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Posted: Apr 4 2017, 11:26 AM
“Look, I just think that, Mythbusters be damned, the narrative needed for Jack to die. So, whether he could fit on that door is immaterial. The story, the fates, needed Jack to die.” Declan said, turning the wheel of the Crown Vic, heading right onto California Street. At first, Declan had balked on the motor pool assigning him the car. For one, it meant Declan needed to finally give in and get a license. But he had to admit the wisdom of it. Even if it was a good idea to mosey around the city on a bicycle, one look at the hills of San Francisco would make anyone’s thighs and calves ache.
It had taken more coaxing than he had expected to get Mads away from the antique shop. Not even the promise of breakfast reached an accord. No, Declan had to promise an entire box of Bewley’s Gold Blend, which wasn’t all that cheap to ship in. Fecking Jackeens. Though even Declan had to concede that Tetley just wasn’t the same. He took a sip of his coffee as he pulled up to the house, windows still boarded up, ‘For Sale’ sign still out on the lawn, slightly tilted. Mysterious unexplained deaths played hell with the Real Estate market.
“Right. Here we are then.” Declan shut the car off, stepping out, a hand smoothed down the front of his jacket as he headed towards the door. “All I need for you to…” he began to say before realizing that he was alone. He turned, seeing Mads still sitting in the car. Declan chuckled with a slow shake of his head and a sigh. “Redser, I swear to you that every little thing will be cracker, yeah? No need to be dog wide, boyo. This place is safe enough.”
Declan opened up the lock box that held the key, using it to gain entry through the front door. “Hullo, Rachel. I’ve brought me mucker, Mads. Sorry, Alexander Maddox. The one who can do that..thing. Like we talked about, yeah?” he winked at the woman who was pacing restlessly in the front room. Alive or dead, nobody enjoyed anxiously waiting, it would seem. “Mads, this is Rachel.” Declan gestured with a nod towards the woman.
“You’re sure he can do anything? Looks like a stiff breeze would send him onto his ass.” Rachel observed, which caused Declan to grin but not comment.
“He’s the guy.” Declan assured her with a wink. “Right, so, Rachel here is the woman I mentioned. Murdered right here in this very house. Ruled accidental, of course, but she knows better. One tends to know the difference between being banged over the head with something versus tripping and going arse over tea kettle down the stairs, yeah?” Rachel gave an affirming nod to that, her anxious gaze shifting between the two men.
“Here’s the thing, though. She has not a clue who it was, or what it were done with, but she’s damned certain it’s something here.” Declan said, gesturing to the surrounding room, still furnished as it had been the day Rachel died. Police at the time had insisted nothing be removed until the case was solved, and by the time it was ruled accidental death, nobody cared, for people were decidedly hesitant to move into a murder home. Realtors’ two least favorite words: full disclosure.
“It’s a feeling she gets, like a general sense of doom, says she. So, I figured that’s where we would start, or, specifically where you would start. Something in this house caused her demise, some object solid enough to crack her skull open, we just don’t know what. So, what say you? Care to help take the first step towards justice for our friend here?”
Posted: Apr 5 2017, 05:29 PM
"Go to the haunted house, they said. It'll be fun, they said."
Alexander would mutter to himself as he watched the familiar witch round the car he yet sat in, wander towards a house that looked like every other house on the block; not haunted. Zander new better. Frowned after the other as he moved to heckle him from the car, there were promises made and Zand wasn't above the job tasked him in this moment but that did not mean he had to enjoy it. Devoid of excitement he'd peel himself from the car and wander the front walk after a short pause to muster some courage he didn't have enough of.
Tall and lanky he'd shove his hands in the pockets of his jeans, looking little less like a boy being made to do chores as he trudged on up to the front door. He looked about as nervous as the mess in his pit of him felt, all pink-cheeked and bashful in his glancing about, everything seemed ordinary, yard hadn't been mowed and was getting tall but the rest looked no less lived in than the neighbor's house. His inner workings were a mess, everything jumbled and knotted itself in anxiety and while there was nothing inherently here to fear there were entities he liked less than most did.
A soft cringe would scrunch him as he wandered through the door and Declan addressed this one other thing; ghost.
"H- hello." His slightly drawled Welsh stammer was gentled and while he couldn't see her, a thing she controlled entirely, he could feel her. That cold that inched up your spine when you were alone in a warm room. Sea-green eyes follow Declan's own to the general location she was apparently located before his fingers shifted from a pocket to wave gently. Fanned themselves out though he yet looked like an unsure little boy, who towered beneath his messy mop of ginger hair. Declan would grin and his response, something that seemed nonchalant to the ears of Zand would shift his gaze between the other witch and the patch of nothing she housed.
