Doctor Who_ Bad Therapy - Matthew Jones [89]
‘We still don’t,’ Harris interrupted, looking at the Doctor with undisguised contempt. ‘At least not until now.’
The Doctor met the Chief Inspector’s gaze evenly. ‘So why am I being accused of being in league with the Scratons?’
‘Scratons?’ Harris snapped. ‘What is this interest in them about? Albert Scraton is dead. There’s only Gordon left and he couldn’t hold the gang together. They disbanded months ago.’
‘Try telling that to Carl Scraton.’
‘Carl Scraton? You mentioned him before. I’ve never heard of him.’
‘Ask your sergeant. He seems to know all about them.’
Harris turned to Bridie, who was being held between the two constables.
‘Well?’
‘The Doctor’s off his head, sir,’ Bridie whined, his discomfort evident. ‘You said so yourself.’
151
Harris just stared at his sergeant, then he gestured to the officers to take him out of the room. ‘Let him cool off outside for a bit. I’ll talk to him later.’
When they were left alone in the sparsely furnished room, the Doctor straightened his tie and shirt collar. ‘I’d be careful of your sergeant, Chief Inspector. He seems to have access to information that he couldn’t possibly have access to unless –’
‘Unless he was as deceitful as you, perhaps?’
‘I was going to say unless he was in league with the people behind the killings,’ the Doctor said, ignoring the insult. He gripped his lapel with one hand and rubbed his chin with the other. ‘Yes, Moriah would need to have agents throughout London searching for the escaped Toys. How long has your sergeant been employed here? Was his transfer unusual in any way?’
The Doctor was taken aback when Harris got hold of both his shoulders and shook him roughly. ‘You just don’t stop, do you? I’ve had enough of you and your stupid ideas, Doctor whoever you are. Do you hear me? Not only have I been taken off this case, but I’ve been bloody suspended because of you. There’s going to be an inquiry into why I allowed an imposter to become one of my advisors. So, I don’t want to hear another word out of you. You’ll be held here overnight and charged in the morning.’ He rapped on the door.
‘Constable. I’m done in here,’ he shouted through it.
There was an awkward pause. Eventually, the Doctor said, ‘I’m sorry that I lied to you, Chief Inspector. When you discovered me in the mortuary I didn’t have much choice but to play along with your assumptions.’
‘Nonsense, Doctor. You could have told me the truth.’
The Doctor glanced down at his shoes. ‘Yes, yes I suppose I could have. It’s just that I didn’t think that you would believe me.’
‘I see. And what exactly is it that I wouldn’t believe?’
The truth tumbled out of the Doctor. ‘That I’m a traveller in space and time.
I realize that’s hard to believe, but it’s the truth. Remember the creature, the strange taxi?’ the Doctor added quickly, as he saw Harris raise his eyebrows impatiently. ‘Could that have possibly originated on this world?’
The door to the interview room opened and an officer entered.
‘Well could it?’ the Doctor pleaded; but he could sense that the attempt was futile. As he was bustled out of the room by the officer, the Doctor made one final attempt to convince the chief inspector. ‘I know who is responsible for the killings. I know because I’ve met him. The creature that swallowed both Jack and I took us back to his lair. Now Jack is in danger. Please. Don’t let anyone else die.’
And then the door was closed after him and the Doctor was dragged down to the cells.
∗ ∗ ∗
152
Harris stood in the empty interview room for a long moment, before he returned to his cubby-hole of an office. He didn’t miss the sniggers from the desk sergeant and a couple of inspectors as he crossed the foyer to the lift.
He was the biggest joke Charing Cross had ever known. There were already a whole series of gags about him going around the staff canteen. The lift took an age to arrive. When he finally entered his office, he slumped behind his desk and pulled out the bottle of whisky he kept in his filing cabinet. He poured