Arriving at a new crime scene with DC Skelton, DC Cartwright and DS Carling in toe, DI Tyler strode on ahead to try and discover exactly what had gone on with this murder. The sun beating down on him like his DCI's fists, Sam was in no mood for this right now. It had been bad enough that the whole time during the car journey, Ray kept whining about Gene not being there. Questions like 'When's the Gov gettin' back?' or 'What's up with 'im?' or 'How are we gonna cope without the Gov?' nearly drove Sam to murder!
Yet, he kept a strenuously cool facade about him. He had to at least stay professional, if nothing else.
Kneeling down beside the fresh corpse, Sam decided to wait until his colleagues trundled over before doing any detective work. He was certain that they could all do with a little training in the matter of how to handle a dead woman's body (some more than most).
Hearing his knees crack, the Detective Inspector squinted over to them, the sun doing it's best to completely annihilate his vision. Just by their walks he made them out, or more like, just from their shadows walk he could make them out.
First, there was Ray, ambling along, a cigarette dangling between his finger tips as he blankly glanced around the place, trying to keep a small amount of wit about him; he didn't even need to open his mouth for everyone to know that he really couldn't be arsed. It was his whole slovenly attitude that prevented him from ever reaching to the Detective Inspector's position. Even the sometimes sloppy Gene Hunt would admit this, right in front of the man if he had to, just to prove a point.
Then there came Chris, the same dopey expression surgically fixed to his face with the same, slightly worn, cheesy grin, imitating Carling's nicotine habit to perfection. Sam tutted at this; it was about time Chris realised that he was going to turn out to be a much, much better copper than Carling could ever dream of being. It was about time that he started conducting himself in the way he thought he should for the sake of the job, rather than how he currently did for the sake of 'keeping in with the lads'.
Then, Annie followed. Sweet Annie. She was by far the most assertive out of the three, desperate to prove herself to verify the idea that women did belong in the Police force and that times were more than certainly changing. Sam breathed as she made her way next to him, a thoughtful appearance in her crystal clear, blue eyes.
"Look's like it was the same person - or people - as before, then?" she sighed traumatically, dumping her brown leatherette bag next to her crouching frame; even if she didn't want to admit it to the males of the team, the series of female deaths in the city was starting to rattle her, making her wish that she didn't have the job that she did, just in case...
Sam knew she was scared. He didn't want to announce it in front of everyone else though; it would be stupid to embarrass her like that. Especially in front of chauvinits like Carling. "Yeah, it seems so." Sam deliberated, scratching his head with the end of his biro.
Taking a heavy drag on his fag, Ray decided that his marginal input was needed. "Whoever's killin' all these skirts needs to be brought to justice."
"Do you not think I realise that?" Tyler retaliated, blinking up at the Detective Sergeant from the ground; he knew that that had been Ray's personal dig at him. You could just tell from his shifty, sleazy expression, his gesture pointing towards Sam even though it didn't appear apparent to everyone else. Perhaps.
Ray never replied, merely tutted in his same nonchalant fashion, his eyes rolling in the same sarcastic, over the top way, his head moving from side to side like a pendulum with arthritis.
Chris, sensing that there could well be a punch up decided quite wisely to try and redirect the conversation back on the matter in hand; without the bold presence of the Gov, it could all get nasty rather quickly. Although Sam was usually a fairly sedate person, Chris realised that DS Carling was the person that could always push him over the edge. He threw down his cigarette steadily before he began to talk, in a surprisingly calm and rational way.
"Do you think we need to get a post mortem done?"
"To be honest, I don't think we do." Sam growled, standing from the dust and blood spillage. "It seems pretty clear that she's been brutally murdered like all them other women."
Annie, still squatting on the floor, wrinkled her nose, moving nervously over to the body. She crawled closer, biting her bottom lip. "Detective Inspector, can you smell something...sweet?"
