Fic: The Philanderer and the Thief (1/11), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Philanderer and the Thief (1/11)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1527 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?
“Remarkable, Sergeant. Your incompetency really does know no bounds.”
“Funny, Boss. Were going to say the same ‘bout that stick up your arse. Keeps sliding up further and further, don’t it?”
“A five-year-old knows better than to compromise evidence!”
“Oi! I compromised nowt.”
“You dropped the gun into a vat of mustard!”
“Jury don’t need to know that.”
“Even if they didn’t, which they do since what you just suggested is illegal, any fingerprints we could have obtained have been wiped clean!”
“We don’t need them sodding prints. We caught Flint red-handed.”
“You are the only witness who saw him with the gun.”
“Oh I see. My word ain’t good enough, is it?”
“Your word, and anyone else’s, is better when supported by solid, forensic evidence.”
“You want forensic evidence, do you? Oh, I’ll give you some forensic evidence soon’s we get back to the station, I’ll give you a fistful of forensic evidence!”
“Go right ahead, Sergeant. As your senior officer, I’ll be sure to use such evidence to suspend you without pay!”
Gene grimaced. The Cortina hadn’t seen this much action since his and the Missus’s last anniversary eight months ago. (Though he wouldn’t mention that to Skelton, seeing as where the lad was sitting.) Hunt had tried to break up the quarrel before they had even left the factory, but Tyler and Carling were adamant that their shouting match continue from here to kingdom come.
Gene was convinced all that was preventing Carling from leaping into the front seat to pummel Tyler was his belief that Tyler was about to leap into the back and do the same. Gene knew that wouldn’t be the case, though. Sam would never remove his seat belt while the car was in motion.
At long last, the Cortina was parked at the station’s entrance. He and Skelton immediately removed themselves from the vehicle, but Carling and Tyler were too wrapped up in berating each other that neither had realized the car had stopped.
Hunt waited and watched from the top of the station steps as Tyler became the first to finally disembark, Carling exiting a moment later. Sam flew up the front steps, face etched into a permanent scowl.
“How can you put up with him? He is a complete belligerent idiot!” Sam fumed as he passed Gene and headed inside. Carling pounded up the front steps, a fag dangling from his down-turned lips.
“How can you put up with him? Bloke’s a total twat,” Ray spat as he passed Gene and headed inside.
“If I couldn’t put up with any of you, I’d be running this department by meself,” Gene muttered under his breath, and, with a roll of his eyes, followed his dueling detectives inside.
*
Though his DI and DS had quieted down by dinner, Gene could sense the storm that was brewing. Skelton was being used as a go-between, delivering the curt words neither wanted to approach the other to say. Things finally came to a head just after midday.
From the safety of his inner office, Gene, sipping from his flask, observed as Skelton cautiously approached Tyler’s desk. The Inspector was hunched over his paperwork, scribbling away furiously. Skelton swallowed nervously, bent down, and whispered something into Tyler’s ear. Sam’s pen was immediately thrown down.
With meticulously controlled anger, Tyler pushed himself away from his desk, rose from his chair, and marched over to Carling. Ray, for his part, was nonchalantly chewing away on his Juicy Fruit, arms crossed loosely over his chest.
“Is that so, Carling?” Hunt heard Tyler ask.
“Don’t know what you’re on about. Sir.”
To Gene’s surprise, it was Tyler who made the first physical move, shoving Carling’s feet off his desk and scattering papers all over the floor. Ray, though he couldn’t give two shits about the paper (though Gene could see how much it pained his DI), leapt from his chair and came nose to nose with Sam. A crowd had gathered now, but Gene merely sighed and took another swig.
“Bleeding primary school,” he muttered as he watched Tyler and Carling exchange increasingly derogatory jibes. When they reached the point of someone’s mother doing the deed with a filing cabinet, the blows finally came.
The crowd hooted and hollered as each man landed solid hits. Gene observed quietly from his inner sanctum, carefully analyzing the fight. While Carling had more of a boxer’s brawl, and the bulk to back it up, Tyler was lighter on his feet, able to strike quick blows. Of course he wasn’t surprised the picky pain was a tad light in the loafers.
