Fic: The Philanderer and the Thief (3/11), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Philanderer and the Thief (3/11)
Author: dak
Word Count: 2158 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
Ray was not a walker. Sure, growing up in the city he’d spent quite a bit of time walking from this shop to that, home to the pub, but those were short trips. He’d never been one for long walks in the park or hikes in the country. So, they were only a half hour into their hike back to town when Ray told Tyler he was going to kill him. They were an hour into their journey when he decided he wasn’t joking.
They were an hour and a half into the walk when Ray decided he wasn’t only going to kill Tyler, but dismember him and feed his body to the foxes he knew must roam the area. For the foxes to eat it, he’d have to be in small pieces. Very small pieces.
Ray stopped, panting for breath, and pulled his pack of fags from his pocket. Tyler was several steps ahead before he realized Ray was no longer following.
“We need to keep moving,” he called back.
“I need a fag.”
“Yes, because there’s nothing like cigarettes to help with a hike.”
“If I don’t have a fag, I’m going to kill you,” Ray stated, lighting up.
“Again with the killing. Fine. But can’t you smoke and walk at the same time? Oh, sorry. Two things at once.”
“And what’s your rush to get back, Tyler? Know the Guv’s going to rip off your scrotum soon’s he finds out you lost his motor. But, guess that won’t bother a girl like you, will it?”
“I’m sure I’ll be able to reason with him,” Tyler stated with certainty and continued walking. He stopped only a second later. “What am I saying? I lost his bloody car,” he sighed. “Maybe I’ll get lucky. Maybe he’ll only rip off half my scrotum,” Sam kicked his foot in the ground, stirring up dust. “How could I have been so stupid!” He shouted at himself.
“Cos you’re a twonk.”
“Thank you, Carling, for that enlightening remark.”
“Well, ‘s true.”
Tyler made no reply, just turned round and continued walking. Ray grinned as he flicked ash to the dusty ground. When Tyler stopped arguing, it meant he conceded defeat. One, nil, Ray.
*
Dusk had fallen by the time they reached the outskirts of the village. Sam blamed it on Carling’s need for a cigarette break every ten minutes. On his own, Sam could have made it back at least an hour sooner, he was certain.
The street was empty as they shuffled into central Sheepton. There were no streetlights and only the lights from the pub, the police station, and a small inn were illuminated. It was no wonder thieves had been on a spree. It must have been easy to sneak around this place with so many dark corners to hide in.
Too tired to even bicker, Sam and Ray were silent as they wandered down to the police station. Sam’s legs were aching, his mouth was dry, and his stomach begging for food. All he wanted was to report the car stolen and find some place to eat. Unfortunately, he knew there was no chance the town of Sheepton would have a sushi bar when the whole of 1973 didn’t know what sushi was. He wondered how much a trip to Japan would cost in this day and age.
Sam’s sushi thoughts were wiped from his head as he and Carling reached the small station’s main entrance.
Pub.
That was all the handwritten sign hanging in the window said. Sam was disgusted. Ray was amused.
“Least they have beer o’clock round here.”
“That is completely unprofessional! What if someone has an emergency?” Sam groaned.
“They go to the pub,” Ray shrugged.
“Who’s watching the cells?”
Ray peaked through the window.
“Don’t look like there’s anyone in there. Relax, Tyler,” Carling rolled his eyes. Sam merely crossed his arms and tensed. “Whole town’s only a bloody road long. There were a problem, sure everyone would know about it in less than a minute.”
“I’m glad you find this so amusing,” Sam huffed and walked towards the nearby inn.
“Where you off to?” Carling called after him.
“Obviously, we won’t be going home tonight. Ergo, we need a place to stay,” he pointed to the Inn at Sheepton, its swinging wood sign depicting a faded family of sheep carrying suitcases. Sam saw the light on in the lobby and pushed his way in through the heavy front door as Ray followed.
An older lady - Phyllis but with a smile, Sam thought - was busy wiping down reception with a rag older than she was.
“I’m hungry,” Carling whined. “Why can’t we go to the pub first?”
“If you want, you can go after. First, we need to check in,” Sam explained, stretching his hands towards the counter. Phyllis 2.0 turned and smiled. Ray continued complaining before she could greet them.
“Because they’re running out of vacancies, aye?” Ray quipped. Sam rolled his eyes and turned away, just as the innkeeper was about to address them.
