Will Murder Out?

Sorry for the delay in updating my SVU/Leverage crossover – got a bit of writers block. Hopefully the next chapter will be up shortly. I've been trying to clear it by writing something else, so I thought I'd post it to see what people think.

This is another Buffy crossover with a crime show. This time it's a British one. I see from Wikipedia that 'New Tricks' has sold overseas, including the US so non-British readers may already be familiar with it. For anyone who isn't and wants a bit of background, the show is a comedy/drama involving a group of quirky retired detectives (ex Detective Chief Superintendent Jack Halford, ex Detective Inspector Brian Lane and ex Detective Sergeant Gerry Standing) who return to the Metropolitan Police as civilians to work on cold cases under the leadership of Detective Superintendent Sandra Pullman, once a rising star but sidelined after a raid went wrong, the kidnap victim she were trying to rescue suffered multiple injuries and Sandra herself shot a dog.

The humour comes from the relationships between the characters, the retirees attitude towards the onset of the aches and pains of age and their unorthodox approach to police work now they are no longer covered by police regulations and Sandra's more rules orientated approach.

Now, read on…

SAW International (Slayers and Watchers Council) 08:00

"Good morning, Sir Rupert. Your tea, sir, hot and strong, just as you like it." Andrew Wells, Personal Assistant to Rupert Giles, Chair of the newly reconstituted Slayers and Watchers Council, laid the cup and saucer down in front of his boss and hovered respectfully.

Giles sighed. Ever since Andrew had discovered that he has inherited a Baronetcy upon the death of his father, the younger man had not only insisted upon using the title on every possible occasion but perfected an impersonation of a butler that would have put the most uncious man-servant in literature to shame. Since, as far as he was concerned, the only benefit of the title was the access it gave him to the higher echelons of British society and the opportunity to influence the political, economic and social elites of the nation in ways that supported the Council's objectives, he found Andrew's snobbery annoying. However, as usual, he remembered that, to mix metaphors, when the chips had been down, Andrew had stepped up to the mark so he bit back his irritation and made his standard reply.

"Thank you, Andrew." He took a sip of tea. "Excellent. So, what is in my diary for today?"

Andrew coughed, opened the thick leather bound diary he was carrying under his arm and made a show of consulting it. "I've allowed you two hours to read your e-mails and check the overnight reports," he nodded towards the deep pile on the blotter in front of Giles, "I've placed them all in priority order with the most urgent and important on the top. At ten o'clock you have a meeting with Mr Admunson to discuss the budget overrun for the new Slayer School in Adelaide, at eleven, Miss Cochrane will be updating you on the progress of the negotiations on the non-aggression pact with the K'len Demon Clan. After that, at eleven forty-five, Mr Nicholas will be reviewing the postings for the newly graduating class of Watchers with you. At twelve forty-five exactly the car will be out front ready to take you to the Graduation ceremony. The amendments you requested to your speech marking the occasion have been made. You are scheduled to speak at two p.m. and then spend the rest of the afternoon meeting the newly trained Watchers and their families, after which the car will pick you up again at five-fifteen and return you here in time for a video conference with Faith about increased vampire activity in the areas hit by Hurricane Katrina… oh, and Willow called, she said it wasn't urgent but she'd like to see you sometime. Apparently, the Scryers have identified some sort of disturbance in the Force, centred round the upper echelons of the Council." Seeing his boss's reaction, Andrew hurriedly added. "Don't worry, Sir, she said to tell you that it's nothing Apocalyptic!"

Giles wondered, in passing, when things had become so bureaucratic that old friends like Willow felt they had to schedule appointments rather than just drop in to see him. He felt a surge of nostalgia for the old days of the Sunnydale Library and the Magic Box. Now, with Buffy almost permanently abroad inspecting the new facilities for Slayers and Watchers the new Council had set up and Xander in Africa, Willow was the only one of the old crowd he got to see on anything close to a regular basis, but all he said was, "Very well. Ask Willow if she can join me for a light lunch please at, oh, twelve-twenty. Nicholson and I should be finished by then. Arrange to have some sandwiches, mineral water and coffee sent up"

"Very good, Sir Rupert." Andrew pencilled a note in the diary. "Is there anything else you need?"

"No, thanks. Leave me to get on with it, if you will please? I'll call if I need you." Giles eyed the neat pile of printed e-mails and other papers in disgust.

"Sir Rupert." Andrew almost bowed himself out of the office.

Left to himself, Giles picked up the paper on top of the pile but, instead of concentrating on the report from Xander on the attack on an African village by a previously peaceful Demon tribe, he found himself looking around at the airy, oak panelled room, taking in the expensive furnishings and the rare books on Demonology and the occult that filled the bookcases. It had been nearly three years since the calling of the Slayers and the fall of Sunnydale. The new, improved Council had been successfully set up and was running like clockwork. For the first time, good had the resources to fight the vampires and creatures of the night wherever they were and win. Apocalypses seemed to have gone out of fashion in the Demon community and life had fallen into a routine. Even the outbreak of vampirism in New Orleans and the American South would be easily dealt with by Faith and the team of crack Slayers he had drafted in to the area from the Cleveland Hellmouth. As for the attack on the African village, it was probably no more than a struggle for scarce resources in a famine hit area.

No doubt it would not last and the forces of evil would adjust to the new situation in time so he should be enjoying the relative peace and quiet while it lasted. Instead he felt tired and jaded. He would never have believed it during his time in Sunnydale but he missed the informality of old friends like Willow just dropping in casually and, even more, he missed the excitement and adrenaline rush of personally fighting evil rather than overseeing the fight and sending others into danger while he remained behind the safety of a desk.

