Mystery Tour of 1973 (fic) Chapter 6
Title: (Previously "Life on Mars?") Mystery Tour of 1973
Crossover: Doctor Who/Life on Mars
Parings: Sam/Martha
Rating: PG
Chapter: 6/?
Spoilers: Season 3 of Doctor Who and Season 2 of Life on Mars
Disclaimer: As much as I would like to, I don't own these shows.
Author's Comment: My first try at a fanfiction. It's unbetaed and probably full of errors. Please comment, it makes me write more.
About: Arriving at a murder scene, Gene soon starts to suspect Martha"-Joan".
They arrived at the scene of the crime in relative silence. Gene got out of the car and surveyed the scene. The skirt Cartwright was busy calming down witnesses, Ray was searching for evidence around the dustbins and Chris was looking at the body and chewing his cud. ‘That plod will need calming down herself in a moment’ Gene thought to himself. The scene of the crime was in a back-alley, nearby the sport oval. The dead bloke was lying on his back with a bloody big bruise on his head.
“Oi sweetheart! What you think you’re doin’?” he demanded.
That wife of Tyler’s was crouching over the body, seemingly examining the dead blighter. To be honest with himself, he didn’t quite know what to make of the skirt. She was beautiful, he’d give her that. But something seemed, well, odd about her. Her shining brown eyes seemed somewhat haunted, like someone who’d seen too much. Her clothes were odd too, and her hair was spiked up in a bun. The fact that Dorothy hadn’t mentioned her, or remembered her could be put down to that amnesia from the car crash. After all, Tyler would never cheat on a skirt; he wasn’t that sort of man. He didn’t have the balls to do something like that. Poor plonk, having a husband who forgot about her.
“The cause of death was probably the blow to the head. He’s been dead for at least 15 hours. The bruises on his knuckles suggest that he was in a fight. It looks like the murder weapon was a long blunt object. Like a plank of wood or something,” Martha-Joan was saying.
“Who are you to decide that? The bleeding coroner?”
“I’m a doctor,”
“Don’t you mean a nurse?” that was Chris.
“Why would a black bird like you be a doctor?”
“Guv...” Sam trailed off sighing, “Sorry, you’d have to forgive his foul tongue Martha.”
“No worries; I met Shakespeare.”
Gene felt baffled about her remark. That settles it; she’s as kooky as Gladys. He thought about her diagnosis; the only sane thing she’d said. His mind flashed back to when he’d burst into Dorothy’s flat to see Martha-Joan with a cricket bat, ready to strike her husband.
“That weapon, could it’ve been a cricket bat?” Perhaps the reason why she knew so much about the dead man was because she murdered him.
“Perhaps. Although I’d wait for the coroner to certify it,”
“Where were you for the past 24 hours?”
“What? You don’t think I did it, surely?”
“Well my budgie certainly didn’t do it!”
“There was some cricket training yesterday, Guv. Some birds from that high school, I think. The oval’s just ‘round the corner,” Ray interrupted.
Trust Ray to know when some pretty young skirts were playing in the mud.
“You’re coming down to the station with us for some questionin’, Mrs. Sam Tyler,”
“What?!” Martha-Joan and Cartwright said in unison.
“Mrs. Tyler?” Annie looked puzzled, “Sam has a wife? When was I going to be told ‘bout this?”
“Annie, I didn’t know,”
Sam went to start to explain but Annie brushed past the small group and walked as fast as those heels would let her around a corner. Gene blocked Sam’s way as he tried to follow the skirt.
“Trust me Sammy-boy. There’s nothing more deadly than a skirt with her knickers in a twist. Better leave her to calm down and we’ll go to the station to question your missus.”
“But-”
“It wasn’t me! I was no where near here yesterday!”
“Where did you get that cricket bat from? Stopped by for a bit of cricket, I guess? Carted it home to your delirious husband to give ‘im a quick whack on the noggin fer cheatin’ on you?”
“I told you, I wasn’t here yesterday! In fact, the last time I was in Manchester was in 1946!”
“Unless you can give me a solid alibi, you’re coming down to the station!”
“You’re wasting your time. You’re going to question me while there’s a murderer on the loose?”
“Guv, it couldn’t have been her.”
“Can you account for her whereabouts, Sammy-boy?”
“Not really,” he looked like he was going to make something up, but then reconsidered it because he’d been with Gene all yesterday in the station.
With that he hopped into the car, followed by a baffled Sam and Martha-Joan.