An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 13.1 (13 of ?)
Title: An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 13.1 (13 of ?)
Author: dtstrainers
Paring: Donna Noble/Peter Carlisle
Beta/Co-Captain of this Ship: WhosInTheAttic- Thanks again for everything.
Rating: PG here, M for Mature in Part 13.4
Word Count: 1,607 of 12,353 for all four parts of Pt 13
Summary: Peter and Donna spend an evening at Donna's home.
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 when I do, on Friday, when Live Journal decides to cooperate. This ended up being a monster, so it was split into three parts. I promise, I tried to find another way, but nothing has been cooperating the last two weeks and this is the best I could do.
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 | Part 13.1 | Part 13.2 | Part 13.3 | Part 13.4
5:45 PM Friday, 18 May 2012
DS Cave cautiously regarded the Detective Inspector from the safety of his desk across the office. The usual cacophony of the late afternoon served to camouflage his surveillance and, as DI Carlisle was engrossed in his investigation, he failed to notice the other man’s interest. DS Cave was indulging in a bit of research of his own, trying to ascertain the facts of the DI’s past. As a long-time officer, he had a few acquaintances sprinkled about the Met that owed him favors and the account of one in Human Resources was paid in full with a few quick printouts from the personnel files.
He had to admit- on the surface, DI Carlisle’s records were impressive. The man had a good close rate and had demonstrated ability- his superiors had praised him as being quick-witted and tenacious, and he had risen rapidly through the ranks. He’d been fast-tracked in his first position at North Lakes, and as such, had been called in to Blackpool for an overflow case, a run-of-the-mill homicide which did not result in a conviction. DS Cave had been an officer long enough to realize the lack of a conviction was inevitable in some cases, even if the perpetrator was known, but something must have gone wrong during this particular inquiry because from that point on, DI Carlisle’s records were starkly impersonal. Not that there was anything detrimental in them: in fact, they were text-book perfect, as though copied and pasted from a How To Write a Review manual, as flat and lifeless as if his superiors were observing him from behind the safety of a two-way mirror. DS Cave leaned on his desk, elbows planted firmly and hands steepled below his chin until the quiet voice of his partner startled him from his consideration.
“Are you still on about the DI, Caveman?” Detective Dexter asked, pointedly looking at the contents of the folder in his hand and not at his parter. “Why don’t you just leave the man alone? It’s not like you don’t have real police work you could be doing, you do know...”
Cave worked hard to suppress a smile. In the fifteen years he’d been with the Met, it was the first time anyone had bothered to bestow upon him a moniker and the nickname Alec Turner had settled on him was spreading through the office like wildfire. He would never admit it, but secretly, he was pleased. A nickname served to solidify his place within the force and indicated that he was enough of a fixture that people bothered to notice him. DS Cave knew he wasn’t good with people: he was too blunt, too direct and, if he was being honest with himself, too oafish at times, but it didn’t follow that he was unintelligent. What some officers could discover with grace and finesse, he could bludgeon out of those riled by his coarse and crude investigative techniques. It didn’t matter to him that he was unloved, as long as he was effective.
When DI Cave refused to respond, Dexter sighed, knowing his partner for the bulldog he was: once he felt he was onto something, nothing would distract him from his purpose. “If you’re dead set on investigating the private life of a superior officer,” Dexter finally offered, raising his brows in obvious disdain, “allow me to direct your inquiry. You might want to talk to that new tech upstairs. I overheard him talking to another tech about seeing the DI at lunch, more than once in the last week, with a ginger, and Carlisle being so engrossed in the conversation that he didn’t even spare him a glance.”
“What, have you been hangin' about the water cooler to gossip with the girls, then?" Cave asked with surprise. He knew that Dexter tolerated him, respected him, even, but he had no illusions that the man actually liked him. He narrowed his eyes and regarded his partner thoughtfully, knowing Dexter would eventually crack under scrutiny, and he did not disappoint.
"Call it curiosity," Dexter finally admitted with reluctance. "I'm as human as the next man. Besides, I've been noticing a change in his habits myself. The DI's never been a clock-watcher before, but now? Keep an eye on him, especially near lunch." Cave nodded thoughtfully and stroked his chin, still counting on his lack of a response to elicit more information from Dexter. The man just couldn't abide silence from his superiors, Cave had discovered by accident and now he routinely used that fact to his advantage. After a long moment's hesitation, Dexter added, "I noticed last week, and it stuck with me, as the DI almost plowed me over in his haste to leave one day for what he declared was a “prior engagement” at lunchtime."
