Fic: The Philanderer and the Thief (8/11), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Philanderer and the Thief (8/11)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1974 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 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
“You ever done this before?”
“Not from this angle. Usually I take it from the front. I can’t seem to find...”
“Twist it a little. No, the other way.”
“I don’t need your help!”
“You’re not doing it right. Let me get me hands on it.”
“You keep your hands where they are. I’m almost in...That’s it...That’s it...Yes!...Shit.”
“What?”
“I dropped it.”
“You wanker.”
“It slipped!”
“You should’ve let me try.”
“Have you ever picked a lock before?” Sam asked, pulling his hands back into the cell.
“No, but by the looks of it, neither have you. Couldn’t’ve done much worse, could I?”
“Well, we won’t get a chance to find out. That was my only pen, and it’s just rolled out of reach.”
“You only carry one pen?” Ray snorted with disbelief.
“In my trouser pocket. I think there’s another in my jacket...my jacket! That bastard stole it!”
“Settle down, Boss. Sure it’s round here somewhere,” Ray assured him. “Where’d you learn to pick locks with a biro anyway? Fancy Hyde training?”
“Television,” Sam answered, examining the cell door for any flaws.
“You watch telly?”
“Yes I watch telly,” Sam sneered, wishing the interruptions would stop so he could focus on the task at hand. He gave the bars one last tug.
“Go on, then. Tell us your favorite program.”
“House,” he replied absentmindedly, wondering if he could exploit the rusted upper right hand corner.
“What’s that? Some poncy home decorating show?”
“Erm, sure,” he said, not wanting to discuss television programs of the future. “I don’t see any way out of here. Any ideas, Sergeant?” Sam turned and leaned against the bars while he watched Ray think. He could practically hear the gears turning.
“Well, what if you pretend to be ill. I’ll call for help. They come in to check on you, then we give ‘em a good kicking and run out.”
“Brilliant, Ray. Except there’s one problem.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
“There’s no one here!” Sam shouted, waving his arms at the obviously empty one-room station. At that moment, however, the front door clicked open.
“Quick! Get down!” Ray hissed.
“They know we’re in here, Ray.”
“Fall down. Cough or summat!” He whispered urgently.
“I am not coughing!” Sam hissed back. Ray punched him in the stomach. The air immediately knocked out of him, Sam involuntarily started coughing as he fought for breath.
“Oi! We need help here! He’s ill!” Ray shouted at the man entering. Eyes watering, Sam looked up to see PC Dunlap coming towards them.
“Oh. DI Tyler. You’re back. Afternoon, Ray. Erm, why are you two in cells?”
“Your guv, that Sergeant Davies? Threw me in here. And the twonk.”
“Oh. Erm. Well then. Suppose I’m to keep you there,” Dunlap replied, unsure of himself.
“But we didn’t do anything!” Ray stated. Sam, having regained control of his breathing, took over the conversation.
“PC Dunlap, I can assure you that the charges against us are undeniably false and that DS Carling and I have been held here merely to prevent us from further investigating the crimes at hand.”
“It’s an inside job, Oliver,” Ray said. “Everything that’s been reported stolen was brand new. Who else would know the right houses to hit ‘cept someone who lived here and knew what goods were coming in?”
“And I’ve located all the stolen property,” Sam chimed in, mildly surprised at Ray’s revelation. “It’s located in the cellar of a home approximately ten minutes from here.”
Dunlap regarded them carefully, worry increasingly etching his face. Sam knew he had convinced him. He knew it.
“Makes sense, what you’ve said,” the PC stated slowly. “But, I let you out, I’d lose me job. And there ain’t many jobs to go round in Sheepton. I’m sorry, Detectives. Really, I am.” A sad expression on his face, Dunlap turned and headed towards the front counter. Sam supposed he didn’t know everything.
“I told you, you should’ve played sick! No, you had to try and talk your way out of it,” Ray huffed. “Girl,” he added under his breath.
“Well, I’m sorry if I wanted to try the moral approach,” Sam retaliated, crossing his arms.
“And what’s so moral ‘bout the way we were locked up, eh?”
“That doesn’t mean we need to lower our standards. What am I saying? Yours are already below sea level, aren’t they?”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Ray asked, puffing himself up for a fight.
“Nothing,” Sam sighed. “Forget it. Look, arguing is not going to get us out of this situation.”