“Look, I am tired and I am hungry and I walked just as long as you and I had to do it in these stupid shoes,” he stuck out a Cuban heel clad foot. “All I want is a place to shower and lie down without hearing you and your complaints.”
“Complaints? When was I complaining?”
“Only the whole bloody walk here! I need a cigarette. I need to sit down. I need a pint. That’s all I’ve had to listen to the past four hours.”
“Well whose fault is it we lost the car? Wouldn’t’ve had to walk if you’d taken the bloody keys with you ‘steady of leaving ‘em in the ignition!”
“Who would steal a car out here?”
“Someone did!”
Phyllis 2.0 coughed to draw attention to herself.
“Evening, gentlemen,” she smiled.
“Evening,” the boys replied in unison.
“Sorry to eavesdrop, but sounds like you lads could use a room.”
“Yes, we could,” Sam replied, forcing a smile.
“Well that’s wonderful.” She set down the rag and hurried behind the reception counter. “Now, I’ve plenty of rooms,” she said, looking over her registry, “but only one that’s habitable at the moment. Doing a big cleaning and remodeling, you see, while we’re in the off season.”
“Is there even an on season?” Ray grumbled under his breath. Sam elbowed him in the stomach.
“Ah! Here we are. Room Four, right at the top,” she reached behind for the key. “If you could sign your names here.” She turned the registry around and handed Sam a pen. He signed his name quickly, then handed Ray the pen.
“What?” He wrinkled his forehead.
“You have to sign,” Sam said.
“Why? You already did.”
“I’m not signing for both of us. Take the pen.”
“Fine. Ponce,” he said and hurriedly scrawled his name.
“Thank you!” Phyllis 2.0 cheerily replied as she took back the pen and the registry. She made no secret of studying their names. “Sam and...” she struggled to read the second name. “Ron?”
“Ray,” Carling corrected.
“Oh! Yes. Now I see it. Sam and Ray. Lovely names. Both three letters! And only one syllable. How sweet is that?”
Neither Sam nor Ray responded.
“Here you are then,” she handed over the keys. “Like I said, Room Four, right at the top. I’m sure it’ll suit you boys just fine. Very private.”
Sam thought she saw her wink as she handed over the key, but he was too tired to be sure.
“Breakfast is at eight. You boys like eggs?”
They both nodded.
“Wonderful. Well, off you go. Don’t let me keep you any longer. Shoo!” She waved them off.
Tired, grouchy, and annoyed, they both approached the staircase, pausing and sighing as they looked up the steep flight of wooden stairs.
“All the way to the top, she said?” Sam asked.
“Yeah,” Ray confirmed.
They sighed in unison and started the climb. Reaching the top after five minutes of huffing, puffing, and cursing, they shuffled onto the landing and approached Room 4. Key in hand, Sam set about unlocking the door and pushing it open. They both groaned when the light was flicked on.
“No way. No bloody way,” Ray said.
“She said it was all she has,” Sam sighed.
“And you believe her?”
“I’m too tired to argue about this or go back downstairs,” Sam said as he approached the room’s only bed.
“I’m not sleeping in that, with you.”
“Fine. You can have the floor.” Sam sat down on the frilly, blue duvet and began taking off his shoes, releasing a relieved sigh as he removed the first boot.
“I’m not kipping on the floor!”
“Then which half of the bed do you want?” Sam asked, taking off his other shoe and stretching his sore feet.
“Neither!”
“Okay,” Sam lay down, purposely taking up the whole mattress.
“Oi! I meant I don’t want a half.”
“I heard you,” Sam closed his eyes.
“I meant I want the whole thing!”
“Either half the bed or none at all, Carling. Take your pick, and try to be an adult about it.”
Sam cracked open his eyes to see Ray fuming.
“Right half,” he mumbled, then turned back to the door. “I’m going to the pub.”
“Have fun.”
“Thought you said you were hungry?”
“Tired and hungry. Tired has won out. I’ll eat a big breakfast in the morning,” Sam sighed, closing his eyes once again.
“Suit yourself, but there best be room in there for me when I get back or I’m chucking you onto the floor.”
Sam, already falling victim to exhaustion, merely grunted in response, the sound of Carling’s fading footsteps lulling him to sleep.
*
Ray stomped down the dusty street, choosing the growl of his stomach over the ache in his legs. Bloody Tyler, losing the Cortina. He would’ve found it funny if it hadn’t got him stuck out in the middle of nowhere as well.
