A/N: I didn't get the rights to Ashes to Ashes for Christmas (curses), so Kudos and BBC are still the overlords.

Thank you so much to everyone who read Chapter 1, and especially to my kind reviewers, Katie Duggan's Niece and Angervo. If anyone feels like reviewing this chapter, don't hold back...

For those who know their London history, I have to own up that I've made free with the timing, because, as we know, Alex's only Christmas in the Geneverse was 1981 (as she was in a coma at Christmas 1982), but the Barbican Centre only opened for business in March 1982. Also, for anyone who's a Barbican regular, I'm using the numbering of the floors (or levels) as it was in 1982. They were all renumbered some years later. Most confusing.

I picked the Barbican as the setting for this story, first, because it's so near Fenchurch East (in A2A S1E1 we see the Quattro going down nearby Beech Street) and secondly because the backstage security there really WAS that bad then, and remained so for years. Now their security is so tight that I've seen performers' relatives denied entry!

Just in case anyone notices - all the chapter headings are song titles or quotations. I wanted to make them all Christmas carols, but my ingenuity doesn't extend that far.

In case I don't publish another chapter before Friday, a happy, healthy, wealthy, Ashy 2016 to one and all!

"Right!" Gene rubbed his hands together. "Let's grill 'em. Nobody to come into this room till it's been checked for fingerprints. You." He scowled at the still quaking Josiah. "We'll need a list of everyone who you know's been in 'ere today so's we can take their prints. We'll want yours, too. Come on, everybody out. Bolly, with me."

Ray led them out to the backstage area and to two women, one in her fifties and the other in her twenties, who stood near the left-hand entrance. The younger clutched a large, glossy-covered hardback book and a pen. Both looked nervous. They were neatly dressed in long overcoats, and Alex could see Gene's disappointment at not finding another tits-in-a-jumper.

" 'Ello, ladies. DCI Gene Hunt. Who are you an' what 'ave you got to tell us?"

The younger woman spoke up. "I'm Kelly Barnett and this is my mother, Beatrice. We don't know if it's important, but - "

"That's for us to decide. Get it off your chests, ladies."

Alex sighed. Kelly looked up at him, clearly overawed by the Genie charm.

"We were waiting here to get autographs from the orchestra members in our book." She displayed its colourful cover, The Philadelphia Orchestra. "It's all about the orchestra and has pictures of all the players. We didn't want to gatecrash the party, but we thought that if we waited here, we might get some of them as they left. Just after ten, while someone was making a speech, a man with a violin case came by and we asked him to sign. We wouldn't have thought anything about it, except that we just heard Richard Morton say that all the orchestra members are still here. And that was well after this man left."

View halloo. "Could you describe 'im, love?"

Kelly considered. "About your height - "

"A bit shorter," Beatrice contradicted. "Five feet ten, eleven maybe."

"He was wearing a dark overcoat, rather like yours, but he was thinner than you," Kelly continued. "And it didn't have a velvet collar, I noticed that because it was turned up and his hat was pulled well down. Black hat, trilby or fedora I think."

"What did you see of 'is face?"

"A big, bushy moustache and glasses," Beatrice contributed. "Round lenses, like old fashioned NHS goggles."

"He was in a hurry, but that's not unusual after a concert," Kelly went on. "I tried to look for his picture in the book so that he could sign it, and he grabbed it from me, turned to the very end and signed on a blank half-page there. I thought maybe he'd joined the orchestra since the book was published, but now I'm wondering whether it was because he didn't belong to the orchestra at all. His autograph's an unreadable scrawl. That's nothing new, but - "

"It might be because 'e didn't want you to know 'is name?" Gene suggested.

"Yes."

"What about his violin case?" Alex asked. "Was it at all distinctive?"

Kelly considered. "Not really. Black, rubbed, well used, just like any other old violin case."

"Did you see which way 'e went when 'e left?"

"That way." Beatrice pointed to the door. "That door leads to the foyer, a small flight of steps and you're on Level 3, by the cloakroom."

"An' all the boys in the band are travellin' by coach an' stayin' at the same 'otel. Well done, girls. Was 'e wearing gloves when you stopped 'im?"

