Chapter 9
Her face was as pale and ashen as the corpse on a slab whose photo was pinned to the wall. She could see the mutters and the whispers around her, the officers assuming she'd been overdoing it the night before. But as she'd told Kim, she doesn't go out that night.
"And I don't 'do' today at all," Em whispered, brushing her fringe from her eye and trying to disappear into her chair. The date was everywhere she looked, like it was taunting her, reminding her at every opportunity that it was the beginning of that week, the first of the days she truly dreaded. On the calendar, on the board, scrawled on the piece of paper on her desk... 25th June.
"Another body turned up yesterday," Gene paced the room, pointing to the board, "this one wasn't a dealer, just a petty crook. We know he was from the same area. Small patches of time inside from robbing houses and shops in the area. Known user."
"Overdose?" Jake asked.
"Stabbed in the throat."
"Oh shit," Marci blanched and looked for all the world as though she might have to make a speedy exit.
"Are you feeling off-colour again, DC Fell?" Gene demanded, "only you can't use the food poisoning excuse four times in a week. Buy now you should have learnt to avoid the canteen."
"No, I'm fine," Marci said quietly, not looking at all fine.
Jake looked at her as the coffee in her hands spilled over.
"Marci, you're shaking," he said quietly.
"I'll be fine in a minute," Marci hissed, desperate to shed the attention that had settled on her hands, "it's just the end of a migraine. I just need to take some pills, I'll feel better soon."
"If we can stop playing doctors and nurses for five minutes," Gene barked, "I'd like to draw your attention to the gentleman on the board whose condition is a bit beyond help!"
Alex decided that Gene was on the verge of overheating and did her best to take over while he cooled down a little.
"The man in question is Connor Riley," she began, "a witness claims she saw him arguing with another man earlier in the day. She says that local residents have witnessed drugs and money changing hands on that patch in the past but she didn't recognise the dealer."
"They were arguing about drugs?" Jake asked.
"So she believes"
"Every granny's up on smack, dope and poppers these days, didn't you know?" Gene said sarcastically.
Alex ignored him.
"Em," she turned to the odd woman out in the room, the witness will be coming in to give a formal description of the man that she saw," Alex continued, "which is where you come in. We'll be needing a photo-fit to broadcast on the news."
"It's not really my usual territory," Em said awkwardly, "tattoos... web designing... splatfic fan art..."
"So pretend it's a tattoo and get his face emblazoned on your backside," Gene snapped, "you're a part of this station now, like it or not. Start earning yer keep." He began to pace towards his office door before glancing behind him with a scowl. "No one needs that many pencils sharpened." As the door opened in his presence and he stomped through Em braced herself for further attacks but he was out of words so he simply slammed the door behind him, knocking the calendar from the wall.
"He's happier than usual," Jake muttered before picking up the calendar. The page had flopped over to July which made him panic. "Shit," he cursed, "Iforgot it's Rob's birthday on the second."
"The second?" Em turned cold. Her eyes flickered with anxiety and her face turned paler still as Alex caught the strain in her face.
"Em?" she asked questioningly, "what's wrong?"
Em made a valiant effort at wrestling her emotions under control as they threatened to spiral out of the door, taking her along with them.
"Its," she swallowed, hanging her head as she whispered, it's my birthday too."
"Funny that," Gene said, the door swinging back open just in time to catch the end of the conversation, "because that's not what it says in your file."
"What?" Em looked stricken. She felt daunted by Gene and disliked his sharp tongue but those words had shaken her so terribly that she started to tremble.
"It says February," he said as he paced through CID.
"Well it isn't," She could feel her face flushing as everyone turned to stare at her, thinking she was ten types of crazy, "the file is wrong."
"I'm not sending you a card so I don't care which bloody month you declare yerself a years older," Gene snapped, "I just want you to put those bloody sharpened pencils to use and draw me a bloody suspect," he grumbled, "so many pointy things around here we're being mistaken for a hedgehog breeding facility."