He approached the little Shepherd and Staff pub, praying they were still serving food. If they weren’t, at least he’d be able to fill up on a few pints. A warm pub was just what he needed after a day like today. A good drink and a good meal, and he’d be right as rain. Ray heard laughter as he approached the door and the sound urged him forward. He wondered what was happening at the Arms that night.
As soon as Ray stepped inside, the laughter stopped as did all other conversation. The four tables with punters, the three blokes sitting at the bar, and the barman all stared at him, eyes unwavering. Ray nodded and muttered out an “evening” and headed for an empty corner of the bar. The eyes moved with him. Ray only knew one person in Sheepton, and PC Dunlap wasn’t there.
Whispers started as soon as he sat on the stool, but Ray gave them no heed. Instead, he sat at the bar and waited for the barman to make his way down. The tall, dark-eyed man exchanged a few words with his mates at the other end before strolling down to Ray.
He said nothing as he dried the glass in his hands.
“You, erm, you still serving food?” Ray asked when it became clear the barman wasn’t going to address him.
“Aye,” was all he said in reply.
“You have pie?”
The barman nodded towards the chalkboard at the back, where the day’s menu was posted in sloppy, white chalk.
“I’ll have the, erm, beef and ale,” Ray asked.
“We’re out.”
“Alright. Steak and kidney, then.”
“We’re out.”
“Okay. How ‘bout the chicken and veg?”
“Out.”
“Right. Lamb and mint?”
The barman said nothing.
“Lamb and mint, it is. And a pint of bitter. Please,” Ray felt he needed to add. The barman stared a few seconds longer, then walked away, presumably to fill Ray’s order.
Ray remained by himself while he waited for his food to come. The conversations returned to their normal levels, though Ray could feel that all eyes were on him. When his food did arrive, he ate it as quickly as possible, downed his pint, and left.
He hurried back to the inn, passing the now empty reception area, and hurrying up the steep stairs, grateful to be away from prying eyes. He opened the door with little concern for Tyler’s status and saw that the berk was deep asleep, curled up on only one side of the bed.
Ray had a quick slash before removing his shoes, coat, tie, and belt, and crawling into the other side - careful not to touch Tyler in any way, shape, or form. He reached over and flicked off the bedside lamp the Boss had left on for him, his last thought before falling asleep being why Tyler had unplugged the little telly and turned it round to face the wall.
Author: dak
Word Count: 2158 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
Ray was not a walker. Sure, growing up in the city he’d spent quite a bit of time walking from this shop to that, home to the pub, but those were short trips. He’d never been one for long walks in the park or hikes in the country. So, they were only a half hour into their hike back to town when Ray told Tyler he was going to kill him. They were an hour into their journey when he decided he wasn’t joking.
They were an hour and a half into the walk when Ray decided he wasn’t only going to kill Tyler, but dismember him and feed his body to the foxes he knew must roam the area. For the foxes to eat it, he’d have to be in small pieces. Very small pieces.
Ray stopped, panting for breath, and pulled his pack of fags from his pocket. Tyler was several steps ahead before he realized Ray was no longer following.
“We need to keep moving,” he called back.
“I need a fag.”
“Yes, because there’s nothing like cigarettes to help with a hike.”
“If I don’t have a fag, I’m going to kill you,” Ray stated, lighting up.
“Again with the killing. Fine. But can’t you smoke and walk at the same time? Oh, sorry. Two things at once.”
“And what’s your rush to get back, Tyler? Know the Guv’s going to rip off your scrotum soon’s he finds out you lost his motor. But, guess that won’t bother a girl like you, will it?”
“I’m sure I’ll be able to reason with him,” Tyler stated with certainty and continued walking. He stopped only a second later. “What am I saying? I lost his bloody car,” he sighed. “Maybe I’ll get lucky. Maybe he’ll only rip off half my scrotum,” Sam kicked his foot in the ground, stirring up dust. “How could I have been so stupid!” He shouted at himself.
“Cos you’re a twonk.”
“Thank you, Carling, for that enlightening remark.”
“Well, ‘s true.”
Tyler made no reply, just turned round and continued walking. Ray grinned as he flicked ash to the dusty ground. When Tyler stopped arguing, it meant he conceded defeat. One, nil, Ray.
*
Dusk had fallen by the time they reached the outskirts of the village. Sam blamed it on Carling’s need for a cigarette break every ten minutes. On his own, Sam could have made it back at least an hour sooner, he was certain.
