the station.
“You should’ve thought of the consequences ‘fore you stepped out with her,” Davies said. “A night or two in our fine cells, that should set you straight.”
*
“Can you talk to me, please? I don’t even know how long I’ve been down here. Just tell me what you want. I’m a police officer, you know. This is a serious offense!”
Sam was shouting himself hoarse, but he didn’t know how else to get his captor’s attention. He truly didn’t know how long he’d been down in the cellar, but it was long enough that he’d relented and eaten the stale bread which had been tossed his way.
His shoulder was aching form the fall, but luckily wasn’t broken or dislocated. He had tried escaping the dank cellar several times since then, always unsuccessful. Now all his hopes rested on someone opening that surprisingly strong door.
“Please. I need something to drink. You don’t want me to die down here, do you? You don’t want to be a murderer!”
Sam knew someone was in the house above him. He had heard footsteps pacing above him for hours. He kept shouting.
“Water. I’d just like some water. Please!”
He waited. Finally, he heard water rushing through the old pipes and the footsteps approaching the door. Sam held his position. He waited. The door cracked open. Someone took one step forward, then tumbled down the short flight of stairs.
Once the body was on the ground, Sam flew up the staircase, being sure to avoid the trip wire he’d set up at the top using fishing line he’d found on a cellar shelf.
Inside the house, Sam’s eyes struggled to adjust to the bright light. He squinted as he darted through the yellow-painted kitchen he found himself in, and found his way out the nearest door.
Outside, the Cortina was still sitting there, awaiting her own rescue. Sam didn’t have time to examine her then, but she didn’t have any obvious damage. He raced to the driver’s side, flung open the door, and slid into the seat, only to realize he had no keys.
“Shit! Those damn keys!”
Leaping out of the car, he looked around the barren landscape and realized there were no other structures in sight. If he was going to escape safely, he would have to drive.
Sam raced back into the house, hoping he could spot the familiar keys quickly. As he ran back into the kitchen, he didn’t see the keys. What he did see was a very angry man with a bloody lip. The man said nothing but launched himself at Sam with a growl.
Sam dodged out of the way, allowing the man to collide with the kitchen counter. He kept his eyes on his attacker but still tried to search for the Cortina’s keys. The man recovered quickly from his miss, though, and went for Sam again. This time, the kitchen table prevented Sam from successfully dodging him a second time.
The two collided and crashed to the floor. Though he was tired and hungry, Sam still managed to get the upper hand on his slimmer attacker and soon had him pinned to the tiled floor. He was about to demand his name and what he was doing locking up Detective Inspectors in his cellar, when a blow to the back of his head caught him off guard.
He didn’t lose consciousness but the grip on his assailant, and, dizzy from the blow, Sam was soon pinned himself. His eyes lost focus and he only caught a glimpse of two blurry figures before his brain decided to quit keeping him awake.
He wasn’t sure how long he was out this time, but when he came to, he wasn’t in the cellar. He was, however, tied to a chair with a gag stuffed in his mouth. As his eyes focused, Sam realized he was still in the yellow kitchen, and that there were two people in the room.
“...trying to break into my cellar, Sergeant,” the slimmer one said. “Bet he’s part of the gang what’s been stealing round here, don’t you think?”
“Well, I’ve never seen him before. And if he was trying to rob you, then it does seem likely, Kenley.”
Sam grunted through his gag. The man called “Sergeant” removed the dirty handkerchief from Sam’s mouth.
“I wasn’t stealing anything!”
The gag was shoved back in.
“He says he wasn’t stealing anything,” Sergeant said.
“Course he’s lying,” the one called Kenley huffed.
Sam angrily grunted again. Sergeant removed the gag.
“I’m not lying. I’m a police officer.”
The gag was shoved back in.
“He says he’s a police officer,” Sergeant said.
“Where’s his warrant card, then?” Kenley asked.
The gag was removed.
“Where’s your warrant card, then?” Sergeant asked.
“It’s in my jacket pocket, which...” Sam looked down at his days old polyester shirt, “...which is missing,” he sighed.
The gag was shoved back in.
“Well, guess it’s best I get him to the station, then. Sort this out.”
“Whatever you think is best, sir,” Kenley nodded. “Won’t have any thieves in my house,” the man glared. Sam glared back, but was unable to say anything as his wrists were untied then handcuffed behind his back.
Sam glared longingly at the Cortina as he was guided past her and into an old car he’d never seen before. At least he knew she was okay.
*
The heavy iron-barred door was slid back and the second man pushed inside. He turned round so his cuffs could be removed, then hastily ripped the dirty handkerchief from his mouth. He paced a few seconds before sitting down next to Ray.
“So, you’re not dead,” Ray said.
“No,” Sam scowled.
“What you in for?”
“Theft,” Sam replied, then paused. “You?” He asked.
“Philandering,” Ray answered, then paused. “I hate the country,” he said.
“Me, too,” Tyler was quick to reply.
They sat there silently for a few minutes, each staring into the otherwise empty station.
“So,” Ray began. “You know what the Guv said, ‘bout us working together?”
“Yeah?”
“Think we should try it? Temporarily.”
“Hell, yes. Temporarily. Of course.”
“Of course.”