"Ah, now you’re finally acting like a proper partner!” DS Cave murmured and he was surprised when a slight smile ghosted over Dexter's fine features. It was gone almost instantly but it had definitely been there, and Cave was even more surprised to find himself smiling in return.
Detective Dexter nodded at him once before turning on his heel, and DS Cave heard him mutter as he walked away, “All I know is it’s a bloody lot of work to be doing, just to save yourself a measly 20 quid...”
**********
Peter Carlisle stared despondently at the case notes he had written on the whiteboard earlier with his partner, Ian Keating. They’d had a fruitless day following up on leads that lead nowhere and tips that weren’t worth a penny. The community was beginning to clamor for a solution: Morgan had been a popular teacher with many friends and no one would be satisfied until the murderer was securely behind bars. Right now, the investigation was focused on Bence, and while he was convinced that the man was involved, Peter still didn’t think he was ultimately the killer. Try as they might to prevent it, the case was becoming high-profile in the local media and Peter reluctantly began to consider enlisting the assistance of the public in locating Bence. He rubbed his face vigorously with both hands and sighed loudly before turning back to Ian. “Keating, much as I hate to, if we don’t make significant progress in this investigation by this time tomorrow, we may be forced to enlist the aid of both the media and the public in locating Bence. Definitely not my preferred mode of inquiry, but with all the attention surrondin’ the case, it may be the best we can do.”
Ian nodded thoughtfully as Peter stood and stretched his aching back. “I’m forced to agree with you on that one, DI. We’ve tried everything I can think of- it’s like he’s vanished from the face of the earth...” He tapped his pencil on the desk before leaning back in his chair. “What’s next?”
“Next?” Peter said, leaning back against the desk, scratching his head. “Next, we go home. We come back fresh tomorrow and review every detail. We examine the evidence and hope to find something we’ve overlooked. And if all else fails, we humble ourselves before the media in hopes of scarin’ up a lead.”
Ian pursed his lips and nodded his agreement, then shuffled the documents on his desk into a neat stack. “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Ian said with forced cheer. “Bright and early. I’ll bring the requisite pastries.”
“Aye, but it’s on me, since you’re pickin’ up,” Peter said as he dug in his wallet and pulled out a tenner. “And no icing on mine, eh? Get me a bit of whatever passes for healthy at the bake shop,” he said over his shoulder as he scooped up his coat from his chair, wearily walking out the door and down the hall. Peter was pulling on his coat as he waited for the lift when Alec Turner rounded the corner and spotted him.
“DI?” he called, “A moment?” He trotted down the hall and smiled when Peter turned to regard him curiously. “You comin to St Stephen’s tonight?” he asked as he approached. “We were thinkin’ of organizin’ a darts tourney there. You any good? I need a partner and I wondered if you’d be interested,” Alec suggested with a sly smile.
Peter looked at him steadily and replied, “Not tonight, I have other plans for this evenin’.” It was the third time Alec had made a point of inviting him to the pub across the street from the Met, frequented by many members of the force. “Maybe next time?” he offered, feeling a tiny bit guilty for putting Alec off again. He glanced around as the door to the lavatory fluttered slightly, perhaps from the pressure difference as the doors of the lift opened behind him.
Alec took advantage of the distraction to press his point. “You can bring your other plans with you, you know,” he offered with a knowing lift to his brows. “Everyone’s welcome.”
Poker-faced, Peter stepped into the lift and turned to punch the button for the lobby. He leaned back on his heels and thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his coat before looking up at Alec, a tiny, wry smile playing about his lips. Just as the doors began to close, he nodded reluctantly while looking up at the ceiling. “Maybe,” he tossed out just as Alec’s sly smile transformed into a grin.
“Maybe,” Alec repeated quietly, turning to catch DS Cave coming out of the loo with a knowing smile of his own.
**********
Continued in 13.2 below.
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 | Part 13.1 | Part 13.2 | Part 13.3 | Part 13.4