A/N: I don't own Ashes to Ashes... you know the rest.

Many thanks to everyone who's taken time out from their Christmas and New Year celebrations to read the first two chapters of this story, with especial thanks to those who are following and faveing and to Katie Duggan's Niece for being such a faithful reviewer. Here's Chapter 3. I don't think I'll have time to finish posting by Twelfth Night, but I'll try not to make it too far into January.

As ever, reviews would be welcome...

The following morning, the station was a hive of activity. Shaz had already sent an alert to ports and airports, but Gene knew that with the Christmas holiday season about to kick off, it would not be possible for Customs to check all baggage for something which could be hidden in a cabin trunk or a large size suitcase. He was beginning to wish that the bastard had nicked a double bass.

Morton turned up at nine o'clock precisely to give Ray his statement before racing off to a rehearsal. Josiah followed about an hour later, accompanied by Mansfield. He still looked pale and distraught, but he took in his surroundings with wide, wondering eyes. Remembering what Gene had gleaned from him about his fascination with TV cop shows, Alex could not help thinking that if it were not for the gravity of the situation, visiting a Met police station would have been his version of Heaven on earth.

He gave Alex his statement, speaking clearly and confidently despite his obvious anxiety. She respected him for it.

"Thanks very much, Josiah," she said kindly when they had finished. "If you think of anything else that might help us, please let us know."

"Oh, of course I will."

"How long are you over here?"

"Until the twenty-second. I have - at least, I had - another engagement to play with the Philadelphia Orchestra at the Barbican, in their Christmas charity concert. It was going to be the other time I played the Stradivarius. But I don't know what will happen now."

"Won't they let you play if you can get another violin?"

"I've got another violin. My own, though of course it isn't as good as the Stradivarius. Nothing is. But maybe I'll never be allowed to play again, after losing it. Maybe this is the end of my career."

"Don't worry." Alex spoke with confidence. "I'm sure that before you're thirty, you'll be one of the greatest violinists in the world with a string of best-selling recordings to your name."

Josiah looked amazed. "Well, I certainly hope so."

"We'll keep in touch, of course. You're staying with the orchestra? Do you have any family members with you?"

"No. My mother was going to come with me, but my father's ill and she couldn't leave him. Mr Mansfield's acting as my guardian for the trip, my family have known him for years. I wasn't going to come, with Pop ill, but he and Mom both told me not to lose my chance to play here." Tears formed in his eyes. "I wish now I hadn't. I had to call Mom last night and tell her what's happened. She's beside herself. I had to beg her not to tell Pop. He's been feeling better, and this could set him back."

Poor boy, alone and so far from home.

"I'm sorry, Josiah. We'll do everything we can for you, I promise. Just bear in mind that it could take time."

His face fell. "If only you could find it in time for my concert - "

"We'll try," Alex said gently. "But you will understand that we can't always solve crimes to order. Real life crime solving isn't always like Charlie's Angels nabbing the villain just before the credits roll."

He blushed. "Of course not. I'm just so grateful for everything you're doing for me."

She turned him over to Shaz for tea and biscuits - "I don't care if you raid the Guv's Garibaldis, just make sure he gets something" - and turned her attention to Mansfield. Like Josiah, he had nothing to add to what he had already told the team the previous night, but it was important to make sure that their recollections of the events surounding the theft were recorded.

"Thank you very much, Mr Mansfield," she said courteously when they had finished. "Have you informed Mr Van Hatten of the robbery yet?"

He grimaced. "I had to ring him last night after Mr Morton and I had got Joe and the orchestra back to the hotel. One of the hardest telephone calls of my life. Mr Morton offered to do it for me, but I felt that I owed it to Joe. I'm acting as his guardian while we're in London."

"I know, he told me. How did Mr Van Hatten take the news?"

"To start with he went out of his mind with rage, who wouldn't, but funnily enough, once he'd got over the first outburst he was almost philosophical. He said that the violin's already been stolen twice in its history and been found again, so in a way he isn't surprised that it's happened again."

