Fic: The Philanderer and the Thief (9/11), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Philanderer and the Thief (9/11)
Author: dak
Word Count: 2050 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 Part 8
“You sure we’re going the right way?”
“Yes,” snapped Sam. It had only been the fourth time Ray had asked the question since sneaking out of the Inn. Granted, they had made a wrong turn at the end of the alley, and nearly ended up in Davies’s cuffs, but since then they had remained perfectly on track.
Now, a headache was forming at the base of his skull. Sam was surprised that the pain hadn’t been more constant, having received two blows to the head in less than three days of each other. Perhaps it was the two injuries coupled with Ray’s constant gum-smacking and pointless questions which were sending his brain over the edge.
“Cos, if you’ve only been there once...”
“I remember.”
“Alright. Just saying, if we head the wrong way...”
“We’re not.”
“Okay. Just saying, cos if we were...”
Sam stopped and spun on the spot, kicking up a small cloud of dust.
“Why?” He asked, throwing up his hands. “Why do you always argue with me?”
“I weren’t arguing. I was...”
“Fine. Questioning. Questioning me. Questioning every, little thing I’m doing. Why?” His head was pounding now and Sam rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, hoping to soothe away some of the tension.
“Because I want to make sure you know what you’re doing,” Ray remarked, crossing his arms and still snapping that damn gum.
“I’m your senior officer. Isn’t that enough?”
“No.”
Sam shook his head (a bad decision as the pain flared again) and plowed on. His clothes were already filthy and would most likely need to be tossed or burned. What could a little more dust and sweat do? It took him four steps to realize Ray wasn’t following.
“Not enough for you, either, is it? With the Guv...” Carling said once Sam had turned round. “You’re always fighting him, and he’s your senior officer.”
“It’s different,” Sam blurted out.
“How?”
“What does it matter?” He turned and started forward.
“Sam Tyler not wanting to talk? Now I’ve seen it all,” Ray snorted.
“And suddenly Ray Carling’s in touch with his feelings? Hath hell frozen over?”
“Nowt to do with feelings, Boss. Just wondering, is all. What’s the difference ‘tween you and the Guv and me and you?” Ray had started walking again, but at a slower pace. He ambled forward, his gum still smacking away, making Sam wince.
“Mutual respect,” he muttered. “Hunt and I are capable of being civil towards one another, and we understand where the other is coming from, at least some of the time, and will you stop smacking that damn gum!” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and willed himself to relax.
Ray continued to chew his wad of Juicy Fruit but there was no snapping to be heard. Thank God for small favors, Sam thought to himself as the silence descended. They continued onward, Sam knowing they had to be close now, unless of course they were headed the wrong way.
“Was supposed to be my post, you know,” Ray stated, breaking the brief quiet.
“Oh yes. Let’s have that conversation again. Look, I’ve told you - I didn’t want to come here, and if I could, I’d leave tomorrow, but I can’t. So, I’m stuck with you and you’re stuck with me and maybe one day we’ll be able to work out our differences like adults. For now, could we focus on the task at hand which is getting to that house, getting the Cortina, and getting the hell out of here?” Sam was out of breath by the end of his tirade, leaving Ray to continue the argument.
“Do you have to be so dramatic about everything?” Ray asked. “That’s the problem with you, Boss. Always have to get a hundred words in ‘fore a normal bloke says one!”
“Fine,” Sam sighed, tucking his tired hands into his jacket pockets. “In the spirit of cooperation, why don’t we finally get it all out in the open. Right here. Right now.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
“You’re a twonk.”
“How enlightening. Are you finished now?”
“You’re a twonk who doesn’t care ‘bout what anyone else has to say and the only reason you listen to the Guv is cos he’s your DCI and procedure says you have to.”
“I would listen to your opinions if they had any merit whatsoever. But your idea of a fingertip search, DS Carling, is a hand on the backside of the nearest WPC.”
“I get the job done.”
“But by what means? One day, Ray, one day your ‘methods’ will make you a laughingstock and/or get you suspended. Officers like you, they won’t last in the future.”
“Who cares about the future, Tyler? I’m policing in the here and now, aye? What I do works. It’s you who’s the laughingstock. Or were you too busy fiddling with your tape recorder to notice?”
“At least I don’t worry more about my reputation than about doing a good, proper job.”
“Least I have mates.”
Sam attempted to appear unperturbed at this. He cleared his throat and continued his pace.
