This is another of my favorite chapters. :) Thanks again to Jazzola and Hawkslayer for keeping up the inspiring reviews!
Part Thirteen
A strange feeling, one he couldn't quite put a name to, assailed Sam as he walked into CID beside Gene. It was almost the feeling one experienced when coming home after a long journey, but not quite. Almost like deja vu, but not quite. Almost-
Gene's hand closed around his arm and propelled him along at a faster pace. "You've seen it all before, Tyler. Keep movin'."
Sam mentally shook himself and allowed Gene to lead him deeper into the building. He tossed a quick smile to Phyllis, who stared back at him, her eyes flicking to his cuffed wrists.
"Oh, Lord. You're bringin' 'im back here, Guv?" she asked Gene as they paused by her desk.
"That happy to see me, Phyllis?" Sam retorted. It stung a bit that she seemed so hostile to his return.
Phyllis sighed and narrowed her eyes on him. "I'm lookin' out for your best interests, Boss. Gore and his loonies have been hangin' around all mornin'."
Oh. Sam couldn't help but smile. The realization that she was concerned for him felt... nice.
"Good," said Gene, lifting his chin. "That's just what I was hopin' for."
Phyllis looked askance at her DCI. "You want to see Tyler beaten to a pulp, do ya?"
Sam reflected that there were probably times when Gene wanted to see exactly that. He hoped to God that this wasn't one of those times.
"No. Not at all... 'least, not this time," Gene replied.
Sam grinned, enjoying the feeling of being the Guv being concerned for him. I must be special, today.
"Now don't let that go to your smarty head, Gladys," Gene cautioned.
"I'll try not to, Guv," Sam answered. "Especially since you're so concerned with preventing my smarty head from being kicked in."
Before the DCI and DI could engage in further banter, Phyllis snapped, "Well what are you doing bringin' DI Tyler here, then, Guv?"
"This is the big one, Phyllis," Gene told her. "This is the moment where we catch our villains. And we're usin' Sam here as bait."
"Oh Lord..." Phyllis sighed and shook her head. "You men and your heroic plans. Think you're livin' in a television show, you do."
"Thanks for the confidence, luv. Come on, Tyler." Gene continued walking, dragging Sam along.
The musty scent of cigarette smoke greeted Sam as he was pulled into the bullpen. He blinked through the haze and saw Chris, Ray, Annie and the others all watching, wide-eyed, as the Guv escorted their handcuffed DI inside.
"Are Gore and Babbin anywhere around?" Gene asked quickly.
Ray took his cigarette out of his mouth and shook his head. "No, Guv. They left not ten minutes ago."
"Good. Sit down, Sam." Gene shoved Sam toward the nearest chair.
Sam considered protesting, but he suddenly realized how tired he felt from the walk, and his ribs were starting to ache. Stiffly, he sat down, keeping his elbows tight against his sides to keep the pain from spreading. Everyone was staring at him, and he soon felt uncomfortable. He started to reach up and rub the back of his head, but stopped with his arms half raised. Handcuffs. Fantastic.
"I'm fine. It's... Everything's fine," he assured the other officers.
"Good. Glad to have you back," Annie replied, taking a step toward him and flashing him an encouraging smile.
Sam smiled back at her, reassuringly, he hoped. He was fine. He could do this. He didn't want anyone doubting his capability to be part of this mission.
"A'right, you lot," Gene addressed his gathered team. "This is the moment. I want everyone actin' sharp and usin' their noggins—not just Tyler. We gotta catch these bastards in a mistake—and I'm ninety-nine percent sure that DCI Gore and DS Babbin are among those bastards. They'll be returnin' soon, no doubt, and when they do, we'll be ready for 'em. They've got it out for our DI, whom we know is no killer. I'll let him tell you why they've got it out for him. Sam?"
Sam blinked up at the Guv, surprised. He cleared his throat and met the wondering eyes of the others. "Well. Seems Gore and Babbin are mixed up in something bad, something to do with the murders of Gypsy Tom and Robert Boardman. I was looking into Tom's murder when I was followed home one night. The man who followed me home was DCI Afton Gore. Apparently, I was onto something, and he didn't want me to find out. That's why I think he framed me for Boardman's murder. Of course, this could be a misunderstanding. This is only a theory."
"Which is why we're using Tyler as bait to figure this out," Gene put in. "When they arrive, I want everyone to watch and listen carefully. Everyone but Cartwright, that is."
Annie frowned. "But Guv-"
Gene held up a hand. "I need you to work on the dog problem," he told her. "You need to find that dog."
Sam nodded. "He's right, Annie. We can't just accuse these men, these officers, on conjecture and coincidence. We need a connection."
