I don't own Ashes to Ashes
---
He didn't want to take her back to the scene of the crime; he knew the warehouse, the pavement, the river and all it represented would shake and upset her as much as it had before... but going back to the station would waste precious time, in which Joe Ellison might decide being around here was too dangerous, and run away... so he pulled up next to the river once more, watching as Alex got out of the car and walking beside her towards the river's edge, looking out to the small wooden boat and waiting patiently. Within ten minutes, it was mooring at the side, and Joe Ellison, still in his tweed jacket and anorak, as though he never wore anything else, stepped out onto the concrete pavement to look at them.
Gene had taken him the day before as having been weathered by his line of work and the days he spent on the water. Today, he looked less weather-worn and more tired and beaten, as though there were weights dragging down on the lids of her eyes, causing swelling and puffiness that was tinted with a crude purple colour. He almost felt sympathetic, but there was a coldness in his stomach that warned him the man before them had mislead police in a murder investigation and was not to be trusted.
"Mister Ellison, right?" Gene said gruffly, flashing his police badge.
"Yes... yes... yes... no... what've I done? Didn't do anything..." He was wringing his hands, eyes averted, darting to and fro like yo-yos. His brow was becoming increasingly shiny, reflecting the cool morning sun in the glimmer of his sweat as he stood there, alternately scratching his arms and running his hands through his hair, before reverting back to the twisting and wringing of his fingers. Gene stepped forwards and grabbed him roughly by the arm.
"Your scummy little arse is goin' back to the station, an' you're givin' me answers before I twist your scrawny little head from your neck, you got that?" His voice was low and menacing, growled directly into the other mans ears. Gene saw, out of the corner of his eye, the disapproval in Alex's gaze, but for once, he wasn't sure whether it was intended for him or not.
"I didn' do anything!" Ellison's voice was panicked and high, his eyes wide and fearful as Gene fiercely twisted his arms behind his back, shoving him towards the car.
"Get any of the muck on your boots in my car and I won't just do you for false evidence, I'll 'ave you done for maltreatment of police property!" He cuffed his wrists behind him, and then shoved him forcefully, pressing down on his neck, into the backseat, eyes flashing angrily as he returned to the driving side, waiting for Alex, who was slowly and timidly walking back to the car, to join them, before turning the ignition on. He didn't say anything as she strapped herself in -something he'd given up telling her not to bother with- but the look they exchanged was significant enough. Under pretence of putting his arm across the back of her seat as he reversed, he gave her far shoulder a brief squeeze, then pulled his arm back and sped them to the station.
---
It was eleven o'clock in the morning on a Thursday, but CID was buzzing with activity as Gene, not all too kindly, dragged Ellison towards the interview room and practically threw him into the seat, getting right in his face, hands gripping each of Ellison's shoulders hard as he hissed at him, "tell me about yesterday morning you piece of scum, and don't you dare lie to me again!"
Ellison was shaking his head, "Don't know... I don't know... promise!"
"Then tell me the name of the girl you pulled out of that river you lying piece of shit!" His hands tightened on the scruff of the anorak, yanking the man forwards so that Gene's breath wafted into his face. From the other side of the room, Alex saw the fear in Ellison's eyes, but her usual empathy, her normal wish to see Gene restrain himself, was washed away as she thought about the body of the girl that now lay on a cold slab... because even if Ellison wasn't responsible, he knew her, and he'd lied, and the rational part of her mind had abdicated in favour of the unjustified, brash violence that Gene so often used to vent his emotion...
"Found her... got her out... didn' look... didn' wanna look!" His voice was weak, and his eyes, though trying to stay firmly fixed on Gene's, were flickering nervously back and forward.
"So it'll come as a surprise to you then, will it, that the girl you pulled out o' the Thames was Rosa McKellen, you're own bloody goddaughter?" The venom in Gene's voice was unmistakeable, and spit flew from his mouth onto Ellison's face, causing the already quivering suspect to flinch and shy away. With a sharp tug, Gene had pulled Ellison to his feet by the scruff of his neck so that his feet were barely touching the floor, before shaking him thoroughly. "That new to you, is it, Ellison?" he hissed.