“Well, sometimes there are more important things,” he huffed, albeit mildly, and kept his eyes on the dirt road.
“You really mean that, don’t you?” Ray asked and Sam could hear the amused tone to his voice.
“The job comes first. It has to, otherwise you’re in danger of losing your objectivity.”
“And what happens when you retire?”
“To be honest, I’ve never thought I’d live that long,” Sam answered quietly, still avoiding Ray’s gaze.
“Guv’s right,” Ray snorted. “You are a depressing bastard, sometimes. Well, least you’re a United man. Not all’s wrong with you, then.”
Sam let out a laugh.
“Go on then,” he said. “Your turn to share a part of the hidden Ray Carling psyche.”
“The what?”
“What makes you tick?” Sam sighed, explaining himself.
“Booze and fags.”
“I should’ve known. Anything else?”
“No. Should there be?”
“Well, no. I suppose not. Only, isn’t that how this works? I share a personal moment with you, you share...”
“No offense, Boss, but I wouldn’t share me last ciggie with you.”
“That’s alright. I don’t smoke.”
“Tyler?”
“Hm?”
“We done with all this talking shite?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Cos there’s that house you’ve been on about.” Ray pointed to a familiar weathered farmhouse, a glint of bronze recognizable from even their distance.
“I told you we were going the right way.”
“Bully for you.”
“Do you always have to have the last word?”
“Yes.”
*
Ray had never been much for “stealth.” He’d never seen the point, really, and so it was that he had difficulty ducking behind rock walls and scampering from tree to tree like Tyler was doing. It was because he’d never been trained in all that stuff, of course, not because of his gut, as Tyler’s eye rolls kept implying. The fact that he was out of breath had nothing to do with it.
“Come on,” Tyler whined as Ray dragged himself towards another tree trunk.
“Place is empty, anyhow. Not like they’re going to see us,” Ray grumbled, waving towards the quiet house.
“We don’t know the house is empty. And just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they can’t see you.” Sam whispered, peeking his head around the tree. “What I wouldn’t give for my binoculars right now.”
“Probably not much, you knew the last place they’ve been,” Ray muttered.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing, Boss. Binoculars. Aye. They’d be good right about now.”
“Let’s head for that stone wall,” Sam pointed in the distance. “See if we can’t get a better look.”
Crouching low to the ground, Tyler half-walked, half-ran to the crumbling, moss-covered wall. Ray rolled his eyes, took a breath, and did his best to crouch as he followed Tyler, keeping one hand pressed to his aching back. Reaching the wall, he kneeled down next to Tyler who was resting effortlessly on his heels.
“That’s the kitchen, there,” he pointed carefully.
“And there’s the Cortina,” Ray pointed across Sam to the car. “So, how’re we going to do this? Get in the car and go?”
“Last I was here, I didn’t see the keys in the car.”
“That’s because whoever took it ‘s not an idiot.”
“And, again, in the spirit of cooperation, I’m going to forget you said that.”
“And in the spirit of wanting to get the bloody hell out of here, I say we find them keys quick as we can.” Ray began to stand, but Sam grabbed his arm and yanked him back down.
“Wait,” he whispered. “Look.”
Ray peeked over the edge of the stone wall and saw two figures emerging from the house.
“That’s Corinne!”
“The woman who had you arrested?”
“Aye. Bloody bitch.”
“That’s the man you kidnapped me and then had me falsely arrested. What did Sergeant Davies call him? Kenley?”
“Wait. Kenley? You mean PC Kenley?”
“Could be. He did refer to Davies as ‘sir.’”
“Guess Dunlap were right, then. ‘Bout there being bent coppers.”
“Corruption in a police station of only three officers,” Sam spat, obviously disgusted.
“Dunlap’s alright though. And I think that Davies is alright, just a bit thick, like.”
“People like him are a disgrace to the force,” Sam sneered, staring at the errant PC.
“So, what’re we going to do about it, Boss?”
Sam was quiet as he watched the figures in the distance, so Ray watched them as well. Corinne and Kenley were clearly an item, wrapping their arms around each other and nibbling at each other’s necks as they stumbled towards the Cortina.
Though it was too far to see, Kenley must have had the coveted car keys in his hand as the boot opened when he leaned towards it, Corinne’s arms wrapped around his waist. As soon as the boot was opened, Corinne and Kenley hurried back inside.
