Disclaimer: Still don't own…

A/N: This is the chapter I referred to back in Chapter 10 of Natovnia. It helped prompt me back into writing after a very long hiatus. So three big cheers for the old guy at the top of my street who needs to cut back the trees and clear the broken lawn furniture from his yard! Hip hip…

Chapter Seven;
Yanletti

"Sarge?"

Stuart glanced up from his computer as Nate's lively young voice wafted across the CID room. He was waving two DVD cases. "The CCTV footage from the Harley?" Stuart asked. Nate nodded eagerly. "Good boy." Swiping them from the PC's hand he inserted one into the DVD drive of his computer and clicked play. It took a few seconds to whir into life, time Nate and Mel Ryder took to get themselves comfortable on nearby chairs and tables. Eventually it came up showing an angle of the bar, a side-on view. It was too early for the attack so Stuart slammed fast-forward and glanced at Nate. "What's the angle on the other one?"

"Upstairs."

Stuart frowned. "He's got this huge club but only has two cameras – one on the bar and one upstairs?" Nate shrugged again. "Benjamin Holman may or may not be dodgy, but he certainly is another D-word: dumb." Mel snickered softly before Stuart noted he was nearing 11am and slowed down the fast-forward. After a few minutes of playing and skipping through they spotted movement at the bar. Ben appeared on screen, dumping an armful of papers on the bar. He turned in the direction of the camera and Stuart noted he was bruise-less. Attack obviously hadn't happened yet. Then Holman's head snapped up and Stuart guessed it wasn't far away. He went off the screen for a minute and when he returned it was being thrown back against the bar. The assailant had his back to the camera throughout the entire attack. Two blows with a metal pipe of some sort of the chest and leg, and one kick to the hand. It was quite a lot like what Holman had said, except for one thing…

"He was facing his attacker the entire time." Stuart frowned at the prone figure on his bar floor. "He knows perfectly well who beat him up."

*

Millie followed Max out of the car and they looked up at the small house before them. It was run-down, the front railing collapsed into the garden and the small patch of front lawn covered in broken garden furniture, bags of twigs and old toys. It was a dump. "He lives here?" Millie asked, frowning as the front gate buckled beneath her hand. It had definitely seen better days.

"Yeah." Max joined her on the front walkway. "Nice place."

Millie looked up at it with a frown. "Looks like the kind of place an old cat lady would live in." Max glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "You know? Run out, start throwing cats at you."

Max hid a smile as he took a few steps up to the front door and rang the doorbell. He stepped back down to join Millie at the bottom of the stairs just as the wooden door opened and an old woman appeared. "Don't speak too soon." He said out of the corner of his mouth, Millie biting back a grin as Max flipped out his warrant card. Millie followed. "Ma'am, I'm DS Carter, this is PC Brown." Millie smiled at the woman as her eyes danced over the pair, assessing them. "Is Mr. Yanletti here?"

"He's got a VISA you know. He has a right to be here."

"We're not immigration ma'am. We're here about an assault we suspect Mr. Yanletti may know something about."

"He's a good boy, he didn't do anything." The woman protested, lowering her eyebrows like they'd just insulted the boy.

"We just need to speak to him please." Max tried again.

She nodded then turned back inside. "Andrei. Andrei." She said something in Flemish that neither officer recognized and a minute later the young Belgian teen stood in the doorway.

"Andrei Yanletti?" Max asked. The boy nodded tentatively, glancing up at the old lady. She simply scowled at the two police officers. "Could we ask you a few questions regarding your whereabouts this morning between the times of 11 and two?"

The lady spoke up. "He was here, with me."

Millie frowned and Max continued. "The whole time Mrs…"

"Ms. Greg. And yes, the whole time. I didn't go out, I stayed in and we watched television."

"What did you watch?" Millie asked, trying to call the woman's bluff.

"There was a four-hour marathon of Absolutely Fabulous from 10 to 2." She reached behind her and drew up a television guide, stabbing it with her finger. "There's your proof." It was anything but proof, but they couldn't really discredit it either. "Who is Andrei supposed to have attacked?"

"A local bar owner." Max looked sternly at the boy and he looked away. "Do you have any idea who it could be mister Yanletti?"

"Holman," Andrei replied, his words heavily accented but easy enough to understand.

Max nodded. "That's right. He was beaten up this morning by a young man, and we suspect that this young man was you."

"Prove it!" Ms. Greg yelled as Andrei muttered a soft 'no'.

As Max glared down the older lady, Millie lowered herself to meet Andrei's gaze. "Andrei, why do you hate Ben Holman? Why did you trash his bar?"

Andrei opened his mouth to reply, but Ms. Greg beat him to the punch. "We're done with the questions. Unless you have proof he's involved or you arrest him, he's not answering any more of your accusations." She shoved him back inside rather forcefully. "Good day." Then, without another word she slammed the door in their faces.

"Um, okay, thank you for your time then," Millie muttered, raising her eyebrows at Max. He shook his head and, stepping past a caving in lawn table, started back to the car.

"What did you think? Was he the attacker?" Millie asked as she pulled open the passenger side door.

"I don't know. The old lady was a bit knowledgeable though. She knew too much about the system, like she's been here before."

"She didn't let Andrei get a word in edgewise. He looked scared of her." She gave a small smile. "To be honest I was a little scared of her."

"Me too." Max tapped the roof of the car, looking back at the house as the front curtain moved. Mrs. Greg was watching to make sure they were leaving. "Look, call her in, run a check, she's far too weird for my liking."

Millie frowned. "Weird? Like, weird how?"

"Like..." Max raised an arm and feigned throwing something, doing a scarily good impersonation of a scared cat. "Reow." Millie snickered then grabbed her radio and called in the woman's details.


A/N:
To clear up, last chapter I referred to epilepsy as a disease, this was a mistake on my part not through lack of knowledge of the condition but through phrasing. Epilepsy is not a disease, you can't catch it by going near people who have it, and in many senses nor should it be seen as a condition because for many people its not a major burden on their lives. Epilepsy isn't cancer or emphysema, it can't kill you and it's not like the black plague, you can't catch it by being near others. It is, however, something very few understand. An Australian rugby league hero who had epilepsy once had one of his convulsions described as satanic, but it's not something wrong or horrible. To learn more about it go to epilepsy (dot) com and help raise awareness so more people understand that it's not something to fear…