The street was empty as they shuffled into central Sheepton. There were no streetlights and only the lights from the pub, the police station, and a small inn were illuminated. It was no wonder thieves had been on a spree. It must have been easy to sneak around this place with so many dark corners to hide in.
Too tired to even bicker, Sam and Ray were silent as they wandered down to the police station. Sam’s legs were aching, his mouth was dry, and his stomach begging for food. All he wanted was to report the car stolen and find some place to eat. Unfortunately, he knew there was no chance the town of Sheepton would have a sushi bar when the whole of 1973 didn’t know what sushi was. He wondered how much a trip to Japan would cost in this day and age.
Sam’s sushi thoughts were wiped from his head as he and Carling reached the small station’s main entrance.
Pub.
That was all the handwritten sign hanging in the window said. Sam was disgusted. Ray was amused.
“Least they have beer o’clock round here.”
“That is completely unprofessional! What if someone has an emergency?” Sam groaned.
“They go to the pub,” Ray shrugged.
“Who’s watching the cells?”
Ray peaked through the window.
“Don’t look like there’s anyone in there. Relax, Tyler,” Carling rolled his eyes. Sam merely crossed his arms and tensed. “Whole town’s only a bloody road long. There were a problem, sure everyone would know about it in less than a minute.”
“I’m glad you find this so amusing,” Sam huffed and walked towards the nearby inn.
“Where you off to?” Carling called after him.
“Obviously, we won’t be going home tonight. Ergo, we need a place to stay,” he pointed to the Inn at Sheepton, its swinging wood sign depicting a faded family of sheep carrying suitcases. Sam saw the light on in the lobby and pushed his way in through the heavy front door as Ray followed.
An older lady - Phyllis but with a smile, Sam thought - was busy wiping down reception with a rag older than she was.
“I’m hungry,” Carling whined. “Why can’t we go to the pub first?”
“If you want, you can go after. First, we need to check in,” Sam explained, stretching his hands towards the counter. Phyllis 2.0 turned and smiled. Ray continued complaining before she could greet them.
“Because they’re running out of vacancies, aye?” Ray quipped. Sam rolled his eyes and turned away, just as the innkeeper was about to address them.
“Look, I am tired and I am hungry and I walked just as long as you and I had to do it in these stupid shoes,” he stuck out a Cuban heel clad foot. “All I want is a place to shower and lie down without hearing you and your complaints.”
“Complaints? When was I complaining?”
“Only the whole bloody walk here! I need a cigarette. I need to sit down. I need a pint. That’s all I’ve had to listen to the past four hours.”
“Well whose fault is it we lost the car? Wouldn’t’ve had to walk if you’d taken the bloody keys with you ‘steady of leaving ‘em in the ignition!”
“Who would steal a car out here?”
“Someone did!”
Phyllis 2.0 coughed to draw attention to herself.
“Evening, gentlemen,” she smiled.
“Evening,” the boys replied in unison.
“Sorry to eavesdrop, but sounds like you lads could use a room.”
“Yes, we could,” Sam replied, forcing a smile.
“Well that’s wonderful.” She set down the rag and hurried behind the reception counter. “Now, I’ve plenty of rooms,” she said, looking over her registry, “but only one that’s habitable at the moment. Doing a big cleaning and remodeling, you see, while we’re in the off season.”
“Is there even an on season?” Ray grumbled under his breath. Sam elbowed him in the stomach.
“Ah! Here we are. Room Four, right at the top,” she reached behind for the key. “If you could sign your names here.” She turned the registry around and handed Sam a pen. He signed his name quickly, then handed Ray the pen.
“What?” He wrinkled his forehead.
“You have to sign,” Sam said.
“Why? You already did.”
“I’m not signing for both of us. Take the pen.”
“Fine. Ponce,” he said and hurriedly scrawled his name.
“Thank you!” Phyllis 2.0 cheerily replied as she took back the pen and the registry. She made no secret of studying their names. “Sam and...” she struggled to read the second name. “Ron?”
“Ray,” Carling corrected.
“Oh! Yes. Now I see it. Sam and Ray. Lovely names. Both three letters! And only one syllable. How sweet is that?”
Neither Sam nor Ray responded.
“Here you are then,” she handed over the keys. “Like I said, Room Four, right at the top. I’m sure it’ll suit you boys just fine. Very private.”
Sam thought she saw her wink as she handed over the key, but he was too tired to be sure.
“Breakfast is at eight. You boys like eggs?”
They both nodded.