“Really? Because it’s been working brilliant so far,” Carling rolled his eyes. “So what else would you suggest since all my ideas are shite?”
“We could make a phone call.”
“Great. More talking.”
“Ray, there is a diplomatic way of going about this.”
“And how long’s that going to take?”
“As long as it needs to. Honestly,” Sam shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Reasoning with Ray Carling had never been his strong suit. Just as he was about to rephrase his argument, the cell door slid open. Sam turned and saw Dunlap standing there, shaking slightly in his neatly pressed uniform.
“Go on, then. Hit me,” he said nervously.
“What?” Sam and Ray said in unison.
“You heard me. Hit me. I’ve spoken to your guv. I know you boys are alright. Were me who asked Sgt. Davies to get us help in the first place. Now, I don’t know much ‘bout...;bout corruption, or owt, really. But if you say you’re innocent, I believe you. And if you’re innocent and someone’s got you arrested, like, then well, maybe we do have some of that corruption here. And I don’t want to be a part o’ that. So,” Oliver took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “Hit me. Have to make it least look like I put up a fight. But not the mouth! Stephie’ll put up a right fit, I come home missing a tooth or summat.” With that, Dunlap closed his eyes and waited.
Sam looked at Ray. Ray shrugged.
“Oliver, I have a better idea,” Sam said. “Just say...just say you thought I was ill and when you came to help, we gave you the slip.”
“Will that work?” He asked, cracking one eye open.
“Absolutely,” Sam nodded, and within seconds, he and Ray were running out of the station.
“That were my idea, you know,” Ray hissed as they snuck across the street to the Inn.
“And it worked. Now there’s a surprise,” Sam smirked, and pushed Ray forward.
*
The Inn lobby was empty as they slipped inside. They had little chance to discuss their next plans and at the moment, regaining their bearings in the small bed and breakfast seemed like the best move.
Ray and Sam were just reaching the stairs, ready to sneak up to their room, when a high-pitched squeal stopped them in their tracks.
“Oh Sam!” Better Phyllis appeared out of nowhere, clapping her wrinkled hands with glee. “Oh, I’m so happy you’re back. Ray was so lonesome without you.”
“Lonesome?” Sam asked him.
“Were not,” he snapped.
“Oh, don’t deny it, Ray. Let him know how you feel! Oh, what am I doing? You boys want to be alone, don’t you? Alright, alright. I’m off. Chores to do. Won’t keep you another minute. You need anything, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll leave you to your privacy.” She winked, then disappeared into the dining room.
“Does she think...” Ray started, his hackles rising. Sam held up his hands.
“Don’t let your mind go there, Ray. Just...don’t let it go there.”
They continued up the stairs to their room and Ray was again out of breath by the time they reached their floor. He tossed Tyler the room key after digging in his pockets for his fags. Lighting his first cigarette in hours, Ray inhaled deeply as he entered the room, then nearly burnt himself when another high-pitched squeal sounded.
“My jacket!” Sam exclaimed and ran over to the bed to collect his prize. Ray winced as the ponce ran his hands over the leather like it was Cartwright’s tits.
“You two need a moment?” He asked, brushing fallen ash off his tie. Tyler scowled but made no retort.
“Where did you find it?” He asked, slipping it on.
“Consignment shop in town.”
“How’d they get it?”
“According the owner, this bird named Corinne, her brother gave it to her to sell. I’d just found the little scrote when she comes down the street, screaming that I’d taken advantage of her,” Ray quoted with a sneer.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Did you?”
“What the bloody hell do you take me for?” Ray shouted.
“Sorry. So, the brother, what did he look like?”
“Short. Bit chubby. Not much hair.”
“Hm.”
“Hm? What’s ‘hm’ supposed to mean?”
“It means he’s not the man who kidnapped me.”
“You have all the fun,” Ray smirked.
“I hitched a ride with a tall man, lean, curly hair. He said he’d drop me off in Manchester. Next thing I know, I’m waking up in a cellar.”
“Where the stolen property is?”
“Yes, except...”
Ray waited as Tyler’s mind ticked over.
“Except?” He prodded.
“You said everything that was stolen was new, correct?”
“Aye.”
“Electronics, appliances...so why would someone steal decades old farming equipment?”
“You mean Parker’s farm?”
“It doesn’t fit,” Sam said.
“Maybe it’s a coincidence?”
