Disclaimer: Usual stuff, I don't own, nor claim to own anything to do with Life on Mars. That honour goes to the people at Kudos and The BBC.
Rating: Two swear words and no violence, so I'll say it's a PG.
Pairing: None actually, a first for me!
Summary: You can ask all the questions you like, sometimes you're just not going to get the answers.
Other stuff: Now, this is something different, I think. It just whalloped me round the head this morning and I had to write it up and post it before it disappeared. There are more notes at the bottom, explaining more. ;)
"I'll ask again"
The man infront of me sighs and his shoulders drop. I almost feel sorry for him, it's not his fault he's been landed with one of the hardest coppers in the building interviewing him.
"Where were you on the afternoon of the 21st of June?"
Unlike my colleague, who likes to put a lot of emphasis on his words and occassionally likes to add the odd hand gesture to get his point made, I prefer to sit back sometimes and just watch what someone's saying. Or not saying. I don't think the concept of 'going easy' exists in my senior's head. He's a complete dinosaur. I was always told that you can sometimes get more out of someone by not beating them with a verbal hammer, it's a lesson that's served me well so far.
A breath. A hand is dragged over a tired face.
"And I will reply, again, that I was at home!" he's getting a bit pissed off now, I can kind of see why – it's the fourth time he's been asked.
"Was anyone with you?"
"Yes, a couple of dwarves – I do believe their names were grumpy and sleepy" I can't help the chuckle that I emit, but I think I get away with turning it into a cough.
"Answers like that wont help you, sir" I manage to get out, trying to regain some professional reputation. I can feel a glare being aimed my way.
"was anyone real with you?" My colleague isn't the type to take a joke lightly. There's a pause.
"no" the voice is tired. He has been here for three hours all ready.
"Are you not married?"
Legs uncrossed. Thumb massaging the palm of the his left hand.
"I was. She left me a long time ago and I've not seen any of my family for a very long time" a slight hint of remorse in his voice
"I see. You live alone?"
"yes" Swapped over, other thumb massaging other palm.
"So no-one can varify your wareabouts?" I ask, raising my eyes from his hands
"I suppose no-one can, no" the answer is solid, his voice doesn't waver at all. Then again, his previous would suggest that this isn't exactly his first ever interview. He probably knows the questions better than we do.
"Hm" a grunt from my left. There is a pregnant pause, in which I look at some notes infront of me and I can feel the man's eyes on me, watching. There's something about the way he's looking at me that makes me feel a bit uneasy.
"How do you explain that we found your car at the scene?" the question makes me raise my eyes again, to see a photo being slid across the table. The man looks at it briefly. "It is your car, I take it?" A nod.
"yes, that's my car"
"Well?"
"It was nicked from my driveway, the day before" a sniff and arms are folded.
"Convienient" it isn't a question, and he can't keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
"Not for me it bloody wasn't" I just about stop my lips from raising into a grin.
"There isn't a report of that here, why didn't you report it as stolen, sir?" I ask. His head turns to look at me.
"I didn't see the point, to be honest" he replies. No change in his posture at all. That's one answer that's absolutely genuine at least.
"why not?"
"Well it was an old shit heap anyway. Plus it wasn't exactly worth a fortune so I didn't think you lot would be that bothered by it. I know I wouldn't be if I were you"
"We take any form of crime seriously, sir" I say then, suddenly remembering what we're all doing here in the first place. "You should have reported it". An eyebrow raised for a second and then dropped. He shrugs his shoulders.
"Oh well, you've found it now"
"Yes" my colleague jumps on that "at the scene of a very serious crime". He exhales, bored. He's been through these questions so many times.
"We're dusting the veichle for prints at the moment" I say then.
"Well surprise surpise if some of them aren't mine, eh?" he replies quickly. I feel myself getting slightly annoyed
"You don't seem to understand that we are questioning you about a very serious crime that has taken place here, Sir" I keep my voice level and look him straight in the eyes when he turns. He looks at me for a second longer than he should, as though he's trying to work something out. When he speaks, his voice is quiet.
"Oh, I understand all right, sonny" Something about his voice when he says that is familiar, and I feel myself tensing up for no reason. He sees the reaction I can't help and I swear he grins a tiny fraction.
"Well then I'm sure you'll appreciate that your answers are possibly hindering our progress with this case" I reply, steadilly. He nods ever so slightly. Small victory for me.
"Do you recognise this man?" another photo is slid across the table and he looks at it. I see something flash through his eyes before it's replaced by casual indifference.
"No. I don't" he's lying I'm sure.
"Are you sure?" I press him.
"Positive. I've never seen him before in my life". I look at the way he's sitting, arms folded. He's a solid bloke, strong – probably once was a force to be reckoned with.
"Are you absolutely sure you've never seen him, Sir?" I just want to see how he reacts.
"Oh all right, now you've asked me three times I'll admit it – I have seen him before, infact we used to work together. We used to talk about Snow White behind her back, she was a right little madam, used to pick on Dopey something rotten she did and he didn't like it one bit!" He gets aggitated when he's pushed, he waves his arms about, gesturing as he shouts his reply back at me across the table.
"You used to work together?" I want to tell my boss to shut up and not even attempt it, but I can't.
"He doesn't recognise a joke when he hears it, does he?" this aimed at me with a cock of his head towards my boss and I have to stop myself from nodding in agreement.
"He's in hospital with very serious injuries, this man" I nod towards the man in the photo, his face a bloody mess. "Doctors say he might not make it". It's there again, that flash of something I just can't put my finger on. It's across his face and gone in an instant, but damnit – I saw something.
"I'm very sorry to hear that, but I cannot help you any more with your investigation, officer" he says this directly to me, almost ignoring the other policeman in the room. He doesn't have any nervous ticks, or habits of any sort. He doesn't display nervousness at all. Apart from those slight signs that I think only I saw and I can't recognise... well, we don't have anything on him. There weren't any witnesses to the crime and he's right about the car – his prints will be all over it, of course they will be. I suppose the most we can hope for is for more than one set of prints to be found.
I look at the picture of the victim in hospital and sigh slightly. We can't question a man in a coma.
I look at the man opposite me for a long time then, just watching him watching me. There's something almost familiar about him but I can't put my finger on what it is. Suddenly a sharp voice from beside me almost makes me jump.
"Right. Well, thank you for coming down to the station today Mr Hunt, I'm sure we'll be in touch. Interview terminated by DCI Tim Marsh at 17:05" The tape recorder is pressed off. I follow my gov's lead and stand up.
"DC Alan Skelton will see you to the desk now, Mr Hunt".
I swear he laughs then, it's quiet and muffled by the sound of his chair being scraped back, but I'm sure it's a chuckle none the less. As though he's just worked something important out.
The End...
Other stuff cont: Well, what d'ya think? I wanted the ending to be a surprise... was it? or did it just die on its arse and you saw it coming a mile off? lol.
The idea sort of sprung from a theory that Gene may have been the one driving the car that ran over Sam to begin with. I like the idea of Gene being interviewed by Chris's son who doesn't remember him (or Gene really remember him either) from when he was little. It didn't start off like that but sort of wrote itself that way and hey - who am I to argue with a bunny? lol. I also think that Gene would (all be it relucantly) count Chris and the others as his family. Let me me know what you think :o) Also, Gene - what d'ya think - Guilty or not? hmmm... :oP