Fic: Steady As She Goes (8/86)
Title: Steady As She Goes (8/86)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1992
Rating: Blue Cortina
Warnings: some angst, mild swearing
Summary: One step forward, two steps back.
Disclaimer. I wish.
A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Nothing else to report, I guess. I hope you enjoy!
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 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53 Part 54 Part 55 Part 56 Part 57 Part 58 Part 59 Part 60 Part 61 Part 62 Part 63 Part 64 Part 65 Part 66 Part 67 Part 68 Part 69 Part 70 Part 71 Part 72 Part 73 Part 74 Part 75 Part 76 Part 77 Part 78 Part 79 Part 80 Part 81 Part 82 Part 83 Part 84 Part 85 Part 86
“Just take your time, Cindy. I know it’s hard, but if you could think of anything, even the smallest detail, it might help us find out what happened to Dom.”
Annie smiled at the nervous girl in front of her. Cindy Garrett, Dom’s girlfriend, could only be about seventeen, Annie guessed, and she still wore her hair in pigtails which made her look even younger. Annie had hated to be the one to tell Cindy her boyfriend was dead, but she and Dom’s mother apparently weren’t on speaking terms.
“I-I though he’d jus’ stood me up, like. On account of his mum an’ I, you know, fightin’ all the time,” Cindy sniffed. Annie offered her another tissue. “I wished him dead! When he din’t show...Oh God, s’my fault innit?”
“You were just angry, Cindy. You didn’t mean it. Now, if you knew anything that could help us...did he have any enemies? Get in fights a lot?”
Annie had been sitting in the Garrett’s living room for over an hour now, three-quarters of it spent trying to get little Cindy to stop sobbing hysterically. Annie didn’t want to give up, return to the Guv with nothing when he was already down a detective and a half, what with Chris shot and Sam severely hung over, but she was afraid Cindy Garrett was leading straight to a dead end.
“Well...”Cindy hiccupped, “There was this one bloke. A mate Dom had in school or summat.”
“Yes? Go on,” Annie gently prodded.
“I knew most a Dom’s mates, hung out together. But, this one...din’t want me near ‘im. Would never say why. I-I think he might’ve been scared of ‘im.”
Annie had her pen poised over her notebook. “What was his name?”
“Harry. Or Harvey. Yeah, that was it. One of those two.”
“What about a last name?”
“Uhm...” Annie waited patiently while Cindy twisted her hair around her finger. “It was weird. Almost French-like...Quibble? Quibell? That had to be it.”
Annie jotted down the uncertain name and took as detailed a description as Cindy could offer. She left the house, promising to update Cindy and her parents regarding any arrest. Annie looked back over her notes as she walked down the street. It wasn’t much, but maybe the Guv and Sam were having better luck.
*
Beep. Beep. He’s stable now, but I’m afraid his brain was denied a significant amount of oxygen when the trach tube was disconnected. Beep. Beep. We’ll have to do another CAT scan, see if there was any lasting injury. Beep. Beep. Of course, we won’t know the true extent of any damage until Sam wakes up. Beep. Beep.
“What? You mean he might not come ‘round?”
“He has a concussion, Mr. Hunt. A severe one that was left untreated for an unreasonable amount of time. Honestly, you’ll be incredibly lucky if Mr. Tyler doesn’t fall into a coma.”
Sam couldn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t move his legs or arms, but when he heard the word “coma” he couldn’t stop himself from laughing quietly.
“People in comas don’ tend to giggle, do they Doctor.”
“No. No not usually. Mr. Tyler? Mr. Tyler, can you hear me? My name is Doctor...” The unseen doctor’s calming voice soothed Sam back to sleep.
“Oi! Gladys! You daft sod! Wake the hell up ‘fore I ‘ave to put you outta commission an’ make Ray me new DI!”
Sam opened his eyes as quickly as his body would allow, only to be rewarded by a very close and personal view of Gene Hunt’s unshaven face.
“ ‘Bout ruddy time.” Gene leaned back from the bed and lit a cigarette. Sam took the opportunity to adjust his eyes to his new surroundings.
He was in a hospital, in a hospital bed, in a hospital gown, with a hospital IV sticking out of his arm. It was also still 1973. Sam sighed as the doctor shined a small light into each of his eyes, checking their responsiveness.
“What happened?” His throat was dry and cracked and his head felt as if a bomb was continuously going off inside his skull.
“You passed out tailing a suspect. Was gonna keep goin’ after ‘im meself, but you since you looked like death warmed over figured it was best not to leave you there on your own. Much as I wanted to, mind you.”
The doctor put his hands in his pockets and addressed Sam firmly. “You have a very serious concussion, Mr. Tyler. One that would have displayed obvious symptoms. Before fainting did you experience any nausea, vomiting, headaches, light-headedness?”
Sam didn’t have to think hard. “Yeah, actually.”
“Which ones?”
“All of them.”
The doctor made a note on Sam’s chart and sighed condescendingly. “And you didn’t think it might be a good idea to go to hospital? Or even your GP?”
“I,” Sam was almost too embarrased to say it. “I thought it was just a hangover.”
“Hm,” was all the doctor would say. He set the chart back down. “I want you to stay here overnight for observation. Make sure there are no further complications.” The doctor took a syringe from his pocket and injected the contents into Sam’s arm. “Oh, you also have two cracked ribs. This should help. Have a nice day, Mr. Tyler. Mr. Hunt.” The doctor rushed off, leaving Sam and Gene alone. Sam tried to sit up, and soon realized that wasn’t going to work.
“You know, Sammy, when I said we were all goin’ to the hospital to see Chris, I din’t mean you should get admitted yourself.”
“Sorry.”
“Again? That’s three in one day. A record for you, Tyler.”
