1. Where's Sammy?

“You’re…you’re…joking…” Sam paled. Chris looked up from his notes.

“Uh, no, Boss. He's missing.”

“No, I believe you, that’s not…you’re joking.”

“Uh, no?” Chris asked uncertainly.

Sam grabbed the notebook, snapping it out of Chris’ hands angrily. Ray looked over in aggravation, and Gene, who had only peripherally been involved in the conversation, stepped over.

“We got a problem with Chris’ notes? He drawing pictures again?” Gene snorted.

“No, just…impossible.” Sam shook his head and slammed the notebook onto his desk.

“Missing person report, Sam.” Gene said dangerously, and everyone held their breath.

Sam bounced his head and looked around, pursing his lips, then picked up the notebook again. “Some kind of joke?” He shook it at Gene, who frowned.

“Sam, you been in my private stock again?”

“I do not drink from your stock!”

Ray coughed and actually blushed, and Gene turned on him murderously.

“Just, er, swallowed my gum, Guv…” Ray said, rubbing his throat as Gene advanced on him.

“Can we stay on topic and not run off down lurid alleyways of homosexual innuendo?” Sam yelled, and everyone froze, eyes wide in horror.

“Wally?” Sam yelled again, shaking the notebook, ripping it open to Chris’ notes. “’Skinny white male, dark glasses, red and white ski cap, last seen in large crowd’? OH COME ON!!!!!”

“Wally ‘Waldo’ Wittingham.” Chris nodded in the dead silence that followed Sam’s outburst.

“Wally does NOT have a last name!” Sam shouted, throwing the notebook at Chris.

“Sam…” Gene looked at Sam, worried and annoyed.

“Er, I…I thought ‘e did…” Chris said, opening the notebook to check himself on that fact.

“Where’s Wally!” Sam slammed his hands on his desk and looked at the ceiling. “Someone leave this book next to my bed? Someone trying to read me a picture book? I hate Wally! It’s stupid! What ‘appened to the Famous Five?” He shouted heavenward. “Count of Monte Christo? Harry Potter!” He slapped the desk, still looking up. “‘Ell, 101 Dalmatians! I love Pongo!”

“Sam…” Gene tried again, stepping forward carefully. Everyone else was stepping back.

“NO! I will NOT look for a stupid skinny man in a ski cap! He’s probably lost in a big crowd of people wearing red shirts!”

Chris stuttered. “Er, the Wittingham’s got a family reunion, see, and they are all wearing red shirts to they can…find…each…other…” His voice trailed off in terror as Sam gazed at him with murderous intention.

Gene pointed at Sam, drawing himself up to full height. “Sam, we have a missing person report and we are going to treat it with the same serious regard we give to all….”

“Ey, Guv, don’t you got darts tonight?” Ray smacked his gum.

Gene pulled back and looked at his watch.

“And that’s all, gentlemen. Sam, go home and drink.” Gene stomped off to get his jacket.

Sam stalked out of CID and headed for home, and sure enough, he came across numerous small groups of red-shirted people all the way. Grinding his teeth, he got back to his flat and followed Gene’s advice to the letter, finishing the bottle of whiskey he had on hand and praying for a Waldo-free oblivion.

The next morning Sam tried to burrow into the surface of his desk as Gene briefed them.

“Tall, skinny, wearing blue pants and a red-and-white striped shirt, red ski cap…”

“…with white trim.” Sam groaned, rubbing his head into his folded arms.

“Er, yes. Now we’ve got word that he might be involved with something shady…”

“…Like a numbers racket…”

Gene walked over and smacked the folder he was holding onto Sam’s back. “I don’t suppose you would be willing to join the land of the sound mind? Or at least visit CID for a while and help us find this man?” Gene roared, and everyone stepped back, but Sam just lifted his head.

“Okay, okay, I’m playing along. Please, Guv, tell me: Where’s Wally?” Sam tilted his head, hung over and possibly still drunk, which was the best part.

Gene stared at him in frustration, then turned back to the rest of the team and cleared his throat as he looked at the case file. “Now, word is that he might ‘ave had a toss up with a long time family associate, possibly about an old feud, with…”

“…Odlaw.” Sam groaned and lowered his head again. The entire room went silent around him. Sam heard Gene walking up to his desk, and he cringed instinctively but did not lift his head or move back.