"Evidence," said Gene.
Sam and Gene exchanged a quick glance. Sam smiled crookedly at the Guv, and Gene's lips twitched, but he managed to hold back a grin.
Starting to think like me a bit, eh, Gene?
"Ah." Annie nodded, eyebrows raising. "I get it now. I'm on it, Guv."
Her words sparked some snickers and elbow-nudging amongst the men, but Gene quieted them down. "Listen up. This is serious business. One of our own has been accused, and we are gonna stand by him. Is that clear?"
There was a chorus of "yes, Guv."
Sam's throat tightened, so he swallowed hard and put on a poker face.
"Now until they get here, I want every last one of you searchin' through the evidence, the paperwork, all of it, lookin' for any connection between these two murder cases and Gore and his men. Got that? Good. Now get to it!"
The officers scattered, and Sam stood, moving toward his desk.
"Hang on, Tyler." Gene's hand clamped down on his shoulder.
Sam felt an upsurge of irritation. "Look, Guv, you brought me here. Don't expect me to sit around and do nothing."
"Touchy today, are we, Dorothy? That time of the month?" Gene retorted with a scowl.
Sam started to fire back, but Gene got there first. "I don't expect you to sit around, Sam," he told his DI, lowering his voice a bit. "But I don't expect you to look like you're workin', either. If Gore and Babbin see that, it's gonna be instant trouble for us. Do you understand me?"
Sam nodded. "Now I do." What Gene said did make sense. But... "I can't do nothing." He was already fidgeting with his handcuffs, unable to keep his hands still.
Gene stood akimbo and shook his head. "Thought you'd be like this, Tyler." He nodded toward his office. "I'll get yeh some paperwork to do, since you love it so much."
"Thanks, Guv." As he followed Gene toward the office, he couldn't help but smile. He had won some small victory, though he wasn't sure exactly what it was. And he wasn't going to be bored being bait, after all.
"I'm sorry for the intrusion, Wanda, but I really must see your dog." Annie held her ground, not flinching at the narrowed eyes of Wanda Tudor.
Wanda stared at her for a few more moments, then finally sighed and looked away. "Fine. I'll let you see the dog."
"Thank-you," Annie replied, sighing herself. As soon as Wanda turned her back to her, the young police officer grimaced. Dealing with Wanda was tiring work! But looking at it that way... She smiled. The Guv must really trust her to get the job done if he wanted her to get information from Wanda Tudor. She followed the taller woman into the townhouse.
"Geo-orge!" Wanda called toward the stairs. "It's that little policewoman again. She wants to see the dog."
Again, Annie added mentally. Last time, she had caught Wanda at home alone. And last time, her request to see the dog had not gone over well. Short of arresting Wanda for obstructing justice, there had been nothing she could have done to see that dog. Now, finally, she was going to see that darn dog.
George came plodding down the stairs, dragging something along behind him.
Annie's eyes widened when the older man stepped into the light at the bottom of the staircase. Behind him stood an average sized mutt—and she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that its fur would match the hair found on Sam's shirt. It was the exact color.
"Well?" Wanda stood akimbo. "You've seen the dog. Now what do you want? Are you going to take him away from us?"
"Oh, no. Not at all." Annie assured the woman, snapping out of her daze. She turned to George and flashed him a smile. "I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to get a hair sample from your dog."
George said, "Not at all," at the same time his wife shrilled, "Hair sample? Whatever for?"
Annie had a feeling that these two were no murderers. Wanda seemed formidable, but she didn't seem the type to bludgeon someone—more bark than bite. And George seemed a gentle fellow. But still... Annie knew she shouldn't divulge too much information about the case, just in case these two were somehow involved. She managed a tight smile. "I'm sorry, but I can't be giving out too much information about the case."
Wanda sighed with an air of resignation, and George shrugged.
Annie knelt by the dog—a scruffy-looking fellow with light brown fur and a friendly demeanor. "Hello there, boy. Hope you don't mind." Petting him with one hand, she reached with the other into her jacket and withdrew a small plastic bag. "There's a good boy!"
The dog grinned up at her, his tongue lolling out of one side of his mouth. He was quite a charming mutt, and for a second, Annie could see why people would fight over him. She ruffled the fur on his shoulders, stirring up some loose hairs, then collected a couple of hairs and deposited them into the bag, quickly closing it and putting it back inside her jacket.
"Well. Thank-you for your time." Annie stood and turned to go.
Just as she reached the door, George said something to Wanda that made Annie's blood chill.
"I am sorry about Boardman and the way we treated him about the dog. But as soon as that dog showed up, he was like a different person, Wanda. A different person."