"Really?" Alex had not had time to read up anything about the violin's history. At times like this she would have sold her soul to have Google in the 1980s. "Is that common knowledge?"

"To music historians and enthusiasts, yes, it is. It's one of Stradivari's most famous instruments. Its story must be in a lot of encyclopaedias and reference books. Why, do you suppose that the knowledge that it's been stolen before, might have inspired last night's thief to try again?"

"You're ahead of me, Mr Mansfield. I think it may well have done. Do you know why and how it was taken before?"

"The first was in the 1920s, an orchestra member claimed to have taken it home in mistake for his own and then thrown it away in terror when he found what he'd done, but it was found that he was in debt and had stolen the violin in the hope of getting enough money to clear himself. It didn't work, the instrument was so well known that nobody would touch it. In the end he put it in a left luggage office and sent the ticket to the owner. Bad luck for him that the clerk at the office remembered what he looked like and was able to give the police a full description. They took the clerk along to the orchestra's next concert to identify him, and he was arrested. The other time, in the thirties, a loose-screw fan stole it from the owner's dressing room, took it home and set it up in some sort of shrine. He'd been seen hanging around the stage door, so the next time he showed up the police followed him home and found the violin there."

"Interesting. Thank you very much."

"Thank God, Mr Van Hatten was very good last night about not blaming Joe outright."

Not yet, anyway, Alex thought gloomily. If we don't find the violin, it might be a different matter.

"He's mad at the Hall for not having better security," Mansfield added.

"So are we."

"He's going to give every assistance. One of his aides is flying over by Concorde right now with photos, videos, recordings, and the full scale replica which Mr Van Hatten always keeps on display."

"Leaving the original in the vault."

"Yes. I know Joe doesn't approve of that, but I know he would never have stolen it. Poor kid. I've known him since he was in diapers. Music's his life. This has ruined what should have been the greatest moment of his career so far. I just can't understand how anyone could do such a thing to a fourteen-year-old boy."

"Someone who wanted the violin so much that they didn't care whom they hurt, I'm afraid," Alex said with a sigh. "As DCI Hunt will tell you, scum is scum, wherever you go. Even in concert halls."

"He loves police movies, he never thought he'd spend his first time in London involved in a crime. I know you'll do everything you can for him."

"Of course we will."

The two of them left, and Alex sat at her desk to start profiling the thief. Her talk with Mansfield had given her plenty of food for thought.

Shaz parked a cup of tea beside her. "There you go, Ma'am. Help keep you going. Chris has told me all about last night."

"Bless you, Shaz. Is the Guv letting you do anything on this case except making the tea?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'm liaising with the box office," she said proudly.

"Any joy so far?"

"They retain name and address details for anyone who books by post or phone and has their tickets sent to them. That gives us quite a lot of the audience. If someone already on their records booked this concert at the box office, chances are that'll have been recorded too. But if it was a first time booker at the box office, we're out of luck. They don't retain credit card details for security reasons."

"Or the thief might have paid in cash, or he might not have been at the concert at all and just sneaked in afterwards."

"Maybe, but don't you think he would have been there, Ma'am? To gloat over the violin before he stole it?"

"Good point. I'll add that to the profile. We'll make a psychologist of you yet."

Shaz flushed with pleasure. "One thing, Ma'am, they say the concert was sold out weeks in advance, so the thief won't have decided to come along and steal it at the last minute, unless he was risking getting a returned ticket. They're going to give me a seating plan showing where everyone was sitting. That'll help if we need to ask for witnesses."

They got a lucky break an hour later when another witness came forward. Emma Owen, a slight, dark, shy girl in her twenties presented herself at the station and was instantly interviewed by Gene and Alex.

"I told Mr Bennett last night that I didn't remember anything, but thinking about it overnight I wondered whether I might have seen something. I told him this morning, and he told me to come straight to you."

"What's that, love?"

'I was on duty in the Level 3 cloakroom last night."

"The one just by the stairs leading to the backstage area?"

