Hazard - Chapter 8

[fbrobey.livejournal.com]

I didn't want to leave you all in the dark for too long so here's some more Hazard to sink your teeth into...

Title: Hazard
Chapter(s): 8 of 30
Rating:  12 (Minor language)
Characters: OMC, Ryan, Greg
Notes: Based on the song "Hazard" by Richard Marx

 

Detective Hickson found the battered front door of Ryan’s flat already open when he arrived.  Barred by yellow “Do Not Cross” crime scene tape.  Ducking and diving, he pushed his way through, as he had done on many occasions with other more senior detectives.  Having made his way through Hickson straightened up, breathing heavily.  This was his crime scene.  His murder case, he wasn’t going to be mucking it up.

 

The house bore the unmistakable signs of police presence.  The frenzied search had turned Ryan’s small and usually fairly neat territory into something that resembled a war zone. The police officer pressed his way along the uneven path, ignoring the debris of Ryan’s possessions littered precariously on the greying, cream coloured carpet, which sagged flat before springing up again with each footstep Hickson trod along it.

 

Sofa cushions were strewn across the floor joined by an upended lamp, pictures of faces held dear by Ryan, Hickson could only assume, the television remote control, a gravy coated plate and a clock still ticking away the minutes bravely despite its smashed glass face.

 

From the mantle piece shone a photograph that grabbed Hickson’s attention with little effort. A younger yet recognisable Ryan stood, his arms wrapped tightly around a shorter man with glasses.  Both were smiling with identical grins plastered their faces, twin crops of biscuit coloured curls clearly blowing in a non-existent wind. 

 

Clasping the photo with a steady hand, he saw the smashed frame lay just beyond the picture.  Small fragments of broken glass still clung, embedded stubbornly in the photograph itself.  Hickson stared for what seemed like hours, transfixed by the happy faces brown and green eyes twinkling youthfully in unison.

 

“What happened between them?” pondered Hickson until a sharp voice brought him back to reality.

“Detective?” called Stanford through the dusty lounge from what appeared to be a minute kitchen. “In here.”  Hickson obeyed the summons, spotting immediately what the phone call had been about.

 

“A wet coat.” announced Stanford, holding up the item his fingers pointing to portentous splashes of red. “Complete with blood.” Hickson furrowed his brow thoughtfully.

“The victim’s?” He enquired with interest, inspecting the clothing more closely.  The patch of scarlet was engrained within the material, soaking it, staining it, almost as if it was meant to be there.

 

“We can’t tell without swabbing it for a DNA test, however we checked the sink taps and found they tested positive for blood also, complete with bloody fingerprints which may connect its presence to Mr Stiles.” explained Stanford, eyes alight with the prospect of new evidence.

 

Hickson’s eyes expanded as logic struck him.  The same adrenaline rush hit him as if he’d just found the missing puzzle piece for a picture that had remained uncompleted for months. 

“Mr Mochrie was found with wounds on his arms.  Is it possible Mr. Stiles is trying to hide something from us?” reflected Hickson.

 

*****
 

“Do these possessions belong to you Mr. Stiles?” growled Hickson thrusting the sopping overcoat and muddy Wellington boots, now bagged up in clear plastic, designed to preserve all evidence.  Ryan glanced down nervously at the items.

 

“Yes.” admitted Ryan, unaware of the incriminating stain, which lay on his coat just beyond sight where the material had been cleverly folded by Hickson and Stanford.

“And am I correct in assuming you wore them last night?” questioned Hickson, delving further into Ryan’s defenceless mind with his probing queries.  He hung on every single on of Ryan’s words, listening intently for tone changes, slip ups, anything to suggest guilt.

 

“Yes I did.” commented Ryan shortly, which received an abrupt sneer from Hickson’s direction, telling him to continue.  “I was out hunting okay?” Ryan continued defensively, although uncertainty filled him from within. 

“Late in the evening in a thunderstorm?” asked the sharp-tongued policeman, no hesitance in his manner or questions.

 

Ryan nodded.  As he did so he became suddenly conscious of the accusation present in the stare Hickson was subjecting him to.  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking anywhere but at his interrogator.

“It helps to take my mind off of things…” Ryan revealed, still apprehensive at the immediate change in attitude from Hickson.

