Flash Fiction Friday, Cycle 94

This week's prompt was: write a 1000 word story about someone who has no self awareness, or, alternatively, someone who has far too much. Include the following words: curve, substitution, relief, sacrifice, strikeout.

I surprised myself when I found Gemma Burton making an early re-appearance!


A Question of Intention

I like baseball. I like DVD's. Jim will not let me have one. Jim is not here. I will have a DVD. There is a DVD about baseball. That is my DVD.

---

"Oh come on, Sarge! You must be kidding."

Detective Constable Burton looked up from the statement made by the arresting officer and fixed the eyes of her bemused supervisor.

"This kid was arrested at 2.00pm yesterday. He's been in the cells for nearly 18 hours. And for what? A DVD of an old movie that was on the 'reduced to clear' stand. What the hell was 'Bull Durham' about anyway?"

Sergeant Smith had composed himself during the short tirade and projected unmoved authority when he responded, "You know the score, Gemma. Shoplifters WILL be prosecuted. It says so all over the shop he was arrested in. Now get down to custody, make him cough and put the job to bed."

Smith felt relief as DC Burton left the office. His eye lingered a little too long on the curve of her posterior as the door swung to.

The young detective felt uneasy as she walked the corridors of the enormous city centre police station heading for the custody suite. The arresting officer had kept his statement to the bare bones of necessity: attendance at the shopping precinct in response to a 'shout' on the radio, the suspect detained in a back office of the media outlet in company with store security men, an unpaid for DVD on the small table in front of him, confirmation of personal details. All very straightforward. It was the matter of fact responses from the suspect recorded by the arresting officer that jarred. Perhaps he had abbreviated what had been said. In her book there was no substitution for being thorough and truthful about what a suspect had to say. "Lazy arse," muttered DC Burton to no-one in particular under her breath.

---

I do not like this room. I do not like these men. Jim is not here. I should not talk to anyone without him. Here is a new man. He is a police man. I can talk to a police man.

"What's your name, son?"

"Martin Johnson."

"Did you take this DVD?"

You are here with me. The DVD is here. You know this so I do not answer.

"Martin Johnson, I am arresting you on suspicion of theft. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

---

Custody was as busy as always. Police officers trying to make progress had to learn to live with the ever present necessity of competing for the attention of the Custody Sergeants. Gemma Burton patiently joined the queue.

"Well good morning, Ms Burton. Jolly nice to have a detective of the plain clothes variety join us uniformed low-life this morning."

Sergeant MacIntyre was old school. He treated Gemma Burton to a big wink.

"Good morning Mac," Gemma said while returning the favour with her brightest smile. "Tell me about young Mr Johnson in C2 please."

"He wasn't seen yesterday," said Mac. "Not enough hands available. I spoke to Johnson this morning when I came on. He wasn't really making any sense so although he's 22 I've got an appropriate adult to have a look at him. I also sent a car round to his address to see if anyone could shed any light. Strikeout - there was no answer."

---

I don't like this room. It is not comfortable and it is too bright. I want Jim.

"Hi Martin. My name is Bill. I'm a volunteer with the appropriate adult service. It's my job to look after your welfare while in custody. Do you know why you're here?"

Martin was sat on a cell mattress. Bill touched Martin on his shoulder and tried in vain to make eye contact. Martin pulled away and, drawing his legs up to his chest, started to rock backwards and forwards.

Bill is not Jim. Bill is not a policeman. I must not speak to him.

---

"Hi, I'm Bill Flitwick, appropriate adult service. Are you the interviewing officer?"

"Yes, I am, DC Gemma Burton. What do you think Bill?"

"To be honest I'm not happy. Martin is very unresponsive. Are you ok for half an hour while I check things out with Social Services?"

"No problem. I'm going back up to the CID office. It's a real sacrifice but I'll get myself another coffee. Give me a call when you're done."

---

Jim was asleep. He was lying on the floor. I wanted to go out. Jim would not wake up. Day and night. Day and night. I wanted a DVD. Jim would not wake up and take me. I had eaten all the jam. I let myself out. I want to go home now.

---

Gemma Burton had finished her coffee. She was trying to read a forensic report in relation to another case. It was hard to focus. She found herself distracted by Martin Johnson. The phone rang and she picked it up straightaway.

"Hi Gemma. It's Bill. I've spoken to Social Services. Martin is known to them. Apparently, he is autistic. He lives with his step-dad, Jim Bradbury. I've tried getting him on the mobile and landline numbers on record but he hasn't picked up."

"Thanks for that, Bill. As far as I know Jim hasn't tried to contact us either. You'd think we would have heard from him by now if he was concerned or, for that matter, able to be concerned about Martin."

Gemma paused for a moment, deep in thought.

"I'm going to send uniformed officers back round to the address. This time we need to take a look inside."