“Something to share with the rest of the class, Tyler?” Gene spoke quietly and he was never more dangerous than when he went still. Sam’s survival instinct kicked in and he stood up to face the Guv, resigning himself to a slow death.

“I told you, this is children’s book. Odlaw is Waldo spelled backwards.”

Everyone took to scribbling it out, and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Yeah! What you know?” Chris bounced with delight as he got it, looking admiringly at his notebook.

Sam opened his mouth to start screaming but Phyllis walked in.

“You lot need to stop flirtin’ and start answering your phones!” She bellowed, and Gene cringed. “Tip came in, ‘bout that missing man. Someone says they saw him over at the dog show at Trifford Park.” She turned and stomped out.

“Right then, people, let’s go. Want us to drop you at the library, so you can look through the children’s books? Bring your cuddly blanket with you?” Gene glared at Sam.

“Fine. Fine! Let’s go find Wally, then, if everyone is going to insist he actually exists.”

“He exists if I say, Tyler! Now take Flash Knickers and do your damn job, preferably before I send you up the loony bin!”

Sam followed Phyllis’ example and stomped out. Annie chased after him, and he glared at her in the lift. “I’m not crazy.”

“No, but you do sound silly, sayin’ this is children’s book and all. And how did you know Odlaw’s name? That was spooky, Sam.”

“Never mind, okay? Never mind.”

“Should we be worried about this Odlaw, Sam?”

“NO.” Sam stabbed the lift button.

At the park, dogs were everywhere, a lot of them wearing red and white striped doggie shirts, which Annie adored.

“They are so cute!”

“I am being punished,” Sam said, looking around at the sea of red-and-white stripes. “God hates, me, Annie.” He stared malevolently at a Pekinese and its owner as they trotted by, bedecked in red-and-white stripes. He felt Annie slap his arm and he looked up.

“It’s him!” Annie pointed and Sam thought he saw Wally dashing behind one of the tents set up for the show. They ran after him and Annie broke away to try to cut him off from another direction as the red-and-white striped tide of dogs parted way for them. Sam leapt over carrier cages and hit the street at a flat run, wondering why they were chasing a missing man who clearly did not want to be found, other than because Gene said so. He barreled on anyway, feeling trapped into the situation, and the brief thought passed through his mind that maybe if he caught Wally, he might wake up from his coma and be free of this lunatic world of 1973. A slim hope, but it was worth something as his pace picked up and he started gaining on Wally.

His quarry dipped into a building and as Sam crashed through the doors, he realized he was in toy store. Perfect. He stopped and looked around, realizing that red-and-white stripes were obviously the fashion statement of the season, even for Barbie. Sam looked up and saw Wally standing amidst a tall stack of teddy bears wearing – what else? – red-and-white striped shirts. He groaned and reached for his warrant card.

“Wally! Police! Stop!” Sam yelled at him. The man stared at him, confused, then bolted. Cursing, Sam ran off, wondering if Annie had any clue where he was now.

Wally led him through three more stores before crashing the gates at the Albert Gardens, the only botanical garden near the city center and really more of a ‘plant mall’ for its small size. Sam nearly fell over his feet trying to stop before he destroyed a table. The entire gardens was in the middle of a flower show, with red and white flowers everywhere. Sam nearly choked in fury. He glared at the matronly woman carefully petting a beautiful rose-like bloom, but broke off at the sound a massive commotion down the path from him. He was nearly blinded by the red-and-white profusion of blooms, but he finally focused on a disastrous scene consisting of Wally, three overturned tables, a profusion of up-ended potted plants and several screaming women brandishing hand spades with sadistic authority.

Sam got to Wally and hauled him out of the Gardens. Wally stuttered but did not explain himself, and Sam did not ask. He felt inordinately pleased with finding Wally and he did not want to admit that even to himself, so he stuck to the job at hand. He used a phone box to call in to the station to give them his location, and soon the Cortina of Doom came screeching to a halt in front of them.

“Good job, Gladys! Always count on you to destroy the horticultural dreams of little old biddies.” Gene said, arms folded, staring at the mess made when Wally ran into the tables.

“He did it!”