"That's right. Just after the concert ended, it was bedlam as usual with everyone wanting their things at once. There was one man in a big overcoat who collected a large carrier bag which only had one item in it. It felt big and hard, and looking back on it, it might just have been a violin case."

"You didn't look inside?"

"No, we can if we think there's a need to - the Centre reserves that right, but in practice we don't unless we suspect that it's something that breaks our rules, like a weapon. This close to Christmas, a lot of people leave their gift shopping in the cloakroom when they go into the Theatre or the Hall, there isn't much legroom in either venue. At the time I thought it funny that he should have left the bag and not the coat, it gets very warm in the Hall and he must have sweltered all through the concert. And I noticed that as soon as he'd got the bag, he headed straight down the stairs."

"Right into the backstage area?"

"There's an entrance to the stalls down there, too. I thought maybe he'd suddenly realised that he'd left something behind, maybe his umbrella or his programme. Then I had to serve someone else and forgot all about it, until this morning."

"Do you remember 'is face?"

She frowned. "I'm afraid not, there wasn't much of it visible thanks to the coat and hat, but I think he had glasses."

"You didn't see 'im again?"

"No, I'm afraid I didn't. But Mr Bennett told us that the thief probably left around ten, and I wouldn't have seen anything then. The cloakroom was under siege because the theatre was turning out."

"Thank you, Miss Owen," Alex said politely. "You've made a connection for us. Would you please give your statement to our Detective Sergeant before you leave?"

"Of course."

She left, and Gene turned to Alex.

"Well, that solves one puzzle. We'd been wonderin' 'ow 'e could get a violin case into the 'All without someone spotting it. Now it looks like 'e left it in the cloakroom, picked it up after the show, an' nipped backstage."

"Yes, and every piece of information we get adds to what we know about him."

Gene rolled his eyes. "So surprise me. You're profiling 'im already."

"That's my job, Guv."

"So, what do you make of someone who goes to all this trouble to nick a lump of wood an' catgut?"

Alex regarded him thoughtfully. "You resent the amount of time we're spending on this case, don't you?"

"Too bloody right I do," Gene seethed. "We should be spendin' our time solving important crimes. Not looking for some poncey fiddle."

"But you wouldn't mind if if was a jewellery blag."

" 'Course not!"

"Just think of the violin as a precious jewel. It's utterly unique. A thing of beauty which has brought joy to countless thousands down the years."

"An' which 'as been livin' in a millionaire's vault for eight of 'em."

"That could be one reason why it was taken. But not by Josiah."

"Back to my question. Profile our thief."

"Let's fire up the whiteboard and I can tell the whole team."

"Done."

They emerged into the main office to find Ray giving a blushing Emma the eye and the Barnetts talking to Chris. Gene headed purposefully for the whiteboard, grabbed a pen, and started writing.

"Give the civilians a chance to get clear, an' we'll address the troops. You get cracking on your profile."

Half an hour later, the whiteboard was covered in writing and diagrams, and the team were sitting in a semicircle listening to Gene and Alex.

"Kidnapping last night backstage at the Barbican 'All. Victim, the Golden Straddyvarius, a violin worth millions." Gene gestured to a diagram of the backstage area, with Josiah's dressing room marked with a cross. "Security, zero minus ten. Time, about ten o'clock. Witness sightings of a man in a big overcoat with hat, big tash an' glasses with an Eye-tye accent leaving around ten."

"But that might be a disguise," Alex interrupted.

"Left with a violin case, an' 'e wasn't a member of the orchestra. Our prime suspect. Now, what 'ave we got?"

Ray put his hand up. "Guv. If we find the fiddle, 'ow will we know it's the right one? They all look the same."

Chris stood up. "We've 'ad a faxed description from Mr Van Hatten, the owner." He produced a crumpled sheet of paper.

"Well, give it 'ere for the board, you numbskull!"

Chris handed over the paper, and Alex scanned it before attaching it to the board. "Thank you, Chris. It gives a very full desciption."