His gaze would wander as Declan spoke, taking in the objects around the room, the one she died in. Right. Murder. That was why they were here, the notion paled him, caused the freckles that dotted his face to stand in stark relief. "Right. I would hope so." The two options for death given were fairly dissimilar, still he understood where Declan was going and into that he'd nod a bit and step forward into the room. Hesitant as he always was when working around things he couldn't rightly see, one wrong step and you were suddenly sliding through some patch of icy winter and who even knew what part of you was passing through what part of them. It was a terrifying mess if you asked Zand.
"Shouldn't be a problem," it was just touching things, though he sounded entirely unconvinced of his own words as they came. Fingers shift to unclasp the bracelet around his wrist, its simple woven leather tucked into his pocket leaving his powers to surge gently beneath his skin as they slid out from under the dampening magic that usually contained them and allowed him to open doors without knowing the life of the man who's done so before him.
"Do you... have any idea what it was? Size? Shape?"
His words would wander to the other witch, drifted over his shoulder as he moved gingerly into the living room, the faint chalk outline of poor Rachel had been half cleaned from the floor and half covered with a rug. A bend would half him to crouch and press his hand to the hardwood. A faint notion of presence but nothing that gave him much to work with. He'd move once more, righted and wandered to touch various furniture pieces, eyes glassy and half-lidded on a few occasions. "Was she--" he'd frown a little thinking this insensitive, before swiveling a bit, unsure at all where she was he'd address the likely wrong spot at all. "Were you--," His hand connecting with the corner of the couch in means to steady himself though the soft gape of his mouth would remain as visions lapsed over his gaze.
When he returned some seconds later it was with a snapping back of his hand and cheeks the color of roses, a soft gulp is used to steady himself as he cleared his throat gently trying his damnedest to clear the visions form his head he'd reach for remote next.
"...Married? Were you married? There's... a very frequent male presence here,"
Another clearing of his throat as his fingers switched the TV on and hit the matching numbers last used. The cable was out so he'd receive nothing but static and the little bar at its bottom edge marking it as some such sports channel. Maybe she was just a sports fan?
Posted: Apr 5 2017, 06:43 PM
Declan enjoyed watching Mads do his work. He really enjoyed watching anyone with powers not his own use them, for it just illustrated what a wide, amazing world they lived in, and had the added bonus of making him feel less alone, less like the odd man out. With the question posed, he looked to Rachel, his brows lifted inquisitively. Declan really wasn’t sure. On the one hand, it would be easier for all involved for Rachel to simply make herself heard. Maybe not seen, for he was nearly certain that would have Mads’ knees knocking, but would her voice cause him distress as well? They could always pretend she was just talking to them over a speaker phone. “Go ahead and tell him, yeah? It’s alright.” Rachel looked uncertain, though offered a quick, curt nod.
“It was big enough, or at least heavy enough to break my neck when my head snapped forward.” She said, herself looking around the room, as she had for months now, searching. She had her theories, of course, but they were just that. She wanted proof. She wanted answers.
“Doesn’t take as much as you think to do that. You’d be surprised. Right.” Declan said with a nod. “So…” his gaze, as with the other two, began a serious sweep. As she and Mads conversed, he headed down the small hallway towards the kitchen. Kitchenware was always high on the list of potential impromptu murder weapons. Aside from the fireplace, where else would you find a solid piece of heavy cast iron and think little of it? He was running his hand along one of the counters when the next thing Mads asked gave him pause, and caused him to lean out enough to look back into the living room, his brows lifted once more, this time in curiosity, and possibly some annoyance. It did nobody any good to hold out details, and he was fairly certain that Mads’ abilities did not lie. “Stop the lights! That’s a fair brilliant question, in’t it? Care to answer, Rachel? And maybe this time leave off the cheek and come clean? We’re here to help, yeah? Enough foostering about.”
For her part, Rachel did look as shameful as a spirit could, her hands clutched and wrung together before her, her gaze cast at the floor. That alone gave Declan the only answer he needed, but he eagerly awaited her own words, his gaze held to hers, his eyes cast as a father would look to a child whom was known to be the guilty party. “I…” she began, quietly. “…not married, no. Just…it wasn’t Ted. Couldn’t be. He’s too…”
Declan cut her off a little more impatiently than he may have wished to, so caught himself quickly enough. “And here I…” he sighed softly, then continued. “That’s for us to decide, yeah? I’m sure you’re probably right. But did it ever dawn on you that Ted might know something that you don’t, thus we don’t? I'll be needing his full name, yeah? Please." Declan didn’t believe that for a minute. He was 90% certain that Ted was their man, but no need to upset Rachel more than necessary. An upset spirit could make a mess of things if their mind was set upon it. But it fit. The place wiped clean, not a fingerprint to be found, not even Rachel’s. So, it was either a professional, or a panic stricken amateur who didn’t wish to be caught. And it was also odd that Ted had not filed a report, called in, anything. He had discovered Rachel quite by accident, when he had come to the house two doors down for a routine follow-up. She had been standing in her yard, weeping, so of course Declan would make contact with her. While he had the feeling that Rachel had her suspicions as well, not just based upon the fact that he felt genuine fear from her now, he wouldn’t press it; not yet.