“As much as we want to, we can’t just leave. We have a responsibility to this town,” Sam said with newfound determination.
“Thought you said it was a village.”
“Whatever.”
His knees aching from all the walking and the crouching and the running, Ray rose to stretch them, but Sam yanked him down again.
“No, wait,” Sam told him. “Let’s see what they do.”
“They’re going to drive off in the Guv’s car, that’s what they’re going to do.”
“Not with the boot open they won’t. Patience, DS Carling, is more than a virtue. It is an important tool of effective policing.”
Before Ray could reply, Corinne and Kenley were outside again, and Ray was nearly tackled to the ground by Tyler.
“Watch it,” Ray hissed, nursing a now sore elbow.
“Look!”
Ray got to his knees and peered over the wall. Corinne and Kenley’s arms weren’t wrapped around each other but quantities of stolen merchandise. Corinne was carrying a blender and a block of knives, while Kenley lugged over a record player. The kitchen items were set in the back seat while the record player was placed in the boot.
Kenley was less lovey-dovey now, anxiously checking his watch and hurrying Corinne along. They disappeared inside the house, but quickly returned with more of the stolen goods.
“They’re moving the merchandise,” Sam said.
“Oh really? Hadn’t figured that out for meself.”
“If we don’t follow them now, we might not get another chance.”
“And how do we do that? Horseback?” Ray nodded to a few horses grazing nearby. “No way we can keep up with ‘em on foot.”
“We could hitch a ride,” Sam suggested, wearing one of those grins that always terrified the Guv.
“How?”
Sam kept grinning.
“Oh, you must be joking,” Ray shook his head no. Sam looked back at the car. Kenley hadn’t closed the boot properly and it remained open, though it appeared the PC hadn’t noticed as he was walking away and shouting inaudible orders at Corinne.
The two suspects gone from view, Sam lept over the wall without warning and ran to the car.
“Wait. Tyler!” Ray cursed and launched himself over the jagged stones, lungs burning as he ran after Sam. Checking that they weren’t seen, Sam fully opened the boot and stared inside.
“There’s no way,” Ray panted, recovering from the sprint.
“Don’t worry. There’s plenty of room,” Sam smiled. “I know from first-hand experience.”
Author: dak
Word Count: 2050 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 Part 8
“You sure we’re going the right way?”
“Yes,” snapped Sam. It had only been the fourth time Ray had asked the question since sneaking out of the Inn. Granted, they had made a wrong turn at the end of the alley, and nearly ended up in Davies’s cuffs, but since then they had remained perfectly on track.
Now, a headache was forming at the base of his skull. Sam was surprised that the pain hadn’t been more constant, having received two blows to the head in less than three days of each other. Perhaps it was the two injuries coupled with Ray’s constant gum-smacking and pointless questions which were sending his brain over the edge.
“Cos, if you’ve only been there once...”
“I remember.”
“Alright. Just saying, if we head the wrong way...”
“We’re not.”
“Okay. Just saying, cos if we were...”
Sam stopped and spun on the spot, kicking up a small cloud of dust.
“Why?” He asked, throwing up his hands. “Why do you always argue with me?”
“I weren’t arguing. I was...”
“Fine. Questioning. Questioning me. Questioning every, little thing I’m doing. Why?” His head was pounding now and Sam rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, hoping to soothe away some of the tension.
“Because I want to make sure you know what you’re doing,” Ray remarked, crossing his arms and still snapping that damn gum.
“I’m your senior officer. Isn’t that enough?”
“No.”
Sam shook his head (a bad decision as the pain flared again) and plowed on. His clothes were already filthy and would most likely need to be tossed or burned. What could a little more dust and sweat do? It took him four steps to realize Ray wasn’t following.
“Not enough for you, either, is it? With the Guv...” Carling said once Sam had turned round. “You’re always fighting him, and he’s your senior officer.”
“It’s different,” Sam blurted out.
“How?”
“What does it matter?” He turned and started forward.
“Sam Tyler not wanting to talk? Now I’ve seen it all,” Ray snorted.
“And suddenly Ray Carling’s in touch with his feelings? Hath hell frozen over?”
“Nowt to do with feelings, Boss. Just wondering, is all. What’s the difference ‘tween you and the Guv and me and you?” Ray had started walking again, but at a slower pace. He ambled forward, his gum still smacking away, making Sam wince.
