Said And Done Chapter 1
As Gene turned his back to the house and made his way to the Cortina he allowed the reassuring smile to slip from his lips and let his true feelings of hopelessness and desperation seep through his features. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. He knew how badly she needed his constant reassurance and the glimpses of hope he offered but it completely drained him of energy. This act, this pretence; speaking words of comfort, making promises; all of which he knew were empty gestures. He had told her that he would go through the now familiar routine of phoning his contacts to see if they had any new information and would contact her when he had finished. He already knew what message he would be giving her when he was done and he also knew that the silent tears would follow.
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As he walked into CID, Gene's manner made it abundantly clear that he did not wish to be approached or spoken to. He wanted to get the phone calls out of the way before turning his thoughts to police work. After shutting his office door forcefully and closing the blinds, Gene sat down heavily in his chair and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. He thrust his hand into the drawer, pushing it right to the back where he knew he'd stashed it the last time he'd used it. After a minute of rifling through odds and ends, Gene finally withdrew his hand from the drawer, clutching a well worn piece of paper. On it were three names: Sally Culls, Tom Salford and Jack Lithgoe, each followed by a phone number. Gene dialled the first number.
"Erm….. 'ello. Is that you, Sal? It's Gene 'ere again. Just wonderin' if you 'eard anything lately that might be of interest to me"
As Gene listened to the reply at the other end he nodded slightly in a dejected manner and replied "Well, thanks anyway Sal. Just keep me posted, alright? Thanks again. See ya"
This exchange was repeated twice more with only the name being changed. When he had finished, Gene went over to his filing cabinet and poured himself a generous measure of Scotch, emptying the glass in one swift gulp. He poured himself another and took it over to his desk where he sat down and stared at the phone on his desk. Blowing out a Scotch-filled breath, Gene lifted the receiver and dialled a number that he didn't need written down in order to remember it. It rang several times before being picked up and an elderly, female voice inquired softly "Hello?"
Gene licked his lips before replying "Mum, it's Gene. I've phoned round like I said I would…….there's nothing new to report."
As expected, there was a quiet sniffle and small, hiccupping breaths as his mother cried over yet another fruitless effort.
Gene responded in the only way he could think of and murmured "I'm sorry" before hanging up.
Eleven months.
That's how long this had been going on. His mother's life had been destroyed in that time. Her every waking moment was devoted to waiting to hear of any new information. Shopping for food and other essentials wasn't even considered. She would have starved by now if it wasn't for Gene and the missus bringing food. Her favourite TV shows were long forgotten and her trips to the bingo hall had ended, along with the friendships she had found there. Gene knew this isolation wasn't good for her but she refused to go out of the house, with the simple explanation "Someone might ring while I'm out". Gene hated seeing his mother like this but he hated himself even more for feeling so helpless. Usually, Gene knew exactly what situations he was dealing with and what the solutions were. This feeling of helplessness was unchartered territory for him and he didn't like it at all.
As he polished off a third Scotch, Gene's thoughts turned to the root cause of this present situation. His blood began to boil and his face contorted in sheer anger and hatred as he spat out the only thing he could manage.
"BASTARD!!!!"