“Because you let him run you over ‘alf the city…come on.” Gene snorted and did not wait for a reply. Wally was taken back to headquarters and brought up to CID, but not Lost and Found, because officially he was the missing person and not a suspect of any kind.

“…so, look, Odlaw threatened me, so I just took off. Didn’ think me wife would go to the cops…” Wally said nervously, drinking the tea Annie brought him.

“Why’d you run from DI Tyler?” Gene asked solicitously, sounding only mildly annoyed, while Sam snorted and guffawed and rolled his eyes behind him.

“Dunno, just…didn’ want to be found.”

“You never want to be found! That’s why you hide in huge crowds and annoy the piss out of young children!” Sam said accusingly, and everyone stared at him. Gene moved closer but Sam shoved him off as he advanced on Wally.

“What?” Wally looked at him, confused.

“You aren’t real…” Sam poked him in the chest. Alarmed, Gene grabbed his arm and held it while Sam squirmed in his grasp.

“Sure I’m real, what, you think I’m some kind of character from a book?”

“Yes.”

“What? Are you daft?”

“No, but you’re Wally…Where’s Wally?” Sam pointed at him, squinting, finally pulling free of Gene.

“Oi, fuck, you ‘eard about that? My luck a copper ‘oo likes them music festivals.”

“What?”

The man started chanting. “Where’s Wally? Where’s Wally? Where’s Wally?” He shrugged. “Drive me batty, that does, it just drives me insane. I’m just a sound guy. One poorly timed trip to the loo an’ I’m a damn cattle call.”

“I really have no idea what you are talking about.” Sam shook his head, annoyed.

“Oh? Then what you mean?”

“YOU ARE A BOOK! A BOOK! A BOOK!” Sam yelled, bouncing, pointing at him. Wally drew back in horror. “You know you are! Don’t lie! You are a character that gets lost in big crowds and tortures small children with the lure of finding you as a tiny TINY dot standing behind the soda fountain or the book shelves or…or…YOU ARE A BOOK!”

Sam lunged for him and went down under the weight of Gene Hunt.

He woke up in the locker room, with Annie sitting next to him. His head hurt and he hoped, truly deliriously prayed, that the last day and a half was just a bad dream. He asked Annie, but she confirmed that it was not a dream, and Sam groaned.

“You were running a fever, we think maybe you were jus’….sick. You seem to be better now. The Guv kinda felt bad about clocking you against the desk like that, though.”

“He did?”

“No, not really. Says you owe him a round at the pub because you are an aggravating twat.” Annie smiled. Sam smiled back a little, but shook his head.

“Where’s Wally.” He sighed, thinking that there was nothing he wanted to see less than that damn book.

“Oh, his wife and son came and picked him up. We never found Odlaw, though…”

Annie’s voice drifted off as the radio crackled in the air and Sam heard other people talking behind her.

“Heather! What is that?”

“It’s a poster. I jus’ want Sam to see something interesting if…when he wakes up. You don’ mind, Ruth?”

“No, of course not. I’ll tell the nurses to leave it up. Where did you get it? I swear I know it from somewhere…”

“Where’s Wally! Isn’t it cute? A little young for Sammy but look at all the doggies in shirts, here…”

“I don’t see Wally…”

“Oh now I’m not sayin’.”

“Oh come on, Heather, don’t be childish…”

“No! You can just find Wally yerself…and no tellin’ Sammy when you do, now, he’s got to find ‘im on his own.”

---

TECHNICAL NOTES:
Note on accuracy: I’ve made up some things; I needed a park and a botanical garden, but the ones I could find via google (such as Fletcher Moss) are too far on the outskirts of Manchester and I could not see Sam running quite that far just for the sake a cracky story like this. If you have better suggestions for locations, please let me know!

Note on research: Settings for Wally-hunting come from Where’s Waldo? The Wonder Book (1997) by Martin Handford. I looked everywhere for an original Where’s Waldo? (1987) book but could not find it, even at the library. Info on the Wally/Waldo conundrum comes from Wikipedia entry and the mindboggling Waldo Wiki, which is where you will find ref. to the music festival legend of Wally. In case you were as confused as I was, “Wally” is the original name of the original character as originally published in Britain. The marketing geniuses changed his name to “Waldo” for the U.S. version, who knows why. But there you go.