Hi and welcome to Chapter 13 of 'Keeping it in the Family?' Just wanted to say a huge thanks to my kind reviewers from last time, sparks733, losttimelady and JudasFm.
This chapter is in loving memory of John Lennon, who died 27 years ago today. R.I.P. to a very talented song writer and performer. Thank you for being a part of the musical revolution.
'Imagine all the people, living life in peace.'
DCI Hunt, sternly taking his place at the steering wheel inside the Cortina, was beginning to get a little ticked off with two of his officers. For some reason, DI Tyler and WDC Carlisle were taking their time getting back into the vehicle. He couldn't make out what they were saying to one another but it looked to be pretty serious; Sam's face was level, cracking into what seemed like bewilderment as Casey trailed behind him. She didn't appear confused, more like upset, like she'd just seen a terrible ghost from her past that would not back off, that would not stay away.
They sauntered back over to the motor, delaying getting into the car for some reason for another; the Gov couldn't see to even try and lip read. "What took you two tarts so long?"
Sam's eyes narrowed, glaring to the Chief. "Nothing."
"Looked like a big fat load of nothing to me!"
Tyler stiffened, trying to spy Casey's face in the mirror that hung by a thread over his head. "We were just talking about Bolton, if that's alright by you."
"Oh yeah, what about the little scumbag?"
"Nothing to do with you!" Casey interjected, rather unexpectedly.
Gene and Sam spun around, although it took both of them a minute to realise just what she'd said. It was obvious to at least one of the superior officers that she was doing her up most to piss her Father off.
"Um, sorry, what did you just say, WDC Carlisle?"
With all of his impatient strength, Hunt was trying to keep his calm, trying to be patient with his daughter. He gave her the opportunity to correct herself before he exploded.
"You heard."
Sam couldn't believe just how stubborn and unreasonable Casey was being; she really was like her father, even when she didn't put her mind to it. With his hands covering his ears, his eyes shut, Sam was trying to muffle out the next few painful minutes of yelling. It was going to be anything but pleasant.
"Oh yeah, you think it's nothing to do wit' me, huh?"
"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying!"
"I don't know what your game is, Carlisle, but I don't like it one bit," Gene's voice began to simmer down a little, his red hot blood was still coursing through his veins, a car crash waiting to happen.
"Really?"
"For one thing, if you're going to answer back to me, I'd at least appreciate a 'Sir' or a simple 'yes, DCI Hunt' if you don't feel like knighting me just yet," he paused for breath, straightening his driving gloves against his knuckles. "And another thing, I don't care what your relationship was with that little thug; 'ere we're completely professional. The minute you step in that door at nine in the morning, you obey my orders and treat my team and everyone else with respect. I don't care if 'e 'ad 'is todger up you, whether we're in the office or out and about, you act professionally, isn't that right, Dorothy?"
Upon hearing one of his many affectionate nicknames, Sam glanced up, fearful of what he mind find. "Don't drag me into all of this ridiculousness!"
"Some use you are!" the Governor snorted, revving up the Cortina.
Sam glanced through his notes, hoping to bring sanity to the proceedings. "Ok, turn left and then...this isn't the way to Almonds Street..."
"Congratulations, Sherlock. Move to the top of the class and collect the pencils on the way round."
"Where are you bloody well taking us?"
"I'm not taking you anywhere, DI Tyler. I'm taking Carlisle 'ere 'ome."
"What?!" Sam and Casey cried in unison, the young girl feeling a bubble of nausea burst inside of her.
"Are you two tryin' to play deaf as well as dumb?" Gene griped, trying to make the car go an extra fifty miles per hour.
"Gov, slow the bloody hell down!" Tyler demanded, unprepared to give him the satisfaction of begging.
"No, Ethel I won't! We've got a lot to do today and can't afford to waste valuable time on a shitty school's petty burglary or this gobshite!"
Casey felt her heart drop and drag along the roads surface, tearing with every jerk the vehicle made.
"Gene!" Sam whined in a vague attempt at sounding strong and in control. He knew the young woman wouldn't stand up for herself so he had to make the best effort possible to do it for her.
"What?" Hunt bellowed, the car coming to an almightily abrupt halt. In a fashion, he was parked on the curb, his eyes narrow in anger as he glared at his Inspector.
Sam almost forgot about the argument for shock of sitting still and a regulating heart beat. His eyes squinted, appalled at the grim buildings and scenery enclosing him in the car. Carlton Road also had the prestigious title of being one of Manchester's roughest areas, a VIP zone for prostitutes and rent boys alike.
"W-why are we here?" he stammered, remembering some of the fatal cases he remembered from 2006 (or at least, cases he thought he remembered).
The Governor turned around as movement became known from the backseats.
"Get out," Gene ordered, his voice low yet still authoritative. "And come back when you think you can be a copper, not a ruddy, flirting teenager playing grown up."
Sam closed his eyes, wanting to be somewhere – anywhere – other than where he was right now.
Feeling tears sting her eyes like a thousand bees waiting to be drowned in an ever flowing fountain of sadness, she shot from the car, broken.
"I HATE YOU!" she cried, scarpering over to the house that Sam believed belonged to her. The door slammed shut loudly enough to be heard over Gene's grunting and obsessive revving of the Cortina.
As the Gov pulled fiercely away from the rough area, he didn't quite anticipate the bout of silence that he and his remaining officer were about to suffer. Sam – for perhaps once in his life – was speechless, annoyed at himself for not guessing exactly where the timid, youthful woman lived.