Sam sat in the Guv's office, mercifully un-cuffed, flipping through papers that dealt with the case—information about Robert Boardman and Gypsy Tom, transcriptions of telephone calls from The Gilded Button, records of Boardman's spat with the neighbors over the dog... He was going over information about the complaint at the restaurant when something in a footnote caught his subconscious and wouldn't let go.
Sam focused all of his concentration on the paper he was reading. Boardman complained... Stanly Summers, waiter, was told to call the police... Gore and Babbin arrived, asked questions... And the footnote says: Summers described Gypsy Tom and his pet...
Sam blinked. "His pet?"
What was it with pets these days? They just kept popping up in these cases. Hadn't Annie been sent to find that dog?
Sam sat back in the chair, eyes widening, chills running up his spine, as the realization struck him. "Oh. The dog. No..." He ran his hands down his face. "No way... It couldn't... Couldn't be..." It couldn't be merely a coincidence is what it couldn't be. He laughed a bit and shook his head. This case couldn't have been more twisted...
The door to Gene's office swung open, and Gene himself strode in.
Sam jumped to his feet—a motion that caused his ribs to clench in pain, but it was pain he quickly ignored. "Guv! Guv, I've just realized something."
"Well hurry up and spit it out, Tyler, 'cause Gore and his baboon of a DS are headed this way," Gene replied, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Guv, it's about the dog," Sam told him quickly. "I read over the paperwork and found this tiny little side note, barely a mention, of Gypsy Tom having a pet." He couldn't help but grin, proud of himself, excited to be so close to finally solving this case. "Guv, Gypsy Tom had a pet. I'm going to call the restaurant and talk to Stanly Summers, and I have a feeling he's going to say it was a dog."
Gene stared at him for a moment, green eyes narrowed. Then, his face lit up with understanding. "A dog. Oh my God."
"I'm willing to be it's the same dog. The dog that was seen in the company of Gypsy Tom a little over two weeks ago." Sam's breath was coming in quick, painful pants, and he pressed a hand to his ribs. "Do you see—do you see what this means?"
Gene nodded, hands on his hips now. He had a look on his face that Sam recognized, a look that said they were close, so close, to victory. It was a look that boded danger for criminals. "This means you'll be in the clear, Sammy. But you're not there yet."
"I know." Sam nodded and tried to calm himself, tried to take deeper, slower breaths. Ouch.
"And that means Gore and Babbin will still be a problem."
From the noise coming from the room outside the office, Sam deduced that the problem had just arrived.
"And that means... I'm sorry, Sam, but that means I'm going to have to do this," Gene continued, stepping forward.
Sam frowned and held up his hands. "Guv, what-?"
Gene grabbed Sam's left arm. "Can't let them think I'm letting you have your run around the office." Click. In a flash, he had drawn the handcuffs from his coat and closed one cuff around Sam's wrist.
"Guv-"
"Shut up, Sam," Gene hissed, dragging his DI toward the file cabinet. "I'm only keepin' you out of trouble." He closed the other cuff around a drawer handle, locking Sam to the cabinet.
Sam didn't like it. He had been fidgety all day, wanting to move around, wanting to help, wanting to do something, and now he was cuffed to his DCI's file cabinet—for no good reason that he could see. "You don't have to lock me to your file cabinet!" he snapped.
"Yes. I do." Gene started toward his office door. "You'll be safe in here. I won't let Gore and Babbin inside."
"But, Guv-"
"Don't you worry. Nothin's gettin' through the Gene Genie," Gene assured him. And with a wink, he left Sam alone in the office.
Sam sighed and slumped against the cabinet with a curse.
Not five minutes later, angry, raised voices echoed into the office. Sam straightened up and leaned toward the door, as far as the handcuffs would let him.
The door burst open, and in strode Gore, shadowed by Babbin, with Gene close on his heels. "Oi! I told you me office is off-limits to yeh!" the Guv was shouting.
Gore grinned when he saw Sam. "Hello, Sam. Enjoying your arrest?"
Sam ignored the other DCI and turned to Gene. "Whatever happened to 'nothing's getting through the Gene Genie?'" he asked wryly.
For an instant, Gene looked sheepish and a little harried. Then he shrugged. "Well that's just what they are. Nothin'. Nothin' good and nothin' important." He crossed his arms and gave Sam a meaningful look.
The DI knew exactly what his DCI meant.
This was it. This was where Sam got to act as bait. This was where they were going to do their best to find out what Gore and Babbin knew, how deeply the pair was involved in the murders.
Sam managed a wan smirk.
It was just going to go down a lot sooner than they had hoped.