"But they all look the same," Ray persisted.

Alex was reading the description. "Quite apart from its distinctive colour, it can be identified by a piece of paper glued inside the violin which can be seen through the F-holes. It has Antonini Stradivari's signature and the date the violin was made."

"An' what the 'ell's an F-'ole, apart from the obvious?" Gene demanded. Ray and a couple of the others snickered, and Alex quelled them with a look.

"They help the instrument to project sound more effectively," she explained.

Gene was unimpressed. "Can we get on with ID'ing the fiddle-nicker as well as the fiddle? Forensics 'ave just reported on the prints. We've got dabs from Peal an' Mansfield, and we're rounding up the others who went in an' out of the changing room so's we can eliminate 'em. In the meantime there's just one set that was on the inside door 'andle, the fiddle case an' the Barnetts' book. We're concentrating on those."

"Anyone we know, Guv?" Alex asked.

"You knew the answer to that one, didn't you, Bolly? No, we don't. Care to give us your wisdom on who'd be mental enough to nick a lump of wood an' guts worth a pools win?"

Alex assumed her lecturer's stance. "Think of it as an art theft. Something beautiful and valuable but highly identifiable. Of course, there's a possibility that it was a professional job. Stealing to order, maybe for some millionaire who wants to keep it and gloat over it, just as its current owner has been doing for eight years."

"Like Dr No with that portrait of Wellington?" Chris contributed.

"Just like that." Alex beamed a smile of approval. "Goya's portrait of the Duke of Wellington was stolen from the National Gallery in 1961, only nineteen days after it went on display. It was still missing at the time the film was made. It was returned in 1965. It turned out that the painting had been stolen by a rank amateur who had struck lucky."

"A man who objected to having to pay for his telly licence, wasn't it, Ma'am?" Shaz asked.

"That's right. Kempton Bunton. And I think that the violin was stolen by a rank amateur, too."

"Bloody 'ell," Ray expostulated. "Why'd anyone want to do that, Ma'am? They'd 'ave to keep it 'idden. What's an ordinary bloke do with that thing?"

"An' why d'you think it was an amateur?" Gene demanded.

"You think it was too, don't you, Guv?"

Gene looked smug. "Made too many silly mistakes for a pro."

"Such as?"

"A pro would've used leather or plastic gloves. 'E'd 'ave known woolly gloves'd leave fibres behind an' that they'd snag in the case. When one did snag, 'e panicked an' took 'em off. A pro would've known 'ow important it was not to leave prints. Then 'e left one behind, an' when 'e got the chance to get away during the speeches, 'e let the Barnetts stop 'im. A pro would've just said "can't stop, got a train to catch," an' walked on."

"Right on, Guv."

Ray put his hand up. "An' 'e was in such a hurry to leg it, 'e' was carrying the case openly, an' that was 'ow the Barnetts spotted 'im. Must 'ave still 'ad the carrier bag with 'im as we didn't find it backstage. If 'e was a pro, 'e'd 'ave taken a few seconds longer to put it in the bag."

"Also true," Alex agreed. "Although he might have thought that the violin case would have looked less suspicous in those surroundings than carrying a bulging bag."

Gene took charge again. "You 'aven't answered my question. Why did an amateur nick it in the first place?"

"Because it has a history of being stolen by amateurs. Two have succeeded but been caught shortly afterwards. He wants to be the one to succeed without being caught."

"But why would 'e nick it at all?"

"Because it was beautiful, unique, and suddenly within his reach. I think he's a musician too. He knows that the violin usually lives in a vault. He longed to liberate it. A desire too strong to be denied. Even if he could only ever play it for himself."

"An' 'e was prepared to risk getting nicked an' years of bird for that?"

Alex smiled. "Just think back to when you were a child looking in a toyshop window. Wasn't there ever a train set or a football that you wanted so badly you'd have done anything to have it?"

"That Meccano crane," Chris said dreamily. "Saw it in Kendals' window one Christmas. I was ten. Would 'ave killed for it."

