"Oh what now?" growled Gene as he and Dan picked themselves up off the office floor. Gene opened the door in his usual overly violent fashion, and stepping out into the office, he analyzed the scene which lay before him, narrowing his eyes as they fell on the small crowd which had formed with a still shaking Lyn at it's centre.
"It's…Oh my God. It's him. It's his, it's definitely his…" She stammered, staring down at the small black wallet she had flung onto the desk in shock. It glistened unpleasantly with a spattering of a glutinous scarlet substance. Gene parted the circle of stunned detectives with one sweep of his leather-clad hand and stood directly beside the trembling Lyn. He crouched down beside her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"What is it, love?"
"It came in the post. It's his Guv…it's Scott's…it's his warrant card… He's not here, I thought he were off ill! And inside it Guv!" She dissolved into sobs as Gene patted her, awkwardly.
"Oi, you!" Gene barked to Allan, who looked up, worriedly at this abrupt address. "Get this lady a cup of tea. Good for shock. Four sugars." The younger detective nodded, moving swiftly over to the crying woman and, guiding her gently by the elbow, led her out of the room.
Gene opened the wallet with just the tips of his thumb and fore-finger in an attempt to touch as little of it as possible. Inside was a clump of fair hair matted and covered in blood, almost obscuring the name on the warrant card. 'Scott Woodall. Metropolitan Police.'
"It's his hair, isn't it?" Until now, Gene had not noticed Dan leaning over his shoulder.
"Looks like it." Gene muttered, carefully closing the back cover, to see a message carved roughly into the leather: 'The poof will die.'
Gene straightened up and addressed the team as a whole. "Right. Get this down the forensics, pronto." a DS complied, using his jacket to pick up the bloody warrant card before following Lyn and Allan out of the double doors. Gene continued.
"Right. There's a chance one of our own is in trouble. I want all hands on deck. I want friends, I want family, I want his bra size. I want everything you know about 'im." He stared around at the sea of blank faces before him. "Oh come on! Where did he drink? Where'd he live? Give me something!" spat Hunt.
"Eh…" Piped up a young woman. "He didn't really speak to us that much Guv. Not about himself anyway."
"Wonder why?" Muttered Dan, mutinously, causing Gene to turn to face him abruptly, his look dangerous.
"What's that supposed to mean?" He said, his voice the low rumble of a brewing storm.
"I don't think I'd open up either if I was scared half to death of my shithead of a DCI taking the piss every five minutes because of what I do in the bedroom."
"He's a big boy. He can cope." Said Gene through gritted teeth
"It's bullying and you know it!"
"And this isn't the school playground! We're the bloody Met!"
"Yeah, and he has the right to work without being picked on by an insecure, sexually frustrated cunt like you!" Dan's fists clenched in fury as his voice rose to a shout.
The tension in the room was palpable, CID looked on apprehensively at the two men stood facing one another, Gene's blood boiling almost visibly as Dan continued.
"You know what Hunt? I bet when you were younger you had your doubts, didn't you? That's why you're so shit to him. Makes you feel like a big man does it? You only do it because you were confused yourself, I bet. I bet it scares you shitless just thinking about it." Dan had apparently struck a nerve, as Gene lashed out wildly, a fist heading full pelt towards Dan's face.
Dan grabbed Gene's wrist and held it fast as he looked into the livid eyes of the man now breathing heavily before him.
"Not nice, is it Gene?" Said Dan, his voice softer now. "Being picked on. Imagine that every day." A moment passed in which the two men stared one another out, each daring the other to make the slightest move. Gene broke the ferocious eye contact, and wrenched himself out of Dan's grip, stomping across to his office, slamming the door with such force that the entire room trembled.
Gene sat with his arms folded on the swivel chair, turned moodily from the rest of CID, and turning the chair this way and that, lost in thought. He knew that Dan had just been trying to anger him in order to prove a point, but he had also succeeded in bringing uneasy memories to the forefront of Gene's mind.
At the age of thirteen, Gene's friends made lecherous comments about girls in their class or female teachers, he had joined in, yes, but had never truly understood what they meant. To him, girls were just girls. He hadn't found breasts in the least bit appealing at that point, never mind anything else. It had worried him, and his young mind had rationalised that, surely, if he was not attracted to women, he must be attracted to men. These disturbing thoughts had plagued him for months, although, just as he had with women, he also felt no pull towards members of his own gender.