He was now doubly determined to find the murder weapon, for when and if they found Ted, all Declan would have to do is walk into the terry room, drop the item on the table, and watch the emotions roll out like storm clouds. Back into the kitchen he went while she spoke, his gaze quickly roaming over the counters, pulling open the cabinets to peer within. “Go on, then.” He prompted.
“Ted and I weren’t married. We would have been, eventually, I guess. We met online, and…well…” she trailed off a little, causing Declan to loudly clear his throat from the next room, causing her to continue, almost irritated. “It’s hard for someone to find a job in this market. It wasn’t for lack of looking, he just…he isn’t the kind of man to settle on just anything. He was holding out for the right position. That’s all.” She went quiet again, though Declan had enough to think about right now. She had volunteered way more information than had been asked, which always raised his suspicions, but he would rather let it fold out on its own, and he really wanted the weapon. As if simply glad to have people to talk to, Rachel continued, unprompted. “It was just so good to have a man around the house. He was so good at fixing things, anything. He was always tinkering, fixing loose boards. He said hammering was therapeutic.” Rachel finished with a soft, fond laugh.
“Well, bet that was handy. A man who is good with tools is good to have about, yeah?” Speaking of tools, Declan adjusted his search to the small vestibule through the back door. He canted his head to the side, not touching, just looking. There was a small tool box near the door, a few tools hung on nails above it. “Mads, come have a dekko at this.” He called, awaiting his friend to join him.
“What? What did you find? Is it a clue?” asked Rachel, following behind.
“Maybe.” Declan affirmed with a nod. “Mads, anything look off about this?” he asked, glancing to the man, then back down. “For a hammer that sees a fair bit of use, wouldn’t you say that one is awfully shiny?”
Posted: Apr 8 2017, 10:27 PM
This clue seemed to catch her off guard, her voice (it was safe to say this put him on edge, though it was also safe to say that her appearing and wandering about would have melted him through the floor boards) stuttering in its ghostly cadence there in his mind's eye. It at least gave him an area to direct his attention when she started pacing and the feel of her magic wafted about and stirred all his senses and raised the hair at the back of his neck. While he wasn't thrilled at the concept of being left alone with her, he was also well aware she couldn't really hurt him at least not here, not in a house devoid of heavy things to tip over and see him crushed and her books looked to all be paperback, so even if hurled--
She was sure, Rachel, that this wasn't Ted's doing. Stammered this out with a passionate lilt and while she might be right, Zander was fairly sure there was a statistic about murder and spouses knocking about that proved her wrong.
Alexander would continue, hesitantly touching things after turning off the television, though nothing spoke to him as readily and the couch had. Books and small objects giving him little but blips about a woman he was talking to but hadn't had any real concept of before entering the house. Pieced together her face as he went, little bits of it that reflected in every shiny surface she'd painstakingly placed on shelves, pictures on the wall. A few of family though more art than things that pointed to children or loved ones. A fairly solitary life, one that pointed them readily to the fact she offered of Ted, they'd met online.
Largely he'd listen as he went, nothing striking him as off, a heavy pause would stop him before the fireplace. While he wasn't too keen on touching anything that could have been used to rut against (not again anyway, internal cringe here), he was equally hesitant to find the actual item. Was he prepared for it? To watch a murder was no small frivolous thing and while it would help the woman, it was also something that would likely haunt him for days. His hand would reach, fingers shaking a bit as he moved to touch the heavy iron fireplace tools settled beside a fireplace that looked like it was rarely if ever used.
He'd almost get there when Declan's voice called his name. Their voices having long since faded to the background of everything, it came as shock and jumped him quite suddenly. Yanking his hand back he'd move, carefully, through the living room as not to walk through Rachel along his way to meet back up with his coven mate. The kitchen was cleaner than the living room and it'd raise the hair at the back of his neck. Odd. Slipping through the stand beside Declan his eyes would drift to the box of tools. A soft frown is offered as his hand reaches out to grasp hold of the object in question.