"You've got the idea, Chris," Alex said warmly. "Our thief wanted that violin to play, and play with."

"To gloat over in secret like that millionaire," Gene said gloomily.

"What millionaire?" Chris was confused.

"My guess is that he comes to the Barbican regularly and knows that the backstage security is rubbish," Alex continued. "The box office has told Shaz that the event was sold out weeks in advance, so it looks as though he's been planning this for some time, possibly ever since it was announced that Josiah would be playing the Stradivarius. We'll have to see how long ago it was announced in the publicity. Shaz, get the Barbican to tell us that."

"Brilliant. Now we'll 'ave to raid every amateur an' professional fiddler in the country."

"Hopefully that won't be necessary," Alex said quickly. "We need to catch him out."

"Why do I get the feeling that you're about to suggest some mad, hare brained scheme that's going to drop us all into about twelve feet of soft brown stuff?"

"Ah, Hunt. How's the investigation going?"

The Chief Constable had wafted into the office without anyone noticing. A deferential Viv trailed in his wake. Alex had the satisfaction of seeing Gene scowl and then start like a guilty thing before recovering his equilibrium.

"Well, thank you, Sir. We've got witness sightings of a prime suspect who was seen leaving the backstage area with a violin case. The orchestra were all accounted for backstage 'alf an hour later. The witnesses are with the ID artist now. 'E left fingerprints, but we 'aven't got a match on them."

"So what are you going to do to find him and retrieve the violin?" the Chief Constable demanded smoothly.

"DI Drake's just been profiling 'im for us, Sir. She 'as a plan."

"Yes, I heard your opinion of that as I was coming in," the Chief Constable said drily. "So this is the famous DI Drake! Strange to find a woman in your position, my dear."

Alex's hackles rose, and much to her pleasure, she saw Gene glare behind the Chief Constable's back. Despite all the macho put-downs, the insults, the pathetic sexist sideswipes, he doesn't like someone else doing anyone in his team down. Behind her, she heard Ray and Slate snicker again, and Gene switched his glare to them until they subsided.

"I hope to blaze trails, Sir," she said demurely. "DCI Hunt has just summarised our findings so far. We have sightings of our prime suspect inside the Centre, but we need to trace his movements after he left."

"And how do you propose to do that, my dear?" His patronising tone made Alex's blood boil.

"We must go public as soon as possible," she said firmly. "WPC Granger here has made the point that the thief probably attended the concert to watch the violin being played before he stole it. We can look for anyone in the audience who might have seen him. A statement from a cloakroom attendant suggests he was wearing his overcoat in the auditorium, it would have made him stick out like a sore thumb."

"Publicity! What an excellent idea, my dear."

"He appears to have left the Centre at the same time as the theatre audience. That gave him the chance to lose himself in the crowd, but it also means that it gave plenty of people a chance to notice him. We can appeal for anyone who spotted him leaving or in the surrounding streets afterwards."

"You were speaking about catching him out as I came in?"

"That's right, Sir. My profile indicates that the thief was an amateur. The more publicity we give the case, the prouder he'll feel of having pulled off the robbery, and the more he'll wish he could boast about it. Which may make him take a false step, maybe by playing it when it can be heard. And that's when we catch him."

"Excellent. I have Shaw Taylor's ear. I'll get the case a slot in tomorrow's edition of Police Five."

"Er - " Gene struggled for speech. "You were, er, looking for a front man, Sir?"

"I was thinking more of a front woman," the Chief Constable said sternly. "Let our very own DI Drake show us the delightful, feminine side of the Met."

Alex swallowed her wrath. "I'll be pleased to act as an ambassador for the Force, Sir."

"Splendid. The P5 team will be in touch."

He swept out. Alex could see Gene's secret relief, while outwardly he tried to look offended at having been passed over.

"Right. Apart from making our very own DI Drake a telly star, we're 'ere to solve a robbery."

"So am I, Guv," she said briskly. "Without necessarily being delightful or feminine. Can we see what else we've got?"

TBC