It had come as a massive relief, therefore, when Gene had spotted Sophie Raymes, a new student at his secondary school. Her 'charms' had been enough to convince him of his heterosexuality, and the whole incident had been pushed to the very corner of his mind, out of the way.
Dan's remarks, however, had brought all those memories back to the surface, and although Gene was furious that an inferior officer had even dreamed of talking to him in such a way, many of Dan's comments rang true. Maybe Gene had took out his own issues on Woodall and, of course, gay people in general.
This uncomfortable revelation was interrupted however, (although Gene was far from resentful) when a tentative knock came from the office door.
"What?" The door opened, although Gene did not turn around, so Dan instead addressed Gene's back.
"Eh…I think I might have been a bit out of order there." Gene grunted in response. "I've…eh….I've found out where Scott lives, if you're interested. He lives with a bloke called Harry." Gene stood, wordlessly, catching Dan's eye briefly, giving him a curt nod as they left the office.
56 Avon Road was a modest semi-detached affair, and as Dan put out a hand to knock on the door, Gene played with his tie nervously.
"I hate this bit."
The door was opened by a tall, kind faced effeminate looking man, who looked Gene and Dan up and down, gauging their appearance. Gene registered the look of fear which was typical of so many friends and relatives of the victims during his investigations. Many would have guessed with the first second or two who Gene was, and would have sensed that his news would not be good.
"Are you Harry Tomlinson?" Said Dan, the man nodded. "I'm DS, sorry, DI Daniel Hartley, and this is DCI Gene Hunt." Gene nodded at Harry.
"This is about Scott, isn't it?"
"I'm afraid so, yes." Muttered Gene. "Do you mind if we come in?" Harry nodded, numbly, leading them through to a bright sitting room and ushering them into a pair of quaint armchairs before sitting down himself, and speaking.
"He didn't come home last night, I thought he'd got drunk and stayed at a friend's or something. I was going to wait and see if he came home tonight." Harry's voice broke, he took several deep breaths, composing himself before continuing, "I didn't want to report it or anything, I didn't want to make a fuss. Is he Ok? Is he hurt."
"We're not sure." Said Dan, gently. "But we do have evidence to suggest that DC Woodall might be in a bit of trouble. There may be no need to panic, but we were wondering what you know about his movements last night or maybe this morning."
"He was at a bar, The Spandex Ballet, I was supposed to meet him there after work, but I had a stomach bug, so I had to stay here."
"When did you last speak to him?" Asked Gene.
"About half five yesterday. He rung me from the office to arrange where we were meeting. After I started being sick I rung the bar to ask them to tell him I couldn't make it."
"And did they?"
"Yeah, I think so. We know the owner see, Archie, and I asked him to tell Scott I was poorly and he said he would, so I assumed he got the message."
Gene and Dan made note of many of the finer details before leaving, assuring Harry that he would be kept posted on the investigation as it continued. As they were leaving, Harry stopped Gene and looked at him, imploringly.
"There's still a chance he could just turn up at the door, right."
Gene stood on the doormat, unable to respond, he thought of the chilling words cut into the leather before looking back up at Harry.
"As Hartley says: we do have reason to believe that DC Woodall might be in danger. I'm sorry sir."
After another painful few minutes, Dan and Gene were back in the car.
"Looks like it's time for a bit of undercover work, Danny Boy."
"Maybe it'd be better if you didn't do it…"
"One of my officers might be in danger Hartley, so do you think I'd stay in the bloody office pushing pencils, when I could be out there getting something done?" Said Gene, putting the keys into the ignition.
"The Spandex Ballet?" Said Dan, uncertainly, as the engine roared into life, "You know what that is, right?"
"Yeah. It's a bar." Said Gene with the air of talking to a stupid person.
"Do you know what kind of bar, Guv?"
"I don't care what kind of bloody bar! A bar's a bar."
"So you're definitely going, no matter what?" Asked Dan, a small smile playing around his lips.
"Course." Came the gruff reply as Gene changed gear far too aggressively.
"Can I have your word on that?"
"It's a bloody bar! Yes you can have my bloody word! What's your frigging problem?"
"The Spandex Ballet, Guv, The Spandex Ballet…" grinned Dan, trying to stifle giggles, "Gene, it's a gay bar!"
The car screeched to a halt as Gene slammed on the brake in shock, it skidded erratically, leaving an impressive skid mark on the tarmac.
"Oh shit." muttered Gene, almost inaudibly as Dan broke into peals of uncontrollable laughter.