“Mutual respect,” he muttered. “Hunt and I are capable of being civil towards one another, and we understand where the other is coming from, at least some of the time, and will you stop smacking that damn gum!” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and willed himself to relax.
Ray continued to chew his wad of Juicy Fruit but there was no snapping to be heard. Thank God for small favors, Sam thought to himself as the silence descended. They continued onward, Sam knowing they had to be close now, unless of course they were headed the wrong way.
“Was supposed to be my post, you know,” Ray stated, breaking the brief quiet.
“Oh yes. Let’s have that conversation again. Look, I’ve told you - I didn’t want to come here, and if I could, I’d leave tomorrow, but I can’t. So, I’m stuck with you and you’re stuck with me and maybe one day we’ll be able to work out our differences like adults. For now, could we focus on the task at hand which is getting to that house, getting the Cortina, and getting the hell out of here?” Sam was out of breath by the end of his tirade, leaving Ray to continue the argument.
“Do you have to be so dramatic about everything?” Ray asked. “That’s the problem with you, Boss. Always have to get a hundred words in ‘fore a normal bloke says one!”
“Fine,” Sam sighed, tucking his tired hands into his jacket pockets. “In the spirit of cooperation, why don’t we finally get it all out in the open. Right here. Right now.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
“You’re a twonk.”
“How enlightening. Are you finished now?”
“You’re a twonk who doesn’t care ‘bout what anyone else has to say and the only reason you listen to the Guv is cos he’s your DCI and procedure says you have to.”
“I would listen to your opinions if they had any merit whatsoever. But your idea of a fingertip search, DS Carling, is a hand on the backside of the nearest WPC.”
“I get the job done.”
“But by what means? One day, Ray, one day your ‘methods’ will make you a laughingstock and/or get you suspended. Officers like you, they won’t last in the future.”
“Who cares about the future, Tyler? I’m policing in the here and now, aye? What I do works. It’s you who’s the laughingstock. Or were you too busy fiddling with your tape recorder to notice?”
“At least I don’t worry more about my reputation than about doing a good, proper job.”
“Least I have mates.”
Sam attempted to appear unperturbed at this. He cleared his throat and continued his pace.
“Well, sometimes there are more important things,” he huffed, albeit mildly, and kept his eyes on the dirt road.
“You really mean that, don’t you?” Ray asked and Sam could hear the amused tone to his voice.
“The job comes first. It has to, otherwise you’re in danger of losing your objectivity.”
“And what happens when you retire?”
“To be honest, I’ve never thought I’d live that long,” Sam answered quietly, still avoiding Ray’s gaze.
“Guv’s right,” Ray snorted. “You are a depressing bastard, sometimes. Well, least you’re a United man. Not all’s wrong with you, then.”
Sam let out a laugh.
“Go on then,” he said. “Your turn to share a part of the hidden Ray Carling psyche.”
“The what?”
“What makes you tick?” Sam sighed, explaining himself.
“Booze and fags.”
“I should’ve known. Anything else?”
“No. Should there be?”
“Well, no. I suppose not. Only, isn’t that how this works? I share a personal moment with you, you share...”
“No offense, Boss, but I wouldn’t share me last ciggie with you.”
“That’s alright. I don’t smoke.”
“Tyler?”
“Hm?”
“We done with all this talking shite?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Cos there’s that house you’ve been on about.” Ray pointed to a familiar weathered farmhouse, a glint of bronze recognizable from even their distance.
“I told you we were going the right way.”
“Bully for you.”
“Do you always have to have the last word?”
“Yes.”
*
Ray had never been much for “stealth.” He’d never seen the point, really, and so it was that he had difficulty ducking behind rock walls and scampering from tree to tree like Tyler was doing. It was because he’d never been trained in all that stuff, of course, not because of his gut, as Tyler’s eye rolls kept implying. The fact that he was out of breath had nothing to do with it.
“Come on,” Tyler whined as Ray dragged himself towards another tree trunk.
“Place is empty, anyhow. Not like they’re going to see us,” Ray grumbled, waving towards the quiet house.
“We don’t know the house is empty. And just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they can’t see you.” Sam whispered, peeking his head around the tree. “What I wouldn’t give for my binoculars right now.”
“Probably not much, you knew the last place they’ve been,” Ray muttered.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing, Boss. Binoculars. Aye. They’d be good right about now.”
