Thank-you to everyone who has added 'Another DI' to story alerts and favourites! Big thanks for those who have reviewed too :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Ashes to Ashes. I will never own Ashes to Ashes. This is my imagination running wild...
Chapter 2
CID gathered at the restaurant which was round the corner from Fenchurch, the owners were Italian, food was excellent; mixture of English and Italian cuisine and the house wine was cheap but great quality. Bar staff were friendly; and Gene had built up trust between the owner; allowing him, and only him to have a tab. The tab of which, never had been paid. Whenever confronted, Gene would say that he brought them custom every night; the unpaid tab was their way of thanking him.
Gene introduced Molly to the rest of the department properly; DI Jonathon Brooks, DS Amanda Marshall, DS Rosaline Patel and DC's Rupert Jessops and Thomas Jones. After, he bought a round of drinks for his team, they shared a few laughs, getting away from the events of the outside world, before getting back into a sombre, drunken silence. Gene took Molly aside, to a quieter part of the restaurant.
"Cheer-up" Gene made an effort to be nice. Molly made an attempt to smile
"I don't really understand why I'm here, one minute I'm using The Wall, making a case file then, and there was this cracking sound, crash. I opened my eyes, and I was outside here, looked in my jacket and turns out I'm still DI Molly Grant. I can't be here; I have to get back home to my son and husband."
"How old is he, your son?"
"Alexander, but everyone calls him Xand, he's 16."
"Blimey, how old were you when you had him?"
"I had a messed up teen years. All started on my 12th birthday." She paused, June 2008; she was still 11, July 2008, her 12th birthday, "My mum was shot, on my birthday; she died in hospital later that day."
"I'm sorry."
"Me to, it was a long time ago, in a way." Gene looked at her strangely; he had to, she had to realise why she was here. "Next month is my birthday, keeps it fresh in thought every year. It's something that never leaves you; this empty space where memories should be." Molly trailed off; finishing her second large glass of white.
"Do you want another?" Gene asked, looking at Molly's empty glass.
"Better not, thanks anyway. How many have you had?" Gene looked bemused, "can you give me a lift to a hotel or something, please."
"Yeah."
Molly followed Gene to his car; one that she remembered that had come onto the market very early in 2008; a black Audi A4 3.2 Quattro. Molly put her belt on; knowing she would need to. By law, Gene had to put his on too; something that he hadn't thought that he'd ever have to do. He drove the opposite direction to Fenchurch station, for nothing more than two minutes, pulling up by a block of flats; where Luigi's had once been… Molly felt the car stop, she opened her eyes; wine had taken effect.
"I own flats – I let 'em out." Gene said fast, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. It wasn't true, he'd bought the flat, Alex's flat, when Luigi closed his restaurant and went back to Italy.
"Oh, yes, of course."
"I'll take you up."
Gene took Molly up, opening the door, she followed him in. The kitchen had the same white cupboards with red door handles that Alex had left. Gene hadn't used them anyway, they remained nearly new.
"You can stay 'ere as long as you want – it's fully furnished."
"Gene, I'm a bit confused to why you're doing this. I mean, you don't know me"
"You're a copper. Good one from what I've already seen. Besides you remind me of someone I used to know."
"Thank you."
"There's tea and coffee in the cupboards."
"Great." She paused, not really knowing if Gene wanted a cup, or if he was just saying it. "Do you want a coffee before you go?"
"Probably could do with one, thanks."
"Sugar?"
"Five."
"Surprised your teeth haven't rotted away! Is it five every time?"
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
They sat at the small kitchen table, drinking in the unbearable awkward silence; neither one of them knowing quite what to say. Molly wondered if he'd got the wrong idea about 'coffee'. Gene was also thinking if she'd got the wrong idea about coffee, that and the uncanny resemblance to Alex. Not being able to bear the sound of the wrong-timed clock going tick tick tock, he was the first to speak.
"You'll get back you know."
"How do you?"
"I've met people like you before, those who go on transfer, and can't quite believe how quickly it happens."
"Can you send me back Guv? Transfer me home."
"Not yet, you're here until there is someone to replace you. And as there isn't, you can't leave."
"I miss my little boy and my husband."
"Your little boy aint so little, you told me he's 16, he'll be just fine. And your husband is probably loving the peace and quite; not having his Mrs bite his ear off every five seconds."
"I can tell you've not had any children. And that you have been married."
"Might still be married!"