When both men landed on the ground, fists still flying, Gene thought maybe he should go and break it up. He decided to wait a few more rounds. It reminded Gene of the old days, he thought, as he watched Carling slam Tyler’s hand into a desk. Sitting ringside at one of Terry Haslam’s matches, watching two men duke it out until the bell. Tyler had managed to tangle up Carling’s legs and elbowed him in the gut. It was a good move, Gene observed, except the size of Carling’s gut took away much of the blow’s impact.
Cartwright and Skelton were finally attempting to separate the two when Gene’s phone rang. He reluctantly backed away from the window and answered it.
*
“You mention...my mother...again!” Sam shouted, hurling his fist at Ray’s face.
“You’ll what?” Carling dodged, sending Sam’s knuckles into the floor. “Put me in time out?” He brought up his knee and slammed it into Sam’s groin. Gaining the upper hand, he shoved Sam off and pinned him to the ground.
“You should be used to it, Ray,” Sam gasped, scrambling for purchase on Ray’s torn jacket. “All on your own. Only your hand for company.”
A fist straight to the mouth and Sam immediately tasted blood. He was about to get his own back when order was finally restored by a bellowing roar.
“E-NOUGH!”
The sound of the Guv’s voice brought the entire room to a halt. Sam and Ray’s next punches froze in mid-air. Silence filled the room until Hunt deemed it quiet enough to continue.
“You two are worse than a pair o’ mangy dogs fighting over the same patch of piss!” He shouted, storming over. “Up! Both of you,” he growled, and they immediately did what they were told. Separating themselves, Sam inched closer to the vacant side of the room, while Ray stuck close to the rest of the group, both men dabbing their wounds all the while. Hunt first directed his next shouts at Carling.
“You,” he hissed, pointing a long finger, “Gladys has been nearly a year now. He’s your DI! Act like it!”
Sam knew he was smirking, but couldn’t help it, at least until Hunt redirected his fury.
“And you,” he snapped, pointing the same finger at Sam, “Ray has been on my team since before A Division were even a thought in your little Hyde brain. Listen to him once in awhile!”
It was Ray who was smirking now. Sam sent a scowl in his direction, but missed and hit Gene instead. He quickly looked away.
“Now I have been boggling my brain trying to figure out how to get my Inspector and my Sergeant to act like a bloody team, but short of asking them to murder Litton and hide the bloody body, I’ve come up short. Well, gentlemen, today’s your lucky day. Seems one of our quaint country villages needs a bit of help with a little crime spree they’ve been having. Who better to send them than my two best detectives?”
“What country village?” Sam dared to ask.
“How far is it?” Ray chimed in.
“Oh, so glad you’re interested. Place called Sheepton. Forty-five minute drive North, or thereabouts.”
“Sheepton?” Sam raised an eyebrow.
“Forty-five minutes?” Ray groaned.
“Guv, you can’t...” They said in unison.
“I’m sorry! Did I say this was up for discussion? Get your coats, get a map, and get moving!” He hollered.
Begrudgingly, Sam grabbed his jacket from his chair, plus a fresh notebook and pen, while Ray stocked up on fags and gum. Silently, they made their way back to the center of CID.
“Don’t look so glum, lads,” Gene gave them each a hearty pat on the back. Both scowled deeper. “Think of it as a great male bonding experience. Tell you what,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, tossing them to Sam. “Makes you feel better, I’ll allow you the privilege of using my own motor vehicle. Long as you know, she comes back with so much as a scratch, you’ll both be scrubbing out cells as Phyllis’s new WPC’s. Skirts and all!”
Sam closed the keys in his palm, and, with one last look about the room, headed for the doors, Carling in tow. Neither man spoke until they were finally secluded in the lift.
“’S your bloody fault, this, you know,” Ray sneered.
“Yes, well, at least I get to drive,” Sam smirked and jingled the keys. Ray punched him in the gut just as the door opened. Sam forced in a breath and hobbled out the door after him.