“Wonderful. Well, off you go. Don’t let me keep you any longer. Shoo!” She waved them off.
Tired, grouchy, and annoyed, they both approached the staircase, pausing and sighing as they looked up the steep flight of wooden stairs.
“All the way to the top, she said?” Sam asked.
“Yeah,” Ray confirmed.
They sighed in unison and started the climb. Reaching the top after five minutes of huffing, puffing, and cursing, they shuffled onto the landing and approached Room 4. Key in hand, Sam set about unlocking the door and pushing it open. They both groaned when the light was flicked on.
“No way. No bloody way,” Ray said.
“She said it was all she has,” Sam sighed.
“And you believe her?”
“I’m too tired to argue about this or go back downstairs,” Sam said as he approached the room’s only bed.
“I’m not sleeping in that, with you.”
“Fine. You can have the floor.” Sam sat down on the frilly, blue duvet and began taking off his shoes, releasing a relieved sigh as he removed the first boot.
“I’m not kipping on the floor!”
“Then which half of the bed do you want?” Sam asked, taking off his other shoe and stretching his sore feet.
“Neither!”
“Okay,” Sam lay down, purposely taking up the whole mattress.
“Oi! I meant I don’t want a half.”
“I heard you,” Sam closed his eyes.
“I meant I want the whole thing!”
“Either half the bed or none at all, Carling. Take your pick, and try to be an adult about it.”
Sam cracked open his eyes to see Ray fuming.
“Right half,” he mumbled, then turned back to the door. “I’m going to the pub.”
“Have fun.”
“Thought you said you were hungry?”
“Tired and hungry. Tired has won out. I’ll eat a big breakfast in the morning,” Sam sighed, closing his eyes once again.
“Suit yourself, but there best be room in there for me when I get back or I’m chucking you onto the floor.”
Sam, already falling victim to exhaustion, merely grunted in response, the sound of Carling’s fading footsteps lulling him to sleep.
*
Ray stomped down the dusty street, choosing the growl of his stomach over the ache in his legs. Bloody Tyler, losing the Cortina. He would’ve found it funny if it hadn’t got him stuck out in the middle of nowhere as well.
He approached the little Shepherd and Staff pub, praying they were still serving food. If they weren’t, at least he’d be able to fill up on a few pints. A warm pub was just what he needed after a day like today. A good drink and a good meal, and he’d be right as rain. Ray heard laughter as he approached the door and the sound urged him forward. He wondered what was happening at the Arms that night.
As soon as Ray stepped inside, the laughter stopped as did all other conversation. The four tables with punters, the three blokes sitting at the bar, and the barman all stared at him, eyes unwavering. Ray nodded and muttered out an “evening” and headed for an empty corner of the bar. The eyes moved with him. Ray only knew one person in Sheepton, and PC Dunlap wasn’t there.
Whispers started as soon as he sat on the stool, but Ray gave them no heed. Instead, he sat at the bar and waited for the barman to make his way down. The tall, dark-eyed man exchanged a few words with his mates at the other end before strolling down to Ray.
He said nothing as he dried the glass in his hands.
“You, erm, you still serving food?” Ray asked when it became clear the barman wasn’t going to address him.
“Aye,” was all he said in reply.
“You have pie?”
The barman nodded towards the chalkboard at the back, where the day’s menu was posted in sloppy, white chalk.
“I’ll have the, erm, beef and ale,” Ray asked.
“We’re out.”
“Alright. Steak and kidney, then.”
“We’re out.”
“Okay. How ‘bout the chicken and veg?”
“Out.”
“Right. Lamb and mint?”
The barman said nothing.
“Lamb and mint, it is. And a pint of bitter. Please,” Ray felt he needed to add. The barman stared a few seconds longer, then walked away, presumably to fill Ray’s order.
Ray remained by himself while he waited for his food to come. The conversations returned to their normal levels, though Ray could feel that all eyes were on him. When his food did arrive, he ate it as quickly as possible, downed his pint, and left.
He hurried back to the inn, passing the now empty reception area, and hurrying up the steep stairs, grateful to be away from prying eyes. He opened the door with little concern for Tyler’s status and saw that the berk was deep asleep, curled up on only one side of the bed.
Ray had a quick slash before removing his shoes, coat, tie, and belt, and crawling into the other side - careful not to touch Tyler in any way, shape, or form. He reached over and flicked off the bedside lamp the Boss had left on for him, his last thought before falling asleep being why Tyler had unplugged the little telly and turned it round to face the wall.