Gloomily, he polished his glasses and forced himself to continue reading.

Unsolved Crimes and Open Cases Squad, Metropolitan Police (UCOS), 08:00 hours

"Alright everyone, pay attention!"

Detective Superintendent Sandra Pullman looked around at her assembled crack team of investigators. Jack Halford had glanced up momentarily before returning to the task of counting some yellow and black capsules as he replaced them back in their bottle. Gerry Standing was giving her an irritated stare, his pencil still poised over the Racing Post, open on his lap. Brian Lane continued tapping away on his laptop, an expression of intense concentration on his face; he had given no indication that he had even heard her.

Sandra sighed. The members of the UCOS team were excellent at what they did, but sometimes, they acted as if it was a hobby.

"If you could drag yourself away from your personal interests for a moment and concentrate on the job you are being paid for." She said, glaring at her offending staff.

This got Jack and Gerry's attention. Jack quickly swept the remaining capsules back into the bottle, screwed on the lid and sat back in his chair, his face a picture of injured innocence, while Gerry lowered the pencil, adopting an expression of deep interest.

"Brian!" Sandra yelled.

The remaining member of the UCOS team looked up. "What?" Seeing his boss standing in front of the whiteboard and his colleagues looking towards her, he grasped the situation immediately. "Oh, sorry, Sandra."

"Right, now I have your undivided attention, let me tell you about our new case." Sandra took a photograph from the slim case file on the table beside her and attached it to the board with a magnet. "David James Randall."

The others saw a man in his late teens or early twenties, dressed in a flowery shirt with a deep collar, almost hidden by long, flowing dark hair and beard.

Gerry chuckled. "Gawd, that takes me back! I had a shirt like that in the early seventies. The birds really went for me in it, if you know what I mean!"

"Yes, thank you Jerry for that trip down bonking lane." Sandra ploughed on. "Randall disappeared sometime on or after 23rd August 1975…"

Brian leaned forward, his interest genuinely aroused. "Why the uncertainty about the date?"

"He came from a family with a long tradition of service in the Royal Navy but he was thrown out of Dartmouth Naval College for not demonstrating the qualities required of an officer. He and his father had words, which ended with the father turning him out of the house with instructions to never darken the door again unless he was willing to straighten out. As far as we know, his father never saw him again after that. Anyway, he moved into a squat in Shadwell. His mother was more understanding, apparently, and kept in contact with him, at least to the extent that he told her where he was living and would turn up at the family home at irregular intervals, to ask her for money. She last saw him on 23rd August 1975."

"Druggie?" asked Jack.

Sandra shrugged. "Possibly, that's what the original investigation thought but we don't know. Anyway, when his mother realised she hadn't seen him for over six months, she went round to the squat and found it abandoned. That's when she called the police."

"What did they do?" Brian asked.

"Not much." Admitted Sandra, tapping the slim case-file. "They seem to have just gone through the motions. They interviewed neighbours but they were no help, they couldn't even agree on when the squat's occupants had flitted. So, finding no trace of Randall in hospitals or police cells and no obvious evidence of foul play, they told Mrs Randall that her son had probably moved to another squat or joined a commune or something and she'd probably hear from him again when he needed money."

"That's quite possible," Jack pointed out. "It was the time of 'Tune in, turn on and drop out'. Did they trace the squats other occupants and interview them?"

"Not according to the case file." Sandra said. "And, as it turns out, he had dropped out… of life altogether!" She added, dryly, picking up another photograph and attaching it to the board. The picture showed a partial skeleton, minus its skull, with tatters of clothing still clinging to the frame.

"This was discovered last week when contractors were tearing down some disused lockups in Whitechapel so a Housing Association could use the site to build affordable housing for key workers. DNA proves that the body is that of David Randall. Further tests show that he'd been dead for about thirty years. As he would appear to have been decapitated, foul play is suspected." She handed each man a copy of the slim case-file and watched as they leafed through its meagre contents.

Jack looked up. "Why have we got this?" he asked. "If the body was only discovered last week, surely it's an active investigation?"

"The Force has got its hands full with the 7/7 bombings and their aftermath so Strickland volunteered us. Although the body was only discovered recently, he must have been murdered some time in the nineteen seventies so the case is cold in that respect." Sandra answered.

"Was the head found with the rest of the body?" Brian asked.

Sandra shook her head. "No, that's still missing."

"So, are there any leads?" Gerry asked. "What about the others in the squat? Are they possible other victims or suspects?"

Sandra shrugged. "We don't know. The lock up where Randall was discovered and the area around it were searched pretty thoroughly and no other remains were found but that's not conclusive. It's obviously important that we trace them now. Jack, you and I are going to interview the parents. They live in Walton-on-Thames. There's also a sister, who is now married and lives in Esher. I've make arrangements for us to visit her afterwards. Gerry, I want you to go over the police reports and post-mortem results, see if there's anything there that could help us and then check out the lock-up where the body was found. Brian, research Randall's fellow squatters, I want to know if they're still alive and, if so, where they are now and what they're doing."

Sandra turned back to the whiteboard and scrawled,

Squat Occupants - Victims/Suspects?

Philip Henry,

Deirdre Page,

Thomas Sutcliffe,

Ethan Rayne

Rupert Giles.

She looked round. "Right, let's get started, shall we? Jack, get your coat."

T.B.C.