Sam returned to her side, taking a sniff of the young girls blonde hair and skimpy clothing, her flimsy, off yellow skirt screwed up and torn. "Yeah. It smells like...like treacle pudding."
Sam's head shot up. He remembered the Gov's musings of looking at the leads from yesterday, the smell he fell in love with yet again when he went into his Uncle's home...
"Shit!" Sam's subtle outrage was audible enough for Annie and Chris to stare at him.
"What's the matter, Sam?" Miss. Cartwright moved closer to him, rubbing a loving hand against his bicep. His gaze was blank as he stood gingerly, his body trembling lightly in rage and shock.
"This can't be happening...no way."
Chris peered across at Ray who rolled his eyes yet again. He had just about enough of Sam Tyler's stupid outbursts from over the past few months and was already pissed off that the Gov wasn't there to save him from this madness, to be on his 'side' at such a time.
"For God's sake, stop over reacting and tell us what's goin' on!"
It was as if DI Tyler was in a trance; he didn't even react to Carling's harsh quizzing. He scampered over to the car, soon out of breath; it wasn't the best of ideas to skip breakfast and miss out on a couple of pain killers with a pair of busted ribs.
His girlfriend wasn't too far behind. "Sam, wait, tell us what the heck's goin' on!"
"No time for that, just in get in the car!" he puffed, Chris following hastily with Ray stumbling over in his own time. As usual.
"Sam, please, what's going on?" Annie's pestering irritated Sam slightly, her urgent voice he felt was slightly unjustified. Yet, he knew he did owe them some kind of an explanation.
"You know I told you about the leads the Gov was on about yesterday?" a sharp turn and reverse made all members of the car pause for breath, Tyler's driving uncharacteristically rapid. "Well, when I went in the house it smelt exactly how that woman did."
Annie's eyes widened. "No way? Mr. Smith? Aislin's Daddy?"
Sam's seemingly non-existent nod and consequent silence provoked Annie to lay a comforting hand on the Inspector's knee; she was sat with him up front, as his support. He placed his palm only for a split second on top of hers, smiling lightly to her. His attention were solidly on the road ahead, nothing else.
"Do you think it is that Mike bloke then, Gov?"
Chris' slip of the tongue made Ray's face squirm in anger. "Don't you ever, ever call 'im Gov, ever again!"
"Sorry Ray, it was only an accident."
"He's no where near as good a copper as Gene 'Unt!" Ray gesticulated with his cigarette end.
Chris, slightly taken aback by Ray's outburst tried his best to rationalize with his pal. "I wouldn't say that, Ray, they're both so...so different!"
Sam went back to answer the youngest man's inquiry; he could see in his wing mirror Ray's deadly, red hot glare at the Constable. "I don't think he did it but the Gov was right when he said that he wasn't telling us everything."
Skelton - knowing that he couldn't provoke an argument any more if he tried - frowned. "Yeah but, Boss, lots of people eat and make treacle pudding, not just 'im."
In his DCI like haste, Sam gasped, annoyed at his own thoughts. He ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, you're right, Chris. It's just a little odd that Gene would say that, that's all."
"It's Gov to you." Carling bitched, snorting at the DI's response.
"Yeah, and it's DI Tyler to you."
"C'mon Ray, let's not get all hecked up about this. The Gov did say on the phone that Inspector Tyler was going to be in charge until he got back."
Annie's reasoning just managed to piss Ray off even more, despite her amiable voice. He opened the window, leering out for the rest of the journey, refusing to speak to anyone. Especially not Chris who'd just committed the offence of the life time, at least in his books.
They pulled up outside of the house, Sam had a sinking feeling in his gut; there was something about the house that just wasn't there yesterday; an icy cold shell, so frozen in time there was no means of cracking it.
Tyler became saddened by all of this. Yet, his Gov and mind were for once in faultless sync with each other. He needed to do this.
And soon before more women's lives were lost.