Sam squeezed his eyes tight, trying to concentrate. “I told you I wasn’t that drunk… How’d I get a concussion?”
“Like you said before. Must’ve been Ray.”
Sam reached up, felt the back of his head, and found the source of his pain as his fingers ran over a large bump he hadn’t even noticed before. “I was only angry before. I actually don’t remember Ray hitting me in the head. The face, but not the head. And certainly not the back. He made more of a frontal assault.” Sam dropped his hands at his sides, the urge to sleep quickly consuming him, though he did his best to fight it, forcing his eyelids open. “The man at the store, did you get him?”
“No, thanks to your spastic attack, but the owner’d seen ‘im before. Said ‘e was an old friend of our dead bloke.”
Sam blinked his eyes open again. “This friend have a name?”
“Old man din’t know it, but Ray shouldn’t have trouble trackin’ ‘im down.”
Sam wasn’t able to open his eyes this time. “Thank ‘im, for the ribs, for me.”
“Thank ‘im yourself when you get outta here tomorrow.”
Sam was about to pass out when another thought entered his bruised mind. His eyes snapped open. “Chris. How’s Chris doing...”
“He’s here somewhere. Another ward. Still doin’ okay. We should move the CID office ‘ere since the team seems to love it so much.” Sam’s eyelids slowly dropped again. “Jus’ worry ‘bout yourself right now. Shouldn’t be too hard for you, eh?” Gene placed a comforting hand on the battered man’s shoulder. “An’ tomorrow we’ll worry about who gave you that lump on the head in the firs’ place.”
“Must’ve been that man...” Sam mumbled as he fell asleep.
Gene’s ears perked up. “What man?” Sam didn’t answer. Gene gently shook him. “What man, Sammy?”
“Th’man by th’canal...”
Gene’s hand froze, squeezing Sam’s shoulder. “Sam, you said you din’t go by the canal.”
“I did. Jus’...din’t...remember...” Sam’s head lolled to the side.
“Sam? Tyler? What do you mean you went to the canal? Which part? When?” To Gene’s great frustration, Sam Tyler was completely and utterly unconscious. Again.
“Oh, looks like the morphine the doc gave ‘im finally kicked in. Poor lad,” an old nurse sympathetically remarked as she adjusted the pillows behind Sam’s head. Gene refused to move, staring disbelievingly into Sam’s face, willing him to wake up and take back every word he just said. “ “Fraid there’s nowt he can do for yeh now, sir. This lad’ll be out for a good long while now. Couple hours at least, what with all the drugs he’s got runnin’ through ‘im. Best if yeh jus’ run along an’ come back in the mornin’.” The nurse continued to fluff Sam’s pillows for no apparent reason.
“Not if you keep messin’ with ‘is head like that!” Gene snapped. “Soon’s he wakes up, I don’ care if its three in the bloody mornin’, I want to know about it! Now stop fiddlin’ with his noggin and go do some real work. Got enough damage up there already without you shakin’ his head like a tot’s bloody rattle!”
The nurse stopped mid-fluff and ran back to her desk, immediately gossiping with her colleagues about the big, scary, blonde man. Gene stared at Sam another moment before straightening his coat and sweeping out of the ward.
No one but no one told Gene Hunt to “run along.”
*
The skinny lad’s face was scratched up as it was smashed against the brick work and held there.
“I said, who was givin’ ‘im trouble?” Ray snarled.
“I don’t know ‘is name! Honest!”
Ray pressed into the boy even harder, despite the fact he could probably do the same amount of damage with only one arm. “You better not lie to a copper, son. Cos we always know, an’ it don’t make us ‘appy.”
“Dom never talked ‘bout ‘im! Whenever he’d hang around, Dom’d jus’ ignore ‘im or push ‘im away.” Ray eased off a little. “I’d only seen ‘im talkin’ in private, when Dom thought no one was watchin’. I asked ‘im once, what it was all about, but he jus’ yelled at me. Said to mind me own business an’ forget what I saw.”
“What did you see?” Ray pushed him a little harder.
“Nothin’! Jus’ talkin’!”
Ray spun the lad around and pinned the witness’ back to the wall. “Did they exchange any money? Drugs? Did they throw their fists around a bit?”
“No! Nothin’ like that. Jus’ looked like a normal chat between two mates, is all. But when I asked Dom ‘bout it, he went off like a complete nutter. Got real angry, an’ stormed off.”
“When was this?”
“Last Tuesday. Only saw Dom once after that. Said he was sorry. That he’d been acting like a prat an’ he din’t mean to get so angry.”
Ray released the boy who fell forward, catching his hands on his knees, terrified of moving any further.
“Go on then. Shove off.”
The frightened boy didn’t need telling twice and he immediately took off, running full speed out of the alley. Ray checked his watch. Three o’clock. Plenty of time to return to the station, share his information, and be at the hospital at five to see Chris. He hadn’t learned much, but at least he wouldn’t be going to the Guv empty handed. Maybe between himself, the Guv, and Cartwright they’d be able to fill in the gaps.
*
DCI Litton finished his tea at the local cafe, carefully dabbing his moustache dry with a clean napkin. “Au revoir, Daphne,” he said to the less than amused waitress, pushing in his chair as he left.
As he stood outside his car, fixing his tie in the side mirror, an inquisitive voice called out to him from behind. “DCI Litton?”
He quickly spun and shared a fake smile with Jackie Queen. “Bonjour, Ms. Queen. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Jackie snuffed out her finished cigarette under her shoe and adjusted the purse on her arm. “I was wondering if you could chat with me for a bit.”
“Of course, ma chere. Regarding what, may I ask?”
Jackie’s smile never faltered. “DC Chris Skelton.”
Litton’s face fell.
_________
Part 9