"No." Beatrice was very definite. "I know he wasn't, because he wouldn't have been able to turn the pages with gloves on."

"In that case we'll need to borrow this." He took the book from Kelly. "It's evidence. Got 'is fingerprints on that shiny cover an' maybe 'is name when 'e signed."

"Oh..." Kelly could not hide her disappointment. "But we'd been hoping to get more autographs while the orchestra are here."

"If your evidence helps Mr Peal to get his violin back, I'm sure the orchestra will be more than happy to sign your book for you," Alex said quickly. "Thank you very much, you've been a great help. Can you please give your names and addresses to our Detective Sergeant before you go, and come to the station tomorrow to give us a witness statement?"

"Of course. We'll be glad to do anything we can that will help."

"There's just one more thing," Beatrice added. "He didn't say much, but it sounded as though he had a foreign accent."

"What-a kind?"

"Something Latin, I'd say. Italian or maybe Spanish."

"Ta."

The ladies went off to give their details to Ray, and Gene turned to Alex.

"It's all about timing, Bolly. Peal left 'is girlfriend alone in the changing room - "

"Dressing room."

"Whatever. 'E left 'er there at nine forty-five. The girls said they stopped the bloke with the violin case during the speech, just after ten."

"But Mansfield said that he looked into the room just before ten, and it was empty," Alex objected.

"He didn't see anyone in there. Doesn't mean there wasn't anyone there. Let's 'ave a look."

Gene swept away, leaving Alex to hurry after him. He stopped outside the dressing room, covered the door handle with a handkerchief, and opened the door.

"Bols. Go in an' stand behind the door."

Alex obeyed. Gene closed the door, gave her a few seconds, and opened it. It opened to about sixty degrees before touching the wardrobe unit behind. Alex stood untouched in the gap between.

"Come on out, Bolly, I know you're in there."

She emerged. "So the thief was hiding behind the door when Mansfield looked in."

"Correct. Mansfield said 'e knocked first. Our fiddle-nicker must 'ave nipped in a couple of minutes before."

"About five to ten."

"Yeah. As you said, must 'ave been carrying 'is own case under 'is coat or maybe in a carrier bag. The party was in full swing an' nobody saw 'im going in. 'E was wearing gloves so's not to leave prints, but snagged one of 'em on the case an' 'ad to take 'em off, probably stuffed 'em in 'is pocket. May not even 'ave noticed 'e'd dropped one, it's black an' 'e wouldn't 'ave seen it under the table. Transferred the fiddle to 'is own case, closed the case on the table, an' was just about to beat it when Mansfield knocked. 'E'd just got time to 'ide behind the door before Mansfield opened it. If Mansfield 'ad walked into the room, 'e'd 'ave been rumbled, but 'is luck 'eld. Then the sponsor started 'is speech an' everyone was looking to the middle of the room, away from the changing rooms. Our fiddle-fiddler used the distraction to leg it. Nobody saw 'im leaving the changing room, but then fate did 'im dirt when the Barnetts stopped 'im. 'E got away to the entrance 'all - "

"Foyer."

" - but we've got the time 'e left an' a description."

"Glasses, moustache - don't you think that might have been a disguise? Even the accent might have been phoney."

"Could be," Gene admitted. "CHRIS!"

"Guv?" Chris skidded up to them like an eager puppy. "No witnesses yet. They were all at the party, weren't watching the doors - "

"We've got a sighting of a suspect who went out to the entrance 'all - "

"Foyer," Alex murmured.

" - shortly after ten. About five feet ten or eleven with a big tash an' glasses, black overcoat an' 'at. 'E was carrying a violin case when 'e left but might 'ave 'idden it under the coat. PS Walsh an' 'is mob are talking to the stewards out front - "

"Ushers," Alex corrected him.

"Whatever. You join 'em an' see if they've found any sightings."

"Roger that, Guv!"

Chris fled as Ray approached.

"We've been through everyone 'ere, Guv. Nobody but the Barnetts saw a thing. We've taken names an' addresses an' let 'em go. It's just the orchestra an' the backstage staff 'ere now."

Morton approached them. "Mr Hunt. Is there any news yet?"