His fingers would tremble a bit once more though he'd make it this time, wrapping around the handle of the hammer though he'd not hoist it before the vision snapped into focus. Eyes glassy he'd watch the movie that flickered before him, like seeing through the eyes of a killer. The flicker of his gaze would shiver a bit before the hammer was picked up and he recanted what he was seeing. "I'm-- they're, in the living room. Rachel's standing... cleaning? Fussing with things on the bookshelf. I-- they're behind her. We-- they're chatting about.. wall paper? Paint. For the bathroom. He's very insistent on not caring... she wants blue... periwinkle blue. He doesn't care..," Zand's eyes widen, his movement is automatic and uncontrolled by himself, arm raising in some swoosh that would pose him in a very murderous moment.
A breath would whoosh from his lungs as the hammer was lowered and his focus snapped back.
"He didn't. At least not with this... but he... well, he clearly wanted to."
Alexander would frown at Declan, he couldn't be sure who this he was, having only a voice to go off of. The soft presence of the ghost near their location would shift his attention to where he assumed she was. "For the record, I think periwinkle is a lovely shade of blue for a bathroom," stated matter-O-factually, his tone soft and quiet, nod even more so as he shifted a bit and dropped the hammer back into the box.
"Going to take a look around the kitchen... it's... unsettling," he sounded unsure of this description as he flattened himself against the doorway to slide by where he assumed Rachel was standing. Moved himself to the kitchen where that sinking feeling returned. There wasn't anything all that heavy looking on the counters, not that could be wielded with any sort of precision or grace. His hands are careful as he opens drawers, catching little glimpses of the woman once more, and her activity within her own house. Nothing would latch on readily though and he'd continue as he was. "You loved baking~," his tone is casual and conversational as he shifts about. A pause as he grasps hold of a cast iron pan. "And Ted liked cooking," again soft as he continued.
They seemed a cute little match in his vision but that didn't mean--
His hand would reach to the back of a cupboard and in that moment he'd lose himself.
The next moment he'd find himself teetered over from his crouch, sitting on the floor with a small, heavy old metal muffin baking tin sat between his knees with a soft clatter and a frown on his face. Eyes wide his vision would flicker up to the odd wavering form of a woman stood not far from him looking pensive and worried.
"I'm so sorry,"
Killed by the thing she loved... possibly both of them.
Posted: Apr 10 2017, 03:16 PM
“Damn it all.” Declan muttered through his exhaled sigh. He had pinned a fair amount of hope on the hammer. It was classic, easy, readily available, but no. And again, he was certain that the things Mads saw would not, or possibly could not lie. It never crossed his mind that Mads could technically spin his own yarn. He didn’t seem the type, and besides, what would be the reason? No, he would simply have to accept that the hammer was a swing and a miss. He held on to a slight bit of hope with the ‘wanted to’ part. That had him looking to Rachel with renewed interest, keeping any accusation out of his gaze. ‘Told you so’ never did anyone any good. And even though Mads could not see Ted, Declan was still sure. Well, as sure as he had been about the hammer. But, still.
“He did care.” Rachel said softly, almost apologetically, looking down at her feet. “He just didn’t want anyone to know it.” Her gaze lifted to Declan, imploringly. “He isn’t a bad person. Nobody knew him like I did. When it was just the two of us, on those quiet nights, it was different. He was…” her voice trailed off, she reached up to wipe at one eye, as if wishing her tear ducts still functioned. “…he was different.”
Declan nodded gently. “Of course.” He said, without sarcasm. This was a story he had heard before from a myriad of sources, as a patrolman, as a private investigator, as a member of the human race. Behind closed doors, they were always different. Sweet, gentle, kind. It was never their fault that tempers were lost. Stress at work, stress at home, stress from life. Not their fault. Bollocks to it all, of course, though Declan did not state as such. It would do no good. He only prayed that Mads found something. He didn’t wish to leave this house, he didn’t wish to round up Ted without something solid to toss his way. Neither Rachel’s words nor Mads’ visions would mean a hill of beans in a court, but it was a start. As long as Ted thought it would, Ted’s own words would form the hangman’s noose.
The two of them watched Mads mill about the kitchen, Rachel thinking who knew what, Declan already formulating Plan B and C when his gaze riveted on his coven mate. He had found something. Janey Mack, he had found something. He looked to Rachel, who’s gaze had gone wide.
“What is it? What do you see?” she asked for the two of them, Declan’s neck craning a bit to see what it was Mads had a hold of.