"How are we gonna do this, Boss?" Chris' newly found inquisitive nature was something that made Sam extremely proud of his younger accomplice; it did go to show that his time in 1973 Manchester hadn't been at a complete loss.
"I'm not too sure, to be honest." a rough thumb traced the outline of his jaw as DI Tyler continued to hold his gaze to the outside, his vision locked on the distantly familiar building enclosing his thoughts.
Ray snorted ostentatiously in the back. "Well, you'd better come up with a plan soon."
"If you just kept quiet for a minute then maybe I'd be able to."
The car went completely silent; the only sound to be heard was that of Chris fidgeting in the backseat, looking for the penny sweets that had fallen out earlier in his trouser pockets and Carling deciding to be increasingly irritating by tapping his fingers against the back window frame.
Sam - now ready to resolve this - got out of the car, an air of annoyance and determination complete with his swift movements.
"Sam, where are you going?" Annie was the only one that was 'brave enough' to speak up, to try and pry the Detective Inspector away from his sticky, quick sand like thoughts.
He glanced back at her. "You all wait here - I'll be back in a couple of minutes."
He stepped over an array of different sized plant pots in an attempt not to knock them over, as he made his way over to the house. Many of them he was sure were not there the day before. They all had the same swirled rose pattern, in reds and blues, on a clay brown background.
Tapping unsurely on the door, in all bluntness, Sam Tyler had no idea what he was about to do next. He had no idea what to say, how to react, nothing. Yet, in the loneliest corner of his brain, he could just hear Gene Hunt yelling at him.
"Go with your gut - not your bonce!"
Sam shook away those thoughts; there was no denying that DCI Hunt had had a profound impact on the way he viewed policing. Possibly for the better?
The door creaked open, only slightly. "Yeah? Oh, DI Tyler. I-Is everything all right?"
Mike Smith's voice was distinctively different from yesterday. Where as he sounded timid and unbalanced, today he sounded far more fatigued and a lot more suspicious, at least in Sam's mind. The copper wasn't too sure whether this was from his own admission or whether it was just the Gov's sense of twisted logic finally winning the grapple with his own head.
"Hi, Mr. Smith, can I come in and have a word for a minute?"
Mike's eyes darted, startled. "Uh, I'm actually about to jump in the bath for a quick wash and am a little bit, ummm, naked. Can we speak, ya know, later or just right here?"
Sam, using his better judgement (and the fact that, in a perverse twist of fate, he trusted this 'uncle') decided to go along with it. "Ok, well, I just wanted to know if you'd heard anything from your wife, Jillian, yet?"
"No."
The bluntness of Mike Smith's answer made Sam slightly uncomfortable; how was he honestly meant to reply to that?
"Have you heard anything?"
Sam looked to his shoes. "Nope. There has been another female death, though."
"Oh." Mike couldn't maintain eye contact with the other man.
"Aislin's not in hospital anymore. You do know that, right?"
Mr. Smith's restlessness agreed so. "Yeah, well, uh, I'd better be going."
With that, the door had been slammed swiftly in the DI's face. He blinked, as if a bright, dazzling light had been flickered to his pupils for just a few seconds. He groaned privately, taking a hesitant and unsteady stroll back to the car.
Tyler got in, keeping his head down, slouching in his chair; even to his stubborn mind set, he knew that he'd just screwed up there. Unfortunately - for him - he wasn't the only one to notice either.
"Great goin' Sherlock." Ray blurted out without any vacillation. He grunted; you could just hear the venom scraping against the back of his throat.
"Ok, ok, I didn't handle that particularly well."
Sam's acknowledgement of his mistakes shocked no one except for Carling; Annie was becoming more and more aware of Sam's humble tendencies and slight insecurities of his own abilities even though - for the most part - they were completely unnecessary. Chris knew Sam a lot better than most people in 1973 and, even though at times he felt his challenges of Gene Hunt's authority did deserve some amount of questioning, he knew that - as a copper - Sam was possibly the finest he'd ever come across; someone that wouldn't make mistakes for the sake of it or just to fit someone up.