"Didn' know 'er..." Ellison said weakly, voice shaken and lip quivering as Gene tightened his grip on her neck.
"You're a bloody liar, Ellison!" He hissed. "If you didn' know her, why's there a picture of you, Benji Bragden and Rosa McKellen on her mother's mantelpiece?"
When the other man didn't respond, Gene threw him back into his seat, pulling back a fist and bringing it to the other mans cheek in a vicious right-hook. After a silence of two seconds, he delivered another thump, and then pulled him up high enough to bring his knee into Ellison's stomach, causing the older man to gasp in pain, spluttering and spitting as he collapsed in a heap. Gene was preparing to deliver another kick when Alex appeared at his side, placing a delicate hand on his arm and squeezing briefly. "Leave him now, Guv... sit down, and we'll talk to him." She didn't let go of him until he'd looked repeatedly from her to Ellison, then, after a moment of indecision, lowered his arm, walking round to the table and sitting heavily down in his chair, hitting the button on the tape recorder with a violent finger, causing Alex to jump as it practically leapt up in the air. He nodded at Alex to talk, looking at Ellison with unmistakeable disgust and loathing, inwardly pleased to see the split in the man's lip as a result of his right hook.
"Interview with Joe Ellison, on the twenty-fourth of April, nineteen-eighty-two. Present are DI Drake, and DCI Hunt." She slipped into the seat beside Gene, leaning forward with her hands linked and surveying Ellison with a controlled mask of disinterest, though Gene could tell, from the whiteness of her knuckles, that she was withholding the same torrent of hatred and disgust that he himself had just partially vented.
"Is your name Joe Ellison?" She asked calmly, and Gene resisted voicing a snort of disgust. When Ellison nodded, Alex went on. "Are you over forty years of age?"
Looking confused, Ellison muttered in response, "Yes."
"Are you married?"
Another frown of confused thoughtfulness, then a soft, "No."
"Do you have any children?"
Still he frowned, but answered, "No."
"Do you enjoy fishing?"
"Yes."
"Have you ever had an operation?"
"Yes."
"Did you finish school when you were younger?"
"No."
"Have you always lived in London?"
"Yes."
"Do you like maths?"
"No... no..."
They went on and on, simple yes/no questions that made Gene want to yawn and question the relevance of, but he let her work, lighting up a cigarette and blowing the smoke in Ellison's crinkled face without remorse. Occasionally, he would repeat his answer two or three times, and Gene would resist the urge to swat the man around the head. Soon, though, he began to answer without hesitation, quickly replying, instinctive almost, and, eventually, they came to an end, and Gene could feel Alex tensing slightly beside him as she approached the final question.
"Have you ever consumed alcohol?"
"Yes."
"Have you ever smoked?"
"No!"
"Did you know Rosa McKellen?"
"Yes..."
The room fell silent as he opened and closed his mouth, searching for a way to reply, for a retort that would cover his tracks... Gene ground his jaw angrily, cracking his knuckles menacingly as Alex sat back with a heavy breath, closing her eyes briefly before talking again.
"Why did you tell us you didn't know the identity of the body?" She asked.
"I'll tell you why, Bols; because he's a lying, sick, murderous bastard!" Gene's voice was practically crackling with electric anger, his cold tone causing the hairs on the back of Alex's neck to stand up. He did, however, remain seated, and though Alex didn't ask questions as to why, she was thankful for it.
"Mr Ellison, would you please answer the question?" Her voice was soft, though tinted with a slight malice that Gene found strangely endearing.
Ellison shifted in his seat, then muttered, "no... no... no..."
Alex couldn't stop Gene launching across the table then, and by the time she'd been able to react, he was dragging Ellison over the desk and slamming him up against the nearest wall in another wave of aggression. "You bloody answer the question before I string you up to the lights by your bollucks!"
The flash in Gene's eyes was unmistakeable, and Ellison caved, shrinking back as though trying to sink into the wall as he sobbed, "I couldn't tell... I didn't know... her face was covered in blood!"