“Ara be whist, a fecking muffin pan?” Declan said in a tone that could be described as incredulous, mouth slightly agape. Now there was a new one. From where he stood, he could already see that the pan had been wiped clean, not a spot on it, much less a fingerprint. He’d find no blood splatter, though he would still have it brought down to the lab. DNA could always pop up where you least expected it, though it could easily be argued that of course it has her prints, or his, since it was theirs, and they used it.
“It wasn’t him. Wasn’t him. Wasn’t him. Not my Ted.” Rachel sobbed into her uplifted hands, her shoulders bouncing. Shite ridden chancer, that Ted. Even in death, she still loved him. Maybe it was indeed a crime of passion. Maybe Ted hadn’t meant to do it. Declan had heard and seen it all. But those were facts to be sorted out later. Right now, Declan wanted to at least shine the spotlight of justice towards the whole thing, if only to give Rachel some peace, much less himself. But, of course, for that to happen, they would have to find Ted, and they would have to break Ted. Declan still found it a bit odd that the man hadn’t come forward, though could anyone blame him? He had killed someone, even accidentally or in the heat of the moment, whichever, but it was his own head that would be put on the block either way. He waited for the emotions to subside a bit, this time studying Mads. Declan didn’t know much about how his visions worked, but he could rightly assume that watching a murder as if you were there, or even involved would have its effects.
“Alright there?” he quietly asked the man. “You look a bit knackered. Need a sit down?” Declan reached to slide one of the kitchen chairs from the table towards them. When it seemed that everyone had mostly collected themselves, though Rachel appeared far from content, he gently cleared his throat.
“Where would we find him?” Declan asked, eyes shifted from the offending bakeware towards its former owner and victim. “Did he still have his own place? Where would that be. We at least need to talk to him, Rachel. If it weren’t him, as you say, he may yet know something. Might point us in the right direction. You know this. At least give us a last name, please. We’ll make this right.” Despite his personal beliefs and instinct, Declan didn’t feel like he was lying. It was true that it might not have been Ted. Mads hadn’t seen that. But, what sort of bog trotter would slip into someone’s kitchen and murder them with their own pan? A neighbor who had sought that proverbial cup of sugar and been denied once too often? Not fair likely, though nothing surprised Declan any longer. No, he was 99.9% set on Ted. Statistics as well as current facts had his back.
“Dublin.” Sarah said, her voice wavering. She looked between one and the other. “That’s where his house is. He was going to move out, move in with me full time, but…” she trailed off.
Declan was fishing out a plastic grocery bag from within the pantry with which he would transport the muffin pan, at least until he could get it into a proper evidence bag. He wasn’t too worried about contaminating it, since it looked as clean as the day it popped out of whatever machine had pressed it into being. “Dublin. Right then.” He said, not sure how to feel about that. Leave it to a Dublin man. “His name?”
“Rainey. Ted Rainey.” Rachel said, her voice nearly angry as if she had been questioned beneath the lights of the third degree, though he could not tell where the anger was directed, at Ted, her potential murderer? Or the men who would bring the man she loved to justice.
“Well, then, I believe our business here be done and done. We’ll be takin the leave now, but I’ll keep you posted, yeah? Don’t worry, Rachel. We’ll have a proper answer soon enough. I’m good for it.” Declan said as he secured the muffin pan, feeling their welcome was just this side of being worn out. He looked to Mads with a nod. “Right, Redser, let’s be off, yeah?” He then headed towards the door, seeing himself out, one glance back down the hallway towards where Rachel stood, again looking down towards her feet. Declan sighed softly as he headed towards the car.
“Breaks the heart. Nice gentle bird like that cut down in her prime, and over what?” Declan shook his head. While it did get easier with time dealing with murder victims and death in general, it never ceased to amaze Declan just how far people would go for the most trifling of issues. Clearly, they, as a collective race, still had a ways to go. “Bang on work, couldn’t have done it without you back there. I owe you big. Now, care to ride along with me to look up our friend the muffin man? Or did you need to get back to the shop. It’s been quiet since me partner retired, I’m glad for the company, but I understand. You’re not a cop, so’s you’re not obligated to come along. Up to you.”
Posted: Apr 12 2017, 04:30 PM
As he sat there on the kitchen floor, his mind some dazed thing that flashed repeated images he'd rather not recall before his vision, he'd catch the ghost's quieted mantra over this Ted guy. It wasn't him. It very well could have not been for all Alexander knew, he'd gotten no clear view of the face of the attacker and while the angle and height appeared to be masculine in origin and strength he'd make no assumptions over faces. "Y-- yeah. I'm alright." His words were soft and stuttered, unsure of themselves even as he shifted to pick himself up off the floor on limbs that felt like half cooked spaghetti. He'd do everything in his power to avoid touching the pan once more, which had his shift to stand looking a bit like playing twister... or perhaps that his limbs were actually that half-cooked spaghetti they felt. Standing he'd lean against the counter a moment trying to find the room to breathe in a manner that wasn't stalled and wavering.