“A town with a crime rate lower than the population of the South Pole and someone happens to steal old farming equipment during the middle of a crime spree?”
“Could be one o’ them copy cat crimes. Everyone else’s things getting nicked, someone decides to take a piece for themselves.”
“Fair enough. But to what purpose? Roger Parker would recognize his gear anywhere, most likely. If someone risked using it, they’d be found out. And those tools weren’t worth any monetary value. Parker said so himself. Something’s not adding up.”
Before they could debate the point further, shouts sounded from downstairs. With a quick exchange of glances, Ray and Tyler dashed out of the room and towards the staircase.
“We know they’re here, Betty. Just let us have a look round.”
“I don’t know what you’re on about Mr. Davies.”
“Shit. They’ve found us,” Ray whispered.
“Do you remember seeing a back exit? Through the dining room?”
“I don’t know. I’m only in there to eat.”
“Clearly,” Tyler said, shooting a glance at Ray’s stomach.
“Oi!” He scowled.
“We have to take ‘em in, Betts. They’re dangerous criminals.” Davies’s voice returned their attention to the problem at hand.
“Now that’s a lie! Nowt dangerous about them at all!” The innkeeper replied.
“Follow me,” Tyler whispered, and slowly, they started down the stairs.
“Look, there’s no need to get involved, Betty. Just stand aside and let PC Kenley and I have a look see, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay!”
They reached the bottom of the staircase without drawing attention to themselves. Silently, Sam pointed to the empty dining room. As they darted inside, Ray saw a set of doors leading to an outside patio. Tyler had been right, for once. Now they only had to hope it was unlocked.
“Why are you being so difficult?” He heard Davies sigh. “Haven’t been this much trouble since the divorce.”
Ray watched as Tyler tried the handle to the patio doors. It opened without a hitch.
“And why are you being so difficult? What they’re doing ain’t illegal anymore! They’re two healthy, consenting adults!”
Ray nearly retched into the nearby rose bush.
“Ignore it,” Sam whispered, grabbing him by the elbow and pulling him forward.
“Tyler, when this is all over, can we forget it ever happened?” Ray asked as they hurried out the back gate and into an empty alley.
“Dear God, I hope so.”
Author: dak
Word Count: 1974 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 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
“You ever done this before?”
“Not from this angle. Usually I take it from the front. I can’t seem to find...”
“Twist it a little. No, the other way.”
“I don’t need your help!”
“You’re not doing it right. Let me get me hands on it.”
“You keep your hands where they are. I’m almost in...That’s it...That’s it...Yes!...Shit.”
“What?”
“I dropped it.”
“You wanker.”
“It slipped!”
“You should’ve let me try.”
“Have you ever picked a lock before?” Sam asked, pulling his hands back into the cell.
“No, but by the looks of it, neither have you. Couldn’t’ve done much worse, could I?”
“Well, we won’t get a chance to find out. That was my only pen, and it’s just rolled out of reach.”
“You only carry one pen?” Ray snorted with disbelief.
“In my trouser pocket. I think there’s another in my jacket...my jacket! That bastard stole it!”
“Settle down, Boss. Sure it’s round here somewhere,” Ray assured him. “Where’d you learn to pick locks with a biro anyway? Fancy Hyde training?”
“Television,” Sam answered, examining the cell door for any flaws.
“You watch telly?”
“Yes I watch telly,” Sam sneered, wishing the interruptions would stop so he could focus on the task at hand. He gave the bars one last tug.
“Go on, then. Tell us your favorite program.”
“House,” he replied absentmindedly, wondering if he could exploit the rusted upper right hand corner.
“What’s that? Some poncy home decorating show?”
“Erm, sure,” he said, not wanting to discuss television programs of the future. “I don’t see any way out of here. Any ideas, Sergeant?” Sam turned and leaned against the bars while he watched Ray think. He could practically hear the gears turning.
“Well, what if you pretend to be ill. I’ll call for help. They come in to check on you, then we give ‘em a good kicking and run out.”
“Brilliant, Ray. Except there’s one problem.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
“There’s no one here!” Sam shouted, waving his arms at the obviously empty one-room station. At that moment, however, the front door clicked open.
“Quick! Get down!” Ray hissed.
“They know we’re in here, Ray.”
“Fall down. Cough or summat!” He whispered urgently.