"Tosser."
Ray's muttered, bitchy outburst broke Sam from his cocoon of day dreaming. "I suggest, Detective Sergeant Carling, that if you don't wish suspension or to be de-promoted, you keep your gob shut, ok?"
"'Ang on a sec, that's the Gov's decision, not yours..."
"Yes but, like we were meant to have established earlier, I am your boss at the moment so you'd better do as I say. Got it?"
For the rest of the journey back to the A Division Departments, Ray Carling never uttered another word. As fun as it was to push Sam to the very limits, he knew he'd be doing himself no favours at that time by doing so.
This, to everyone in the car, seemed to be a rare attack of Ray doing the most sensible thing possible.
Pacing and leaping up the steps, Carling was far detached from the conversation that Sam, Chris and Annie had on the way back to the offices. They all spied him up and down, tisking in their own unique way at his actions.
However, Chris - in his new enquiring state of mind - wanted answers from his Boss. "So, do you not have any idea when the Gov's gonna get back?"
Sam sighed, shrugging swiftly. "Your guess is as good as mine."
His honesty struck a chord with DC Skelton; Sam Tyler, even though weird, would always try and be as up front as possible with them when a crisis loomed.
This could easily be one of those situations.
Sam, for the rest of the day, decided to hold himself hostage in the Gov's office, pouring himself a small swig of Whisky. Unbeknownst to the DCI, Tyler knew exactly where he kept his drink of choice and would be more than likely horrified if that fact was ever revealed. Sam, hunched over the desk, was starting to feel the effect of mixing antibiotics and alcohol; his stomach was bubbling violently like a witch's caldron, hissing at his own blatant stupidity. He moaned, his sweaty palms coursing across the aching abs for some means of comfort; clearly the past few days were taking a toll on him. In fact, this whole muder situation was made a little worse by the Gov not being there.
If the Gene Genie had been there, maybe - just maybe - Ray may have been more willing to get on his job than snipe at his boss constantly. Maybe someone like Gene Hunt was needed on hand to put his balls on the line, to make snap decisions and - most importantly - to keep everyone in order.
Clearly, Sam's best attempts at calming his nerved tummy wasn't working too well when Annie made her way into the Chief Detective's office to find him in such a state. She took one glance at the bottle, only a quarter full of orange liquor and rolled her eyes lightly. She was certain he hadn't drank as much as that but still tisked at him.
"That was bright, wasn't it, mixing Whisky and pink pills, hum?"
With her arms folded across her chest in a disapproving manner, her voice serious and scolding, it reminded Sam a lot of his Mother's attitude when in the playground he would get blooded and bruised in a scuffle, usually with reference to how one Vic Tyler was 'nothing but scum'. Those occasions were very rare but still an occurrence. That hit a nerve with Sam, hard, like the Gov's fist in the stomach.
The Detective Inspector peeped at his watch; it was ten minutes to midnight. All of the late nights and mishaps recently were starting to wreck his body. A hand dawdled across his forehead; he was already beginning to feel woozy.
"Come on, it's late, I'll drive you home." Annie decided without hesitation, tossing the keys into the air, smiling seductively at her boyfriend in a demanding yet caring manner.
How could he refuse after an offer like that?
Next time in 'Blimey, it's a baby!'...
Sam and Annie get a little closer but will things stay that way for the young couple?
Check back for more, soon!
Hey, I'd just like to thank JudasFM, losttimelady and Iaveina for reviewing the last chapter and thank you to anyone who read it. I like hearing what you have to say and, if you have any problems with the story, I don't know what they are unless you tell me. Although I may not like eating humble pie (lets face it, who does?) if there is a way the story could be improved and be more enjoyable for you to read, please let me know. I don't know unless you tell me!
Thank you for reading - please review!