"I need some air, yeah?"
Heart still hammering he'd excuse himself to wander a bit, sliding by Rachel just as carefully as he had since the beginning, leaving them to talk softly as he paused in the dining room. Needed the air as much as the view of the living room. Studied it a bit before wandering back into the room where it'd all happened. Alone he'd move to where the vision had placed him before and in that his eyes wandered. A frown would move him from the spot and back to the entryway of the kitchen as Declan picked up the pan and finished his conversation with the woman who'd been wronged.
Fishing the bracelet from his pocket he'd slap it back onto his wrist, its tie tied with the help of his teeth before it settled and the soft wave of dampening began to seep back over him like a warm blanket draped over his shoulders. Soothed him where it probably shouldn't have, the fear of his touching things eased back along with it. Declan would promise to keep in touch before his attention turned to Zander again, a soft nod wavering from the ginger as he indicated he was ready. Sea green eyes turning briefly to Rachel as he followed Declan towards the door. "It was... uh, nice to meet you. And-- well, ya know... Sorry about all this," his smile was weak and faltered quickly as his cheeks tinged with ruddy. His gaze was no better as it fell swiftly to her feet before he spun on spot and rushed after the other witch like some bashful boy made to apologize to the girl he'd thrown dirt at.
He didn't not like her, she just... also made him entirely uneasy.
It's mumbled from the ginger as they wandered back towards the car, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, thoughtful as they climbed into the vehicle. The door shut behind him and his hand reaching for the seat belt, he'd pause a moment before it could find its click with its other half. Gaze wide-eyed and wandering a moment. "Thanks," the inflection was awkward, almost a question though he wasn't sure why he'd question this at all. Just seemed odd to receive praise over something he did on a daily basis. Declan's next words would widen his gaze further as seat belt was finally clicked into place. Lungs deflating a bit he'd wander the other witch's face. He had no good excuse to get out of it and while part of him was curious another part, the one that didn't deal in murder mysteries on a daily basis... well, wasn't.
"Uhhh... sure? I mean I can tag along. I don't know how helpful I'll be but, I can... stand there, I guess."
His voice sounded like the verbal representation of an unsure shrug. He had nothing else to do and really, there was some small piece of himself that wondered at the outcome of all of this. Might as well sate his curiosity, however dim it was.
"I didn't see who it was," he'd begin in a mumble as he watched the house fade in the distance behind them. "But by the height and velocity it had to be a man... or a very tall supernatural woman, Well... no. I did see his fingers and it was most definitely not a woman. I looked around the living room and there weren't any reflective surfaces at the right angle to possibly pull a face from."
He'd ponder with a frown for a long moment as the pair slid through traffic, quiet and thoughtful as fingers tapped lightly against his lips.
"A muffin pan seems a really shite way to go out though, poor woman,"
Mumbled as he propped his elbow on the windowsill of the car door and his cheek into a palm. "Do you get a lot of weird things like this?" he couldn't imagine so but then... they did on the television, so who really knew.
Posted: Apr 14 2017, 12:24 PM
Declan did feel bad, though felt it was still necessary. Just as he did not wish to approach Ted without the weapon as a leg to stand upon, he knew that Rachel would not have incriminated her man without lights shone on the right spots, and he could not have done that without Mads. So, again, while he felt bad that his friend was a bit weirded out at the moment, he still felt good about the whole thing in general. He also noted the uncertainty of the man, as far as why he might be useful on this next part.
“Actually, me mucker, you’d be of a bit more use than you’d think. Ted’s gonna know me for a cop, and if he is the guilty party we think he is, and let’s face it, pretty fair sure we both share that particular page, whether you saw him or not, his noggin’ll be too wired up figuring out how to get away than to wonder who you might be, and that’s the handy part. We come at him with what killed her, he sees me badge, and there’s you, he’ll just assume you’re someone, yeah? Someone who knows. Someone who can help nail the coffin shut. So, just you standing there will be a boon to all of this. Play whatever part you wish.” As the car came to a stop light, Declan pulled out his phone, bringing up Google Maps, using his thumb to request directions to Dublin, making sure to select the ‘CA’ option, otherwise they would be given a long, strange trip indeed. Once Siri, or was it Alexa, or whoever gave the first bit of vocal directions, he brought up the phone keypad, dialing in the number, the phone then tucked in his earpiece as the light turned green, the car rolled forward.