“Let’s head for that stone wall,” Sam pointed in the distance. “See if we can’t get a better look.”
Crouching low to the ground, Tyler half-walked, half-ran to the crumbling, moss-covered wall. Ray rolled his eyes, took a breath, and did his best to crouch as he followed Tyler, keeping one hand pressed to his aching back. Reaching the wall, he kneeled down next to Tyler who was resting effortlessly on his heels.
“That’s the kitchen, there,” he pointed carefully.
“And there’s the Cortina,” Ray pointed across Sam to the car. “So, how’re we going to do this? Get in the car and go?”
“Last I was here, I didn’t see the keys in the car.”
“That’s because whoever took it ‘s not an idiot.”
“And, again, in the spirit of cooperation, I’m going to forget you said that.”
“And in the spirit of wanting to get the bloody hell out of here, I say we find them keys quick as we can.” Ray began to stand, but Sam grabbed his arm and yanked him back down.
“Wait,” he whispered. “Look.”
Ray peeked over the edge of the stone wall and saw two figures emerging from the house.
“That’s Corinne!”
“The woman who had you arrested?”
“Aye. Bloody bitch.”
“That’s the man you kidnapped me and then had me falsely arrested. What did Sergeant Davies call him? Kenley?”
“Wait. Kenley? You mean PC Kenley?”
“Could be. He did refer to Davies as ‘sir.’”
“Guess Dunlap were right, then. ‘Bout there being bent coppers.”
“Corruption in a police station of only three officers,” Sam spat, obviously disgusted.
“Dunlap’s alright though. And I think that Davies is alright, just a bit thick, like.”
“People like him are a disgrace to the force,” Sam sneered, staring at the errant PC.
“So, what’re we going to do about it, Boss?”
Sam was quiet as he watched the figures in the distance, so Ray watched them as well. Corinne and Kenley were clearly an item, wrapping their arms around each other and nibbling at each other’s necks as they stumbled towards the Cortina.
Though it was too far to see, Kenley must have had the coveted car keys in his hand as the boot opened when he leaned towards it, Corinne’s arms wrapped around his waist. As soon as the boot was opened, Corinne and Kenley hurried back inside.
“As much as we want to, we can’t just leave. We have a responsibility to this town,” Sam said with newfound determination.
“Thought you said it was a village.”
“Whatever.”
His knees aching from all the walking and the crouching and the running, Ray rose to stretch them, but Sam yanked him down again.
“No, wait,” Sam told him. “Let’s see what they do.”
“They’re going to drive off in the Guv’s car, that’s what they’re going to do.”
“Not with the boot open they won’t. Patience, DS Carling, is more than a virtue. It is an important tool of effective policing.”
Before Ray could reply, Corinne and Kenley were outside again, and Ray was nearly tackled to the ground by Tyler.
“Watch it,” Ray hissed, nursing a now sore elbow.
“Look!”
Ray got to his knees and peered over the wall. Corinne and Kenley’s arms weren’t wrapped around each other but quantities of stolen merchandise. Corinne was carrying a blender and a block of knives, while Kenley lugged over a record player. The kitchen items were set in the back seat while the record player was placed in the boot.
Kenley was less lovey-dovey now, anxiously checking his watch and hurrying Corinne along. They disappeared inside the house, but quickly returned with more of the stolen goods.
“They’re moving the merchandise,” Sam said.
“Oh really? Hadn’t figured that out for meself.”
“If we don’t follow them now, we might not get another chance.”
“And how do we do that? Horseback?” Ray nodded to a few horses grazing nearby. “No way we can keep up with ‘em on foot.”
“We could hitch a ride,” Sam suggested, wearing one of those grins that always terrified the Guv.
“How?”
Sam kept grinning.
“Oh, you must be joking,” Ray shook his head no. Sam looked back at the car. Kenley hadn’t closed the boot properly and it remained open, though it appeared the PC hadn’t noticed as he was walking away and shouting inaudible orders at Corinne.
The two suspects gone from view, Sam lept over the wall without warning and ran to the car.
“Wait. Tyler!” Ray cursed and launched himself over the jagged stones, lungs burning as he ran after Sam. Checking that they weren’t seen, Sam fully opened the boot and stared inside.
“There’s no way,” Ray panted, recovering from the sprint.
“Don’t worry. There’s plenty of room,” Sam smiled. “I know from first-hand experience.”