The way she acted contradicted that almost entirely. Sure, he saw that she was a little flirty but in more of an innocent, charming kind of way as opposed to the cheap, overbearing methods of a hooker. Casey seemed educated, even though her voice was too hesitant to be noticed, seemingly waiting before maturing into a sophisticated, intelligent woman.
The car halted again, Sam awakening himself from his comatosing thoughts. He was burning with infuriation and, if he'd been like Gene or Carling, he knew his actions over the next few minutes would have been involving fists.
"Come on, Dorothy," Gene spoke, bounding out of the motor, "Since we've got to do this rubbish, lets get it over and done with so we can get down to the pub for a quick pint or two."
"No," he stalled, his arms folded across his chest like an impatient, impertinent child.
"Sorry, what was that I heard, Inspector?" Gene lent back into the car, his face a picture of solemn skies and stormy seas.
"I said no."
Sam's voice was a little less harsh but still profusely aggravated.
Now it was the Gov's turn to play annoyance personified. "Get out the car Detective Inspector Tyler,"
"Or what?" Sam mockingly laughed, only just being bothered to face his superior officer.
"Or I'll make you get the hell out of that motor and make sure that you can't sit in the bugger for many weeks to come because your arse will be so black and blue after I've kicked it all over Manchester!"
Hunt moved with swiftness that Sam never imagined. The scruff of his neck was grasped not so gingerly between the leather bounded fingers of Gene who had absolutely no intention of letting go anytime soon.
As his face began to change colour, the air being squeezed out of him rapidly, he croaked, trying to get a dry remark out of himself. "If...you do that...I'll make sure...everyone knows...your secret!"
Gene's grip loosened but didn't let go completely. He let his and Sam's eyes dwell on each others proposals for a moment, each man contemplating who would come off the worst because of it.
They both knew the answer.
With his arms dropping, his soul beginning to unravel, Gene wondered on in front as Sam sat still, trying to regain his breath and composure. He knew that his last comment was low, too low to be tactical or even constructive.
He followed his Governor into the second house, fearing that the Gov may choose some other poor sod to lash out at.
-----
Returning back to CID after a not so informative trip to the house of Jerry Boyd, Sam went straight to his desk, re-reading the notes he'd make just minutes ago.
So far, nothing in this case was adding up, not one little bit. The bracelet links were puzzling him, the boy's stories were rather perplexing and the Gov was annoying him with his twisted brand of 'logic'.
Boyd' s story had been anything but simple; the times that he'd 'sworn by' would have been out by about fifteen minutes by the school keepers accounts, the only real, partial witness to the whole thing.
Everything Jerry said was completely garbled. Sam and Gene had decided that he was under the influence of alcohol. His eyes were boozy, glazed over by the veins tracking every point of the iris. The Inspector wanted to have him in for a drugs test. The Chief Inspector wanted to use his head for a round of footy.
As the door banged open from his office, the Gov thumped Sam's desk, the smaller of the two's head motioning upwards. "Can I help you?"
Gene got straight to the point, sensing that Sam was still a little peeved with him. "Forensics should be back tomorrow afternoon, I sped them up."
"Impressive," Sam deadpanned, wishing he had his I-Pod in the 1970's right now to drown out Gene's misguided attempt at an apology.
"So, I want Bolton and Boyd's sorry arses in 'ere before then so we can get them finger printed."
"Shouldn't we still have the copies from a couple of years ago?"
"We should do but, uh, they went missing or something," he sniffed, dismissing any notion of incompetence on the behalf of his officers.
"Helpful."
"Look, Gladys," Hunt ordered, his head dipping lower, like his voice. "What was I meant to do? She was distracting the case."
"Oh but its ok when WDC Cartwright distracts you load of randy buggers in here, isn't it?"
Gene snorted, standing up straighter. "Like you don't look either, Tyler?"
"Is that really the best response you could come up with? No 'just coz you're a poff, doesn't mean the rest of us wouldn't like to imagine copping a feel?' And yes, the pun was certainly intended!"
Sam stood, scooping his leather jacket into his palms. By this time, everyone had either finished their shifts and were heading off for a relaxing evening at home or a not-so-quiet drink in the pub.
Thankfully - for the Gov - no one would be able to hear the next five minutes of arguing.
He headed towards the door but a gruff voice dragged him right back to the centre of the room. "I don't know why you have such a problem with me trying to do the right thing?"
Sam stifled a sarcastic snigger. "You? Doing the right thing? Come off it Gene! The only time you ever, ever consider doing the right thing is when it benefits you and only you!"
Gene inhaled, not quite knowing how to react to that harsh, bitter dose of reality. "That might be true Sammy-Boy, I know I've always been a selfish bastard, but why do you care so much about a girl that has only been in your life for a few days?"
It was Sam's turn to inhale, his shoulders rolling back. "I dunno...I just think it would be a shame for someone who is obviously so intelligent yet a little disadvantaged to have their life taken away from them for no good reason or through no fault of their own."
"What do you mean disadvantaged?"
Sam chuckled auspiciously at Gene's hasty denial. "Well, you can hardly say she's had a good life up till now, can you? I mean, her Mum's a prostitute, her Dad barely knows or cares about her..."
"Her Mam was a prostitute. She's not on the game anymore."
Gene's certainty worried Sam a little. "How do you know? Not booked an appointment recently?"
His Governors face screwed up. "You know, Tyler that was below the belt even for a handbag swinging girl like you."
"You know, why am I stood here wasting my time with you?" Sam realised, his arms flying into the air and slamming against his sides. "I have better stuff to do with my time."
"Like what? Rearrange your knickers draw?"
By this time, Sam wasn't listening anymore, not even facing the Gov. Yes, he was going home, but not before what he would consider an important visit.
To be continued...
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