“Yeah, Evie, I need a current addy on Ted Rainey. Try Theodore or Edward too. If there’s anything else in the database on known affiliates or what have you, give me that too.” Declan paused a moment, listening to the other end. “No idea if he’s in the system, no. But if he has a temper like I’m thinking, he should have a prior domestic or two…what? No, Rainey. R-a-i-n-e-y. Not that…yeah. A director, in’t he? Oh, right, his brother. Sam. Spiderman. Right.” Declan chuckled, glancing down at the screen to make sure he’s on the right route. Declan paused a bit more, listening, then nodded as he thumbed in the given address. “Got it, thanks.” Declan hit disconnect then sat the phone on his lap, exhaling a long sigh.
“It’s him right enough.” He said, glancing aside to Mads. “Four priors for domestic battery, and lead suspect in a case gone cold. Care to take a guess what the case is about?” he asked, mostly rhetorically, his fingers tightened on the wheel, the knuckles nearly white, then relaxed. “Yeah. Another murdered woman. Chalked up eventually to a break-in gone bad. The lead liked him for it, but, no proof, no evidence, nothing.” He shook his head as he glanced down to his screen, the car shifted into the far lane to make a left. “Bastard’s done it before. Maybe that’s why he went silent on this one. Even a complete eedjit knows a pattern can be spotted.”
Declan rode in silence for a few moments, watching but not watching the city rolling by outside of the window, focused on the route. “I wish that answer was no. I wish it were all cut and dry, simple, yeah? Someone gets all narky over a football score or burnt toast and decides to kill someone else over it, then gets locked up. But no, it’s always weird. Course, I reckon that could be because your average cop don’t get to question the victim in those cases. Maybe for them, it’s just another unanswered question or three. But me?” He hmmphed a single chuckle through his nose. “It’s all weird, cos there will always be details that you could never guess. Guy kills another guy because they both like the same girl. See that all the time, yeah? But the part that doesn’t get told was that it turns out the one guy was sweet on the other guy, and couldn’t stand the idea of the guy being with a girl rather than him. Life’s never simple. Wouldn’t make a bad show, though, would it.” That thought made Declan smile slightly. He tends to not consider his life weird, being so used to it, but also tends to forget that to an outsider, it’s weird as fuck-all. “But if it’s any consolation, I think it has to be weird to see things that happened to things you’re touching. Amazing and damn handy talent, but it’s gotta be unsettling at the very least.” Declan offered Mads a wink as he again looked down to his phone screen. He’d never been to Dublin before, at least not this one.
He found himself hoping that it was like Chinatown, which Declan liked very much, and built a bit to look like its namesake. Such, however, was not the case. Dublin appeared to be like any decent-money California suburb, a bit of art-deco, the old style ‘city of the future’ look, nice houses built on lots that were too small, and of course resorts and the like. He began to form a picture of Ted based upon this. It took money to live here, and from what he already knew and suspected about Ted, he had a decent idea of where the money came from. Declan began to truly have the inkling that the list of potential victims went a bit deeper than two.
The Crown Victoria pulled to a stop a few houses away from their destination, Declan shut the engine off and slid the key into his pocket as he felt in his jacket for the gun he knew was tucked within the shoulder harness, but liked the reassurance. Corner a predator like Ted seemed to be shaping up into, and you never knew what to expect, though it was a safe bet the quiet option would never be selected. Lastly, he reached down to pick up the bagged muffin pan, gave Mads a reassuring wink and nod, then headed up the well-groomed sidewalk towards the house that was listed as Ted’s current address. What he saw, though, had him glancing to Mads with a bit of concern. Should he mention it? Perhaps he should. Bad news was still better than a bad surprise.
“Not to alarm you, Redser, but we’re not alone.” He said quietly, nearly under his breath, his direct gaze avoiding the lingering spirit. Curious, of course, as to why he was just hanging about the house, and this particular house at that, but Declan had seen stranger things. “So far so good, just a spectator at the moment.” He assured the other witch quietly without making too much eye contact with the specter. Let the spirit assume he was unseen at the moment, until Declan could put the ducks in a row. He stepped up to the door, his fist lifted to rap his knuckles upon the dark wooden surface. “San Francisco PD, Mr. Rainey. Just a few questions, please.” Declan called loudly enough to be heard, keeping his ears tuned on any ambient noise that might make its way from inside. Declan was fully prepared to bring the full weight of justice onto this bloody chancer.
Imagine his surprise when the door was answered by one of the more pleasant women Declan had come across today. The picture of suburban housewife-ness, down to the apron around her waist. “Oh, please come in, gentlemen. What can I do for you? Lemonade?”