~xXx~
She wasn't much the party type, much less when it came to family parties. Come to think of it, she wasn't much the family type ether. Didn't really get along with them. Maybe she was in the wrong. Maybe she needed to make more of an effort. And with a whole branch of the family visiting from overseas maybe this was a good time to do it.
The girl stared in the mirror as she fixed roller after roller in her hair. Make an effort just this once. It was a hot, sweltering day and with the windows open, the radio blaring out and the excitement of the first day of the summer holidays in the air she felt on top of the world.
Slave to the Rhythm came to an end as she fixed the last roller and reached for the nail varnish instead. Do it nice and early, give it time to dry... don't even think about chipping as much as the bloody England flags...
"...Carrying on with the top ten at ten," the DJ's voice sounded as cheerful as she felt, "here's another classic, this time from Talking Heads!"
The girl sat on the edge of the bed, opened the pale blue varnish and began to work on her nails as her ears pricked up and she felt a tingle travel down her spine.
# ...You may find yourself living in a shotgun shack
You may find yourself in another part of the world
You may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile
You may find yourself in a beautiful house with a beautiful wife
You may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?... #
It was strange, that song seemed to crop up in her life whenever she was heading for a major change. It had done for at least two years. She wondered what excitement was coming up for her. Life was good, and the world her oyster.
~xXx~
#...Letting the days go by, let the water hold me down
Letting the days go by, water flowing underground
Into the blue again after the money's gone
Once in a lifetime, water flowing underground …#
Em looked up angrily, her hand covering one eye as a headache started to thump around her temples.
"Can you turn that off, please?" she said crossly. She tried to ask politely but her desperation to stop the damn song from playing drove her to send a dirty glare in the direction of Poirot who was attempting to do an impression of the song's video. He pulled a face, made comments about temperamental artists and finally switched it off.
"Thank you," Em breathed a sigh of relief. She closed her eyes and tried hard to cool down. The radio had not been her friend since she'd arrived. Wasn't she supposed to hear messages over that? This wasn't a message, just a two-fingered salute.
"No, his nose was narrower," the elderly woman jabbed her finger at the picture in front of Em and Em sighed.
"Please don't touch the photo-fit" she sighed, "look, you've smudged it now."
The old woman stared at the little grey patch on the end of her finger.
"Have I just picked a drug dealer's nose?" she panicked.
"Just... try to stay calm Mrs Lorensen," Alex said gently, "you've done really well. Can you describe for us the hair of the gentleman you saw?"
"It was straggly," the woman's face screwed up in disapproval. "like it hadn't been washed, Ever." she shuddered, "I think it was brown but it was hard to tell. Greasy. Yucky."
Em took in a deep breath and muttered,
"I'll be sure to draw it 'yucky'..." She glanced at the woman. "Any idea of length?"
"Long," the woman nodded. Em began to pencil it in. "For a man," the woman added eventually and Em froze.
"By long for a man how long are we talking?"
"Shoulders? Maybe? A little longer?" Em sighed and carried on. "...or shorter..."
Em closed her eyes and shook her head. Where was home? Where was two thousand and thirteen? Where was her art, her laptop, her tattoo designs and lovely vector programmes that didn't describe things as being yucky?
"What about that?" Em turned the paper around and finally the woman nodded.
"That's it. That's him."
Alex stared at the page and felt her guts churning.
"That is a familiar gentleman," she said. Layton's eyes stared back, unnerving her. She tried to stay composed. "Thank you. Thank you, Mrs Lorensen, you've been -"
"The other man, on the other hand, was fairly stocky."
Alex froze.
"What other man?"
"The man the greasy one talked to after his argument."
"Are we talking about the man he was arguing with?"
"No, dear," The old woman frowned, "this was another man."
Alex gave a nervous laugh to hide her annoyance.
"There was no mention of another man in your statement," she pointed out.
"Well I didn't want to overcomplicate matters," the woman told her and Alex tried hard to keep her temper.
"Alright," she sighed, "I'm calm... I'm calm..." she took several breaths then turned back to their witness with a large false smile. "So let's talk about the other man. Were did he come into it?"