"Weve got a couple of autograph 'unting witnesses who spotted a man with a fiddle case leavin' during the speech makin'. 'E went out that door. As you say all your boys are still 'ere, it looks like it was our thief. We've got a description, an' one of my officers is talkin' to the staff out there right now."

"So someone saw the violin being taken away, and didn't know to stop it." Morton looked crushed.

"It's a start," Alex said consolingly. "Tomorrow a police artist will work with the witnesses to create an image of our suspect, and then we can launch a public appeal. Someone may have seen him in the foyer or in the street outside. If we can find out which direction he took, it will help our search."

"Thank you so much," Morton said fervently. "Will you please let us know of any developments?"

"Of course we will."

"I know you'll do everything you can. In the meantime, is there anything more we can do here this evening? Joe's exhausted, and the full orchestra has a rehearsal tomorrow morning at ten."

"No, you can bugger off. You, Mansfield an' Wonderboy'll 'ave to come to the station tomorrow to give us your statements."

"Thank you, of course we will."

Morton and Mansfield moved away to round up the orchestra, just as Chris jogged up.

"No sightings from the ushers, Guv. They say ten o'clock was just when Poppy finished in the Barbican Theatre. There was a full 'ouse turning out, over a thousand people. The thief'd 'ave been able to lose himself in the crowd."

"Bugger. If our fiddle-nicker knew the timing, it might 'ave been why 'e make a break for it right then." He looked about him. "Nothing more we can do in 'ere right now. Get Walsh to put a uniform guard on the dressing room an' the door to the foyer - " he glared at Alex - "until Forensics 'ave gone over the place an' taken dabs. We'll want dabs from everyone who went in an' out of the dressing room today to match up with the prints on the case an' the Barnetts' book. Right, let's take a look out 'ere an' see where the bastard went."

Using a handkerchief to cover the door handle, he opened the door which Beatrice had pointed out. It gave out a small area with a short flight of steps leading them up to Level 3, the main stalls level for the Hall, with the cloakroom on their right and the doors to the auditorium on their left. Bennett approached them as they came up the stairs.

"Mr Hunt. Your officer here has told me about the man with a violin case who came through here at ten. I'm afraid none of my staff saw him, the foyer was mayhem just then with the theatre turning out - "

"We know," Gene snapped. "You know this place. Which ways could 'e 'ave taken to get out of 'ere?"

"Well, from here he could have gone out of the doors over there which lead to the patrons' car park. Or he could have taken the stairs behind us, or the flight over there which leads up to the Theatre, or one of the lifts over there. Any of those would take him to Level Five, where he'd have had a choice of exiting via the Lakeside Terrace, where he could have either taken the walkway to Aldersgate or cut through the Barbican Estate to Moorgate, or he could have left via the Silk Street entrance, where he could have gone north along Chiswell Street or headed along Beech Street to Aldersgate, Golden Lane or Whitecross Street - "

"An' there's buses an' tubes in Aldersgate an' Moorgate," Chris contributed.

"Oh, deep joy. A crime scene with more exits than a Swiss cheese."

"One thing, with so many patrons leaving the Centre at that time, there's a possibility that someone may have spotted him," Alex said helpfully. "Or a local resident may have seen him if he took a short cut through the Estate. The sooner we go public on this one, the better."

"I'll leave that to you," Bennett said gratefully. "Please let us know if anyone at the Centre can do anything to help. We can display appeal posters."

"You can start by tightening up your security," Gene snarled.

"You can do more than that," Alex added. "You can get your box office to give us all the names and addresses they have, of people who booked tickets for tonight's concert, and the locations of their seats. Phone numbers too, where they have them. It's likely that the thief attended the concert, and that he was in the stalls to be sure of easier access to the backstage area. For tickets that were booked over the counter, give us the credit card details to enable us to trace the purchaser."

"I'll get them onto that, first thing tomorrow. Of course, the thief may have booked in person and paid in cash."

"He may have, to avoid being traced," Alex acknowledged. "But it'll give us a start."

"Thank you. If any of my staff come up with anything, I'll tell them to inform your station direct."

"You do that." Gene turned to his expectant team. "Home. An' don't spare the Quattro."

TBC