 

“What things Mr Stiles?” pushed the detective, on tenterhooks.  He was close to another chunk of the truth, a churn of his stomach told him that. 

“Ask the bastard who murdered Colin.” snarled Ryan, temper rising as the detective approached the raw subject.  He leapt to his feet, longing to get out he shook with barely suppressed rage.

 

“We will be speaking to Mister Proops again.” assured Hickson. “However we like to get all sides of a story.  What things?” repeated Hickson, motioning to Ryan to return to his seat, the control on his own temper waning.

 

Begrudgingly Ryan threw his body back into his chair before speaking.

“Okay… okay… I argued with Greg and Colin was involved.” revealed Ryan who was staring at the table, making Hickson sit up a little straighter in his own place, intrigued.

“When was this?” He snapped.

“I don’t know exactly,” admitted Ryan truthfully. “About 2 weeks ago, I guess.”

 

“What was the argument about?” pried the detective, attention solely on Ryan’s words as though they were his oxygen supply.  Ryan didn’t answer.

“WHAT WAS THE ARGUMENT ABOUT?” thundered Hickson, making Ryan jump, alarmed.

“Alright… I’ll tell you, but you have to understand a few things first…”

 

“What do you mean?” asked Hickson, his calmer tone returned.  Whatever Hickson had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t the answer he got.

“About Colin and I.  We… we were a bit more than best friends.  We were soul mates, and we… we’d been seeing each other for about 11 months before the argument.”  Ryan resigned himself to saying.  He could see no way out of Hickson’s questioning but to answer his enquiries into Ryan’s business.

 

“So… you were Mr. Mochrie’s partner then?” asked the detective, stunned for the first time since he first began interrogating Ryan and Greg the previous night.  Ryan nodded. 
”And how does Mr. Proops fit in?” wondered Hickson aloud, scratching the back of his head deep in intrigue.

 

“Greg seemed to think that he and I were dating.” snarled Ryan bitterly.  “He found out about Colin and got really angry.  He threw Colin out of my own house because of his own stupid jealousy…” he continued gruffly, ignoring the perplexed look on Hickson’s face.  

“But where would he get that idea from Mr Stiles?” uttered Hickson, trying to piece together the new information, which was a blur of unlinked facts.  Ryan’s story didn’t make sense.

 

“He’s not right in the head.” snapped Ryan viciously.  “He’s an alcoholic waste of space, who seemed to think he owned me.” Hickson considered this.

“Tell me exactly what was said.”

 

Comments

[spectalcat.livejournal.com]

The plot thickens, big time! Even more intrigued by each installment than all the previous ones combined, and trying desperately hard not to draw conclusions!

[fbrobey.livejournal.com]

Aww thanks cat, you can expect more plot twists, although it will become clearer eventually I promise ^_^

Ooh draw conclusions I'm intrigued about your theories! Awww, I hope Chapter 9 doesn't disappoint thankies for reading and commenting!

*hugs* xxxxxx

[fbrobey.livejournal.com]

*sticks her ear back on with pritt stick* :P Awww don't be silly I love your comments ^_^ The longer the better!! I promise I will update as soon as I can, it's just being beta-ed! :D

Thanks so much, I'm glad I'm provoking your sympathy since I feel great sympathy towards them both too! "Only you, my friend, are capable of writing something and portraying something this terrific!" *blushes* you flatter me far too much! THANK YOU!!

I could see the photograph clearly so I just wrote what I saw lol! :D And don't worry it came out right it is a depressing story, but once again my soft heartedness has let in some little rays of light heartedness...damn it :P

Thanks so much for reading and commenting my dear! Eagerly awaiting more of yours!!

*hugs*

Flo xxxxxxx

[clayangel.livejournal.com]

he wasn’t going to be mucking it up. -- I like your phrasing here. "Mucking it up" seems like something this character would say, so using it to describe his thoughts seems so fitting. It really seems like you've gotten into his head. ^_^

Hmmm...interesting. But I feel like we're not getting all sides of the story here. You do weave a wonderful mystery. ^_^ I love this story.

[fbrobey.livejournal.com]

I have unfortunatley I've even started to grow a Hickson mustasche *strokes thoughtfully as she writes more chapters* Nah Hickson is good fun to write even if he is mean ^_^

Thank you so much for your kind words! Much appreciated!

*hugs*

xxxxx