"After the straggly man had finished arguing he saw the chubby fellow," the woman began, "didn't look very happy. He talked to him. Something changed hands."
"When you say 'something...'"
"My eyesight's not what it was, young lady, I'm sorry."
"Do you think it was money, or drugs or -"
"Could have been a newspaper cutting about Emmerdale, I wouldn't know. Dear."
"Oh look," Genre stomped in to the room and zeroed in on the sheet of paper, "if it isn't an old friend of ours."
"And the other man -"
Gene froze.
"Other man?" he repeated.
"There's another man," Alex pulled a face.
"What other man?"
"Another man was there," the woman told him.
"Where?"
"Watching the straggly man having his argument."
Gene scowled.
"And you thought it was a good idea to save this fact until now because...?"
"I thought you had enough to be going by, dear."
Gene shook his head, struggling to keep his composure.
"So," he began, "this extra man. Do we need a pretty picture of him an' all?"
"Can you please describe him for us, Mrs Lorensen?" Alex asked gently and the old woman looked a little hesitant.
"Well," she began, "I'm not sure... He was chunkier... not fat, just stocky. Dark curly hair... builder's bum... couldn't stop wiping his nose on the back of his hand.
Gene and Alex froze, then they turned to one another, eyes wide as the penny dropped. Their mouths fell open and almost as one they said his name aloud.
"Sniff!"
~xXx~
Robin sighed as the clock ticked around. Bloody paperwork. Why was there always a ruddy great stack of it? Did it multiply overnight? It didn't seem to matter how much of it he sorted through there was twice as much the next time he looked.
He heard someone clearing their throat in the doorway and looked up to find Gene there. Robin didn't like the look on his face.
"What?" he asked suspiciously as Gene stepped in through the doorway. He seemed to be looking at Robin a little too attentively and Robin started to feel a little concerned. "Oh god, what have I done this time?"
"Its unnerving how you all seem to think you're constantly in trouble" Gene barked, "makes me wonder what you've all got a guilty conscience about.
"Then don't look at me that way," Robin said worriedly. He scowled as Gene approached. "What?"
"I need to check yer vital statistics," Gene told him, "Flex 'em."
"What?" Robin scrambled to his feet and took a very large step backward.
"I need a respectable bicep at least," Gene told him and Robin started to visibly perspire.
"Is this still about the kiss?" he panicked, "I was out of my head, I didn't know what I was doing, I really didn't mean to give you nightmares!"
Gene rolled his eyes angrily and cried,
"I need muscle!"
Robin leapt on his desk,treating Gene like a very large mouse from which he wished to escape.
"You're not getting mine," he cried, "Oh god, it's like your welcome back party all over again... have you been mixing pills and alcohol again?" he saw Gene taking a stride towards him and screamed, "Kim! Kim!"
"Look," Gene cried, yanking Robin down from the desk and leaving him yelping along the way, "all I want is a bit of muscle to scare a snout into spitting out what he was doing exchanging words and extras with a certain Mister Layton!"
That changed everything. Suddenly the idea of Gene investigating his latent homosexuality was the least of Robin's worries.
"Layton? He felt himself shiver from head to toe at the name as Gene nodded.
"Stand there, roll yer sleeve up, flex a bicep or a tricep or a triceratops or whatever it's called," Gene told him, "Sniff's gone to ground lately. Might need a bit of help parting with a few facts."
"Sniff?" Robin began to back away again, "Oh no not him, please, I still have nightmares about his sleeves!"
"Sounds like he's progressed to the back of his hands anyway," Gene told him. Robin didn't seem any more forthcoming with assistance. "Come and be me muscle or I'll take Metal Mickey instead."
"I thought you needed him alive," Robin frowned and with a sigh finally conceded. "Oh fine," he growled, "I'll do it." he picked up his jacket from the back of the chair, "but I'm warning you, one speck of snot lands on my uniform and you're paying for a new one!"
He shook his head as he reluctantly followed Gene out of the office. He'd never been the muscle before. He had a feeling this wasn't going to end well.
~xXx~
A/N: This is the first of three chapters today. The rating will change to M when I post the last of the three tonight.