"No offence Guv, but..." Molly stopped herself before she made a fool of herself, she'd only just met him. But if he was her way home, then she'd play every tactic, even if she didn't want to.
"Nah, you're right, there is no Mrs Hunt anymore."
"Girlfriend, fiancée?"
"A long time ago maybe, but she had to leave."
"And you're still not over her."
Gene looked away; down at his coffee, which he'd finished. Molly realised she'd hit a vulnerable spot stood up, ending their evening. Gene stood too.
"Ta for the coffee, wouldn't want to be falling asleep at the wheel now would we?"
"No, we wouldn't"
"See you tomorrow"
"Night Guv."
Gene walked back out of the flat and to his Quattro, he sat in the driver's seat, rubbing his face with his bare hands. He hadn't spoken about children or wives and husbands before with the others; they'd just got on with it, kept quiet; not wanting to seem crazy. 'Oh Bolly, still 25 years on and you still have me wrapped around your little finger.' Gene opened the glove pocket, taking a pair of gloves, set of tweezers and an evidence bag. Putting the gloves on; not wanting to contaminate the sample of hair that he was removing from the headrest.
Molly looked around the flat, the kitchen; white units with red knobs. Off the kitchen; an orange door led her through to the bedroom, it was dominated by the large black bed in its centre, she opened the wardrobe; there were a few shirts; 'probably belonged to the tenant before'. Molly opened the bedside units and chest of draws; finding them empty, but had an old perfumed scent which was present when she opened them. There was a door beside the wardrobe; leading to the basic bathroom. Just a bath, toilet and hand basin; no shower. There was a thin line of grey dust that coated the bathroom. 'When was this place last cleaned?' Back to the kitchen, she opened the draws and cupboards; cutlery, cups, plates and glasses. Under the sink was some washing up liquid and kitchen cleaner, also some bottles of wine labelled "Luigi's House, 1980" putting the vintage wine back she wondered through to the lounge, it was painted grey and had retro décor air to it "who ever lived here, loved the 80s." She said out loud to herself. 'Maybe no one has lived here since the 80s…' The only modern technology was the flat screen TV that was on its stand, other gizmos included a tape player and record player. Molly pressed play of the old cassette player.
'So true, funny how it seems, always in time, but never in line for dreams, head over heals when toe to toe, this is the sound of my soul, this is the sound. Bought a ticket to the world, but know I've come back again, why do I find it so hard to write the next line, oh I want the truth to be said. I know this much is true'. Molly stopped it playing, remembering the song; Spandau ballet, True. 'Surely they could've got that on CD.'
The player jumped back on, 'I know this much is true', static followed "Mum? Mum? Please wake up, please. You're in hospital, they blew it up Mum, they realised that you had nearly found out about them, they didn't want you to, none of you to. Scotland Yard is a pile of rubble, you're lucky to be alive! Please mum, it's been two weeks, you need to wake up" the static ended Xand's pleas, Molly turned the cassette player off, 'what the hell is going on' she thought. Sitting on the grey and black diagonally-striped sofa; thinking about what she'd just heard.
Driving to his storage lockup, he wondered if it could be true.
He knew exactly where Alex's file was, no looking necessary. Taking out the bag of hair that he'd collected from her pillow the night she left, which he had not opened since.
Getting back to Scotland Yard, he went straight to the forensics department; he knew that Josh would be still there.
"Josh?" Gene turned on the lights to the dark lab. Hearing the sound of a metal plate of some sort hit the hard floor, he knew Josh was defiantly here.
"Gene? Is that you Gene?"
"Get your arse over here Josh; I've got something for you."
From the back of the lab, appeared a slim build man with slicked back blonde hair, and magnifying glasses for specs.
"It's a bit late for you. What you doing here?"
"I need some DNA testing – see if these two samples are related."
"Big case?" Josh took the samples and held them up to the light.
"Not sure yet" he lied.
"It's been quiet today, should have these for you by tomorrow; I'll email you or call."
"Thanks." Gene knew that he would get every way possible of Josh trying to reach him, he'd once received a letter three days after he'd collected the results; telling him that collection was ready. He'd gone back to Josh, telling him that there was no point in letters as everything else was far quicker. Josh had insisted that he must send a paper copy over; Gene had heard in the mutters about OCD... He gave Josh his fax number to satisfy the need for paper.
to be continued...
Thanks for reading - I hope you enjoyed it!