“I am not coughing!” Sam hissed back. Ray punched him in the stomach. The air immediately knocked out of him, Sam involuntarily started coughing as he fought for breath.
“Oi! We need help here! He’s ill!” Ray shouted at the man entering. Eyes watering, Sam looked up to see PC Dunlap coming towards them.
“Oh. DI Tyler. You’re back. Afternoon, Ray. Erm, why are you two in cells?”
“Your guv, that Sergeant Davies? Threw me in here. And the twonk.”
“Oh. Erm. Well then. Suppose I’m to keep you there,” Dunlap replied, unsure of himself.
“But we didn’t do anything!” Ray stated. Sam, having regained control of his breathing, took over the conversation.
“PC Dunlap, I can assure you that the charges against us are undeniably false and that DS Carling and I have been held here merely to prevent us from further investigating the crimes at hand.”
“It’s an inside job, Oliver,” Ray said. “Everything that’s been reported stolen was brand new. Who else would know the right houses to hit ‘cept someone who lived here and knew what goods were coming in?”
“And I’ve located all the stolen property,” Sam chimed in, mildly surprised at Ray’s revelation. “It’s located in the cellar of a home approximately ten minutes from here.”
Dunlap regarded them carefully, worry increasingly etching his face. Sam knew he had convinced him. He knew it.
“Makes sense, what you’ve said,” the PC stated slowly. “But, I let you out, I’d lose me job. And there ain’t many jobs to go round in Sheepton. I’m sorry, Detectives. Really, I am.” A sad expression on his face, Dunlap turned and headed towards the front counter. Sam supposed he didn’t know everything.
“I told you, you should’ve played sick! No, you had to try and talk your way out of it,” Ray huffed. “Girl,” he added under his breath.
“Well, I’m sorry if I wanted to try the moral approach,” Sam retaliated, crossing his arms.
“And what’s so moral ‘bout the way we were locked up, eh?”
“That doesn’t mean we need to lower our standards. What am I saying? Yours are already below sea level, aren’t they?”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Ray asked, puffing himself up for a fight.
“Nothing,” Sam sighed. “Forget it. Look, arguing is not going to get us out of this situation.”
“Really? Because it’s been working brilliant so far,” Carling rolled his eyes. “So what else would you suggest since all my ideas are shite?”
“We could make a phone call.”
“Great. More talking.”
“Ray, there is a diplomatic way of going about this.”
“And how long’s that going to take?”
“As long as it needs to. Honestly,” Sam shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Reasoning with Ray Carling had never been his strong suit. Just as he was about to rephrase his argument, the cell door slid open. Sam turned and saw Dunlap standing there, shaking slightly in his neatly pressed uniform.
“Go on, then. Hit me,” he said nervously.
“What?” Sam and Ray said in unison.
“You heard me. Hit me. I’ve spoken to your guv. I know you boys are alright. Were me who asked Sgt. Davies to get us help in the first place. Now, I don’t know much ‘bout...;bout corruption, or owt, really. But if you say you’re innocent, I believe you. And if you’re innocent and someone’s got you arrested, like, then well, maybe we do have some of that corruption here. And I don’t want to be a part o’ that. So,” Oliver took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “Hit me. Have to make it least look like I put up a fight. But not the mouth! Stephie’ll put up a right fit, I come home missing a tooth or summat.” With that, Dunlap closed his eyes and waited.
Sam looked at Ray. Ray shrugged.
“Oliver, I have a better idea,” Sam said. “Just say...just say you thought I was ill and when you came to help, we gave you the slip.”
“Will that work?” He asked, cracking one eye open.
“Absolutely,” Sam nodded, and within seconds, he and Ray were running out of the station.
“That were my idea, you know,” Ray hissed as they snuck across the street to the Inn.
“And it worked. Now there’s a surprise,” Sam smirked, and pushed Ray forward.
*
The Inn lobby was empty as they slipped inside. They had little chance to discuss their next plans and at the moment, regaining their bearings in the small bed and breakfast seemed like the best move.
Ray and Sam were just reaching the stairs, ready to sneak up to their room, when a high-pitched squeal stopped them in their tracks.
“Oh Sam!” Better Phyllis appeared out of nowhere, clapping her wrinkled hands with glee. “Oh, I’m so happy you’re back. Ray was so lonesome without you.”
“Lonesome?” Sam asked him.