"You pulled her out of a river you brainless little shite! I'm sure your tiny, useless excuse for a brain couldn't comprehend it, but the wonder of water, you great piece of piss, is that it washes dirt and blood off!" Spit was flying from his lip again, and Alex watched nervously as Gene shook him once more, bringing Ellison closer so that they were nearly nose-to-nose. "So are you telling me, that even when her face was clean, you couldn't tell it was your bleeding goddaughter?"
Ellison's face was fearful and terrified, and his words stumbled and tripped off his tongue, "Yes... I mean no... maybe... no... yes... dunno... couldn' tell... didn' look.... didn' wanna... couldn' say... yes... no... maybe..."
Gene was bristling, and slammed him achingly into the wall once again. "You better get your tongue around those words you little prat, or I'll make good on my threat and string you up to the ceiling and let the whole of my team loose on you! And when they're done, I'll throw you in a cell with a bunch of nancy fairies, and let them have a cop o' your scrawny little arse! Maybe that'll loosen your lying tongue!" He practically threw him to the ground, visibly quaking with fury as Ellison continuously sobbed and shook his head.
"Couldn' tell... couldn' say... didn' look... wouldn' look... didn' wanna know..." His hands were flexing, fidgeting and wringing each other repeatedly. His eyes were still darting around in every direction, and the muscle in his jaw was twitching nervously. Alex could see Gene's impatience rising, and, walking towards him she spoke to him quietly.
"Give me ten minutes with him, Guv," her voice was so soft that Gene had to strain his ears to hear her. "I'll find out what he knows, and then maybe we'll get somewhere..."
Ellison remained apparently oblivious to them as Gene shifted his body to the left slightly, not moving his eyes but speaking directly to Alex. "He's scum, Bols. You think I'm leaving you alone with the murdering little shit?"
"I've been alone with worse, Guv." She turned her back on Ellison and murmured, "You can stand outside if you want, but don't do anything unless I want you to. Ok?"
Gene looked thoughtful and assessing, and then gave a barely perceptible nod. "Who's in charge 'ere Bols..?" with a reluctant sigh, he added, "Fine. Work your psychtwattery wonders, Bollykecks, but if he moves a muscle I'll bash him to an inch of 'is life. Understood?"
"I can handle it, Gene," she said, turning to look at Ellison and, after a ragged inhalation of breath, gently pulling him to his feet and placing him in his chair. Gene watched, seeing the restraint in Alex's posture as she tried to stop herself exacting her own, probably more painful punishment on the other man.
"I'm outside, Bolly," he muttered, walking out with one last withering look in Ellison's direction, slamming the door on the way.
---
"Tell me about Rosa," Alex said softly, imploringly, once they were both sat down, Ellison still quaking with nerves and fidgeting restlessly.
"Can't..." Ellison said dumbly. "Can't... Can't..."
"Yes you can," Alex said calmly, "just tell me what you knew about her... what was she like?"
"Pretty. And ugly..." he was shaking, eyes full of fear and wonderment and vulnerability as Alex watched him. "Clever... very clever... clever... stupid... very stupid..." He spoke as though he were holding both sides of a conversation, arguing with himself...
"Why was she stupid?" Alex asked, hands held gently out in front of her. "Did she do something?"
"Maths... liked maths... good at maths... not science... Hated science... didn't listen... never listened... silly girl... stupid girl..." A small smile spread over his weathered face, and though it wasn't even slightly malicious, it sent shivers down her spine. "She liked me... liked me... godfather... liked me... always liked me." He looked up, as though to meet Alex's eyes, but the second she made the contact, he averted his eyes, shivering and shaking. "Pretty... pretty... pretty..."
"Mister Ellison, why do you think Rosa was stupid?"
"Fire. Fire. Fire."
"What fire?" Alex asked, cogs turning in her brain as she surveyed his strange behaviour. He was miming an action with his thumb, and looking out to Gene, who was flicking his lighter on and off, her mind clicked. "Did Rosa smoke?"
"Yes... yes... once... only once..." He looked around nervously, then buried his face in his hands, muttering to himself, "Aberdeen, abdomen, action, adaptation, adipose fin, aggregation, alkalinity, alevin, algae..." the list went on, and it took Alex a long while to make the connection, "coontail, cosmic clock, countdown method, cove..."
"Mister Ellison, are you talking about fishing?" She asked tentatively.