It was destined to be a long day.
Author: dak
Word Count: 1527 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?
“Remarkable, Sergeant. Your incompetency really does know no bounds.”
“Funny, Boss. Were going to say the same ‘bout that stick up your arse. Keeps sliding up further and further, don’t it?”
“A five-year-old knows better than to compromise evidence!”
“Oi! I compromised nowt.”
“You dropped the gun into a vat of mustard!”
“Jury don’t need to know that.”
“Even if they didn’t, which they do since what you just suggested is illegal, any fingerprints we could have obtained have been wiped clean!”
“We don’t need them sodding prints. We caught Flint red-handed.”
“You are the only witness who saw him with the gun.”
“Oh I see. My word ain’t good enough, is it?”
“Your word, and anyone else’s, is better when supported by solid, forensic evidence.”
“You want forensic evidence, do you? Oh, I’ll give you some forensic evidence soon’s we get back to the station, I’ll give you a fistful of forensic evidence!”
“Go right ahead, Sergeant. As your senior officer, I’ll be sure to use such evidence to suspend you without pay!”
Gene grimaced. The Cortina hadn’t seen this much action since his and the Missus’s last anniversary eight months ago. (Though he wouldn’t mention that to Skelton, seeing as where the lad was sitting.) Hunt had tried to break up the quarrel before they had even left the factory, but Tyler and Carling were adamant that their shouting match continue from here to kingdom come.
Gene was convinced all that was preventing Carling from leaping into the front seat to pummel Tyler was his belief that Tyler was about to leap into the back and do the same. Gene knew that wouldn’t be the case, though. Sam would never remove his seat belt while the car was in motion.
At long last, the Cortina was parked at the station’s entrance. He and Skelton immediately removed themselves from the vehicle, but Carling and Tyler were too wrapped up in berating each other that neither had realized the car had stopped.
Hunt waited and watched from the top of the station steps as Tyler became the first to finally disembark, Carling exiting a moment later. Sam flew up the front steps, face etched into a permanent scowl.
“How can you put up with him? He is a complete belligerent idiot!” Sam fumed as he passed Gene and headed inside. Carling pounded up the front steps, a fag dangling from his down-turned lips.
“How can you put up with him? Bloke’s a total twat,” Ray spat as he passed Gene and headed inside.
“If I couldn’t put up with any of you, I’d be running this department by meself,” Gene muttered under his breath, and, with a roll of his eyes, followed his dueling detectives inside.
*
Though his DI and DS had quieted down by dinner, Gene could sense the storm that was brewing. Skelton was being used as a go-between, delivering the curt words neither wanted to approach the other to say. Things finally came to a head just after midday.
From the safety of his inner office, Gene, sipping from his flask, observed as Skelton cautiously approached Tyler’s desk. The Inspector was hunched over his paperwork, scribbling away furiously. Skelton swallowed nervously, bent down, and whispered something into Tyler’s ear. Sam’s pen was immediately thrown down.
With meticulously controlled anger, Tyler pushed himself away from his desk, rose from his chair, and marched over to Carling. Ray, for his part, was nonchalantly chewing away on his Juicy Fruit, arms crossed loosely over his chest.
“Is that so, Carling?” Hunt heard Tyler ask.
“Don’t know what you’re on about. Sir.”
To Gene’s surprise, it was Tyler who made the first physical move, shoving Carling’s feet off his desk and scattering papers all over the floor. Ray, though he couldn’t give two shits about the paper (though Gene could see how much it pained his DI), leapt from his chair and came nose to nose with Sam. A crowd had gathered now, but Gene merely sighed and took another swig.
“Bleeding primary school,” he muttered as he watched Tyler and Carling exchange increasingly derogatory jibes. When they reached the point of someone’s mother doing the deed with a filing cabinet, the blows finally came.
The crowd hooted and hollered as each man landed solid hits. Gene observed quietly from his inner sanctum, carefully analyzing the fight. While Carling had more of a boxer’s brawl, and the bulk to back it up, Tyler was lighter on his feet, able to strike quick blows. Of course he wasn’t surprised the picky pain was a tad light in the loafers.