“Were not,” he snapped.
“Oh, don’t deny it, Ray. Let him know how you feel! Oh, what am I doing? You boys want to be alone, don’t you? Alright, alright. I’m off. Chores to do. Won’t keep you another minute. You need anything, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll leave you to your privacy.” She winked, then disappeared into the dining room.
“Does she think...” Ray started, his hackles rising. Sam held up his hands.
“Don’t let your mind go there, Ray. Just...don’t let it go there.”
They continued up the stairs to their room and Ray was again out of breath by the time they reached their floor. He tossed Tyler the room key after digging in his pockets for his fags. Lighting his first cigarette in hours, Ray inhaled deeply as he entered the room, then nearly burnt himself when another high-pitched squeal sounded.
“My jacket!” Sam exclaimed and ran over to the bed to collect his prize. Ray winced as the ponce ran his hands over the leather like it was Cartwright’s tits.
“You two need a moment?” He asked, brushing fallen ash off his tie. Tyler scowled but made no retort.
“Where did you find it?” He asked, slipping it on.
“Consignment shop in town.”
“How’d they get it?”
“According the owner, this bird named Corinne, her brother gave it to her to sell. I’d just found the little scrote when she comes down the street, screaming that I’d taken advantage of her,” Ray quoted with a sneer.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Did you?”
“What the bloody hell do you take me for?” Ray shouted.
“Sorry. So, the brother, what did he look like?”
“Short. Bit chubby. Not much hair.”
“Hm.”
“Hm? What’s ‘hm’ supposed to mean?”
“It means he’s not the man who kidnapped me.”
“You have all the fun,” Ray smirked.
“I hitched a ride with a tall man, lean, curly hair. He said he’d drop me off in Manchester. Next thing I know, I’m waking up in a cellar.”
“Where the stolen property is?”
“Yes, except...”
Ray waited as Tyler’s mind ticked over.
“Except?” He prodded.
“You said everything that was stolen was new, correct?”
“Aye.”
“Electronics, appliances...so why would someone steal decades old farming equipment?”
“You mean Parker’s farm?”
“It doesn’t fit,” Sam said.
“Maybe it’s a coincidence?”
“A town with a crime rate lower than the population of the South Pole and someone happens to steal old farming equipment during the middle of a crime spree?”
“Could be one o’ them copy cat crimes. Everyone else’s things getting nicked, someone decides to take a piece for themselves.”
“Fair enough. But to what purpose? Roger Parker would recognize his gear anywhere, most likely. If someone risked using it, they’d be found out. And those tools weren’t worth any monetary value. Parker said so himself. Something’s not adding up.”
Before they could debate the point further, shouts sounded from downstairs. With a quick exchange of glances, Ray and Tyler dashed out of the room and towards the staircase.
“We know they’re here, Betty. Just let us have a look round.”
“I don’t know what you’re on about Mr. Davies.”
“Shit. They’ve found us,” Ray whispered.
“Do you remember seeing a back exit? Through the dining room?”
“I don’t know. I’m only in there to eat.”
“Clearly,” Tyler said, shooting a glance at Ray’s stomach.
“Oi!” He scowled.
“We have to take ‘em in, Betts. They’re dangerous criminals.” Davies’s voice returned their attention to the problem at hand.
“Now that’s a lie! Nowt dangerous about them at all!” The innkeeper replied.
“Follow me,” Tyler whispered, and slowly, they started down the stairs.
“Look, there’s no need to get involved, Betty. Just stand aside and let PC Kenley and I have a look see, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay!”
They reached the bottom of the staircase without drawing attention to themselves. Silently, Sam pointed to the empty dining room. As they darted inside, Ray saw a set of doors leading to an outside patio. Tyler had been right, for once. Now they only had to hope it was unlocked.
“Why are you being so difficult?” He heard Davies sigh. “Haven’t been this much trouble since the divorce.”
Ray watched as Tyler tried the handle to the patio doors. It opened without a hitch.
“And why are you being so difficult? What they’re doing ain’t illegal anymore! They’re two healthy, consenting adults!”
Ray nearly retched into the nearby rose bush.
“Ignore it,” Sam whispered, grabbing him by the elbow and pulling him forward.
“Tyler, when this is all over, can we forget it ever happened?” Ray asked as they hurried out the back gate and into an empty alley.
“Dear God, I hope so.”