He nodded vigorously, then went back to his recital, on and on it went, and Alex could see Gene checking his watch outside...
"...Mylar strips, Mylar thread, nares, native, natural..."
Still he carried on, until, eventually, he petered out with a soft, "year class, yolk sac, zinger, zooplankton..."And then he looked up, eyes softer, but still unable to meet Alex's. "Rosa?"
"Mister Ellison, why did you misinform my colleague about Rosa's identity?"
"Told not to... asked not to... couldn'... shouldn'... not allowed... shouldn' tell... didn'... won'.... home... wanna go 'ome..."
---
"He's not the killer Gene," Alex said, stepping outside of the interview room and meeting his blue eyes, just as Ellison began to rock back and forth on his desk. "He's autistic, possibly schizophrenic too... he said she smoked once... he called her stupid because of it, but I don't think he'll say anymore." She looked at the pitiful man inside the room and sighed as Gene began his predictable onslaught.
"I don' care whether he's the Queen of England! He's bloody mislead police in a murder investigation, and he's a key suspect!"
"Based on what?" Alex snapped back. "Are his prints on the knife? Have we got any proof he saw her alive beforehand? He was told not to say who she was! He doesn't understand! You can't just push aside the fact he's got a problem and..."
"He's a lying scumbag and he's playin' you like a fool!" Gene hissed. "He wasn't bloody ortismatic-"
"Autistic!" Alex hissed.
"AUTISTIC then! He wasn't bloody autistic yesterday!"
"He's psychologically ill! He's got a split personality! He doesn't know what's right and wrong! You can't possibly believe that he actually killed her?" Her voice was rising, becoming more defensive as she threw her arms out for emphasis, pointing at the man in the room in front of them.
"I bloody can Bols, and until I know for gods-damned certain that he didn', he's stayin' in the cells, no matter how much you argue with me!" He glared down at her, daring her to protest, and Alex gritted her teeth before stepping closer to him and meeting his eyes coldly.
"You're making a big mistake, Guv," she told him softly. "He is ill, and more of a danger to himself than he could be to anyone else!"
"Well isn't that just fandabbydozey?" Gene growled harshly. "If you're so certain he's cuckoo, Drake, why don't you get your psych-twat-ological, posh-knickered, tarty friends to come along in white coats and lock him up? Because as long as his shitty little face doesn't show up on my patch again, I couldn't give a posh-mans bollucks what happens to him!" He gave her a hard, blazing look of annoyance and fury, then turned on his heel and stormed off down the corridor.
----
Alex didn't exchange words with Gene until much later in the afternoon, after having settled Ellison into the cells in a much more kindly fashion than she would have thought possible, given the earlier circumstances of the day. She'd asked him several more questions, trying to find out more about his relationship with Rosa, but when it became apparent he was in too much of a state to provide a decent answer, she left the cell, settling herself at her desk and thinking over all the information they had on Rosa McKellen... it wasn't much, and as she compiled a small list in order to begin creating a profile, she was drawn back to her earlier conclusion that it was suicide; despite the evidence, and the testament of Amanda, she couldn't help but think that this was a girl whose life was so overrun with terror and horrors, that she would have wanted to disappear. It was only then that she decided to venture into Gene's office, eyes hard as she took him in, bent over a notepad and scribbling at something. When Alex coughed, he quickly pulled it back towards him, flipping the cover over the paper and settling his eyes on her, distaste mirrored in his expression as he surveyed her calm exterior.
He could sense she was going to start up on something again, something about Ellison and the fact he needed hypnotism, or whatever the hell it was they did with nut jobs these days... and though he cursed it, when she opened her gob and starting talking about suicide again, he wished she'd turn the hypnosis on him and make him forget all the pish-posh-tosh that was falling out of her mouth.
"It's suicide, Guv," she said determinedly. "I can feel it! She killed herself; she's anorexic, she's terminally ill, her parents aren't together..."
"You seem to be repeating every piece of bollucks you've thrown at me in the last twenty-four hours, Drake, and I don't need it! You're feelings can go take a running jump; I am not sitting here and listening to your psychiatry bullshit, talking about how bloody depressed she was! She had a boyfriend, she was smart, she had mates at school and she had a damn-good mother! Now you tell me, why the hell would she want to top herself with that list?"