When both men landed on the ground, fists still flying, Gene thought maybe he should go and break it up. He decided to wait a few more rounds. It reminded Gene of the old days, he thought, as he watched Carling slam Tyler’s hand into a desk. Sitting ringside at one of Terry Haslam’s matches, watching two men duke it out until the bell. Tyler had managed to tangle up Carling’s legs and elbowed him in the gut. It was a good move, Gene observed, except the size of Carling’s gut took away much of the blow’s impact.
Cartwright and Skelton were finally attempting to separate the two when Gene’s phone rang. He reluctantly backed away from the window and answered it.
*
“You mention...my mother...again!” Sam shouted, hurling his fist at Ray’s face.
“You’ll what?” Carling dodged, sending Sam’s knuckles into the floor. “Put me in time out?” He brought up his knee and slammed it into Sam’s groin. Gaining the upper hand, he shoved Sam off and pinned him to the ground.
“You should be used to it, Ray,” Sam gasped, scrambling for purchase on Ray’s torn jacket. “All on your own. Only your hand for company.”
A fist straight to the mouth and Sam immediately tasted blood. He was about to get his own back when order was finally restored by a bellowing roar.
“E-NOUGH!”
The sound of the Guv’s voice brought the entire room to a halt. Sam and Ray’s next punches froze in mid-air. Silence filled the room until Hunt deemed it quiet enough to continue.
“You two are worse than a pair o’ mangy dogs fighting over the same patch of piss!” He shouted, storming over. “Up! Both of you,” he growled, and they immediately did what they were told. Separating themselves, Sam inched closer to the vacant side of the room, while Ray stuck close to the rest of the group, both men dabbing their wounds all the while. Hunt first directed his next shouts at Carling.
“You,” he hissed, pointing a long finger, “Gladys has been nearly a year now. He’s your DI! Act like it!”
Sam knew he was smirking, but couldn’t help it, at least until Hunt redirected his fury.
“And you,” he snapped, pointing the same finger at Sam, “Ray has been on my team since before A Division were even a thought in your little Hyde brain. Listen to him once in awhile!”
It was Ray who was smirking now. Sam sent a scowl in his direction, but missed and hit Gene instead. He quickly looked away.
“Now I have been boggling my brain trying to figure out how to get my Inspector and my Sergeant to act like a bloody team, but short of asking them to murder Litton and hide the bloody body, I’ve come up short. Well, gentlemen, today’s your lucky day. Seems one of our quaint country villages needs a bit of help with a little crime spree they’ve been having. Who better to send them than my two best detectives?”
“What country village?” Sam dared to ask.
“How far is it?” Ray chimed in.
“Oh, so glad you’re interested. Place called Sheepton. Forty-five minute drive North, or thereabouts.”
“Sheepton?” Sam raised an eyebrow.
“Forty-five minutes?” Ray groaned.
“Guv, you can’t...” They said in unison.
“I’m sorry! Did I say this was up for discussion? Get your coats, get a map, and get moving!” He hollered.
Begrudgingly, Sam grabbed his jacket from his chair, plus a fresh notebook and pen, while Ray stocked up on fags and gum. Silently, they made their way back to the center of CID.
“Don’t look so glum, lads,” Gene gave them each a hearty pat on the back. Both scowled deeper. “Think of it as a great male bonding experience. Tell you what,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, tossing them to Sam. “Makes you feel better, I’ll allow you the privilege of using my own motor vehicle. Long as you know, she comes back with so much as a scratch, you’ll both be scrubbing out cells as Phyllis’s new WPC’s. Skirts and all!”
Sam closed the keys in his palm, and, with one last look about the room, headed for the doors, Carling in tow. Neither man spoke until they were finally secluded in the lift.
“’S your bloody fault, this, you know,” Ray sneered.
“Yes, well, at least I get to drive,” Sam smirked and jingled the keys. Ray punched him in the gut just as the door opened. Sam forced in a breath and hobbled out the door after him.
It was destined to be a long day.