Alex shrugged. "Aside from the fact she was developing an increasingly more hideous disfigurement by the day, and the fact that even men like you, who've seen horrors worse than most, shied away from her picture because of it... well, aside from that, I don't know what it could be!" Sarcasm dripped from her words, but after several moments she added, more calmly and rationally, "but I can imagine Benji Bragden might." She pushed the receipt from the evidence room across the table. "Call him."
Gene rolled his eyes. "I can find out where he lives and what his number is alot easier than that you daft tart! I've got a perfectly good set of files that tell me where every nancy-bending-fairy poofter lives, and what their number is, which don't require me putting myself out."
"Fine." Alex said. "I'll do it myself." She strode around his desk, picked up the receiver on the phone and, after a few glances at the number, typed it in quickly and efficiently. Her eyes were fixed firmly on the wall, avoiding Gene, who watched with irritation, his toe tapping impatiently as she stood there, phone to her ear.
"Hello? Hello, yes, my names Alex Drake... is it possible to speak to Benji Bragden?" She'd put on a posh-er voice than normal, Gene thought, and it made her sound even more like she'd got a snooker cue up her arse... it was oddly attractive.
"Oh..." Alex said, and Gene's eyebrows rose in inquisitive curiosity as Alex flushed red. "No... no that's quite fine...no... no thank you... thank you... goodbye." Gene's lip twitched as she dropped the receiver back into its cradle.
"What psychiatric, wondrous enlightenments do you have for me then, Bols?" It wasn't lost on Alex that he'd reverted back to her nickname now that he thought she'd made a mistake, and she took a mental note to remind herself to ignore him at Luigi's that night. "Is he a fairy with a small wand? A plonk dressed as a fella 'cause she's too scared to join the Gay Pride Parade?"
"It's 'march' not 'parade'," Alex muttered, eyes downcast as she continued to flush. "And no... He's not."
Unable to resist a further dig, Gene smirked, "so, what did you learn from your short-lived excursion?"
Beet red and embarrassed, Alex muttered. "It's the number for an Indian take-away. It's not him." Her jaw was clenched, and she closed her eyes against the delighted snort that left Gene's throat.
"Best thing you've said all week, Bols," Gene grinned, digging under a pile of papers on his desk and retrieving a scrap of paper, on which were written Benji Bragden's name, address and telephone number. "Got it all 'here, Bollykecks... but at least you saved me ringin' up tomorrow." He stood up, glancing at the watch with a smirk. "Beer o'clock, Bolly; you buy me a whiskey and I won' tell the others."
----
It was three o'clock in the morning.
The streets outside were dark and yet Alex wasn't asleep; every light was on as she huddled on her sofa, shaking and shivering, looking straight ahead, terrified of the image that had ingrained itself onto her mind's eye, glowing vividly as she tried to breathe, hands clasped tight around her knees as she rocked back and forth, back and forth... Tears were falling heavily down her cheeks, making her mascara and foundation run over the rest of her face. Her chest was tight, her head was spinning, and she was frozen in her mindset, couldn't shake it away...
She knew it wasn't real.
She knew it wasn't happening.
If she should be scared of anything it shouldn't be the image itself, but the fact she was falling prey to it... she knew it wasn't real...
She knew it wasn't real, and yet the image of Molly in the place of Rosa McKellen, cold on the forensics slab with chunks of skin hacked away and meticulously cleaned, was utterly terrifying, and she couldn't chase it away.
----
The phone rang out in the darkness, a heavy hand reaching out to grab it, accompanied by a gruff emission of expletives as it was lifted to his head.
"What?" He grunted, voice slightly muffled and agitated as he buried his face in the pillow.
"Gene?" A timid, scared voice replied, and though he'd never really heard it before, he knew it straight away.
"Bols..." He said, sitting up straight and letting his sheets fall down to his waist, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What's up?"
"Gene," she whispered again, "I'm scared."
----
Next update may be a few days or so; I've got a load of work, and the fella just got back from Uni, so I'll get back onto this as soon as things have all calmed down.
Please leave feedback and any tips on writing etc
Thank you
Mage of the Heart