Declan’s brows lifted slightly as he showed his badge, tucking it away upon his belt once more. It seemed so cliché that it seemed too cliché. “Is this, uh, the residence of Ted Rainey?” He asked as he glanced to the numbers upon the bricks beside the door. Right address, at least according to their data. “And is he home? Oh, excuse me.” Declan said before she could answer, pulling out his phone. “Message from the captain. Won’t be a tick.” He quickly sent a text to Mads: ‘Have a feel around when we get inside. Something’s not right’. He slid his phone back into his pocket, his gaze again lifted back to the woman with a smile. “No lemonade, thanks. But yes, we would love to come in.”
The two men were ushered through the foyer to the front sitting room, Declan’s gaze sweeping. The house seemed immaculate, well decorated, and cozy. It almost seemed like one of those display homes that Realtors set up to show people what it would look like furnished. “Now, Mrs…?”
“Rainey.” She filled in with a polite smile. “Sylvia Rainey. Ted is my husband.”
“I see. And, how long have you…” Declan began to ask.
“Oh, it’s been ten years now. Ten wonderful years.” She said with a tone of adoration.
Declan simply did not know what to think. Was she really married to this man, and had no idea about his extra-curricular activities? Was she in on it? He had so many questions, he didn’t know where to start. He glanced over towards Mads, hoping beyond hope that he would find something to tie this altogether, though things didn’t always wrap up quite so neatly, not to mention that the gravity of the fact that he had lugged a civilian along on what was turning into something that smelled complicated began to descend upon him.
Declan patted himself, looking a little puzzled. “Oh, sorry, I left me notes in the car. Would you excuse us, please?” he asked, already lifting to his feet, making his way towards the door. “Sorry about this, I’ll be right back.”
Once they left the house, seeing through the corner of his eye that the spirit still lingered, Declan headed to the car, not risking a glance back to the house, for that did tend to look suspicious. “Get anything?” he asked the man beside him quietly. “No idea what this is, but I don’t think I care for it."
Posted: Apr 15 2017, 08:57 PM
Alexander wasn't sure what to make of Declan's theory, he supposed it made sense and the rational part of his mind did agree but the part of him that shuddered at the thought of ghosts was quick to disagree and rather adamantly. he could be of help and he knew how but he'd rather not-- his thoughts would spiral a bit as he dug through them, half listening to Declan as he spoke to someone at the precinct to get an address and any other information on the man they were headed to see. Sea-green eyes wandering the city as it slid by, his cheek propped into a palm he'd ponder over this whole thing until he was addressed again and his attention slid sideways to the man driving. His frown is deep and quick to plaster itself there on his face. "Seems like a real stand-up guy," even so, Zand would ponder over it. It seemed the obvious choice and while that was often the right one it was also possible that it wasn't, at all.
"I'm actually surprised they don't hire more witches, even as just contacts." A thoughtful note as he listened to his coven-mate speak over his own time in the force. They seemed like a handy thing to have around, especially a witch that could literally talk to the victims, if they were lingering about anyway. "Humanity and its passions are a tricky lot," murmured softly before the whole of his mouth spread wide into an amused grin. "It would. Could you even imagine though? The cop who talks to dead people and his unaffiliated sidekick who has visions. Should probably cash in on that before M. Night does. The plot twist? The sidekick is probably dead the whole time." A soft chuckle as fingers tap lightly against his lower lip, a thoughtful motion that hummed him lightly. "You don't even know the half of it. Every public door handle is a nightmare and a nosebleed waiting to happen," for however serious he was he sounded none too bothered over this fact. "Less so now that it's all dampened... but childhood was a right fun time,"
Thankfully the cutting off of his powers was helpful, tossing that wet blanket over them to stifle them softly made his life a little easier. Not the easiest still, the stronger things still snuck in and drowned him on occasion but the whole of it was better.
As the car parked along the sidewalk Zand would note the odd pristine look of this place, that there wasn't a minivan in the driveway was the only lacking feature of it all. These cookie cutter lives always set him at unease, it was of no real reason beyond their depiction on television but how many of these places were riddled with drug dealers and housewives gone mutinous?! Alexander would guess most of them. Shadows were pretty easy to hide behind white picket fences.
Climbing out of the car he'd shift himself to the sidewalk before falling into line beside Declan who turned almost imeediately with good news.
God dammit, Ted!
Immediately his face would fall and his cheeks would flush an flustered shade of pink, not yet anything to be associated with anything but unease as they wandered down the sidewalk. Ghosts, why?! Just watching for now and Zand couldn't be sure if he was comforted or unsettled by this note as they hopped up the steps of the beautiful house. Standing behind Declan's shoulder and back a step he'd hover as a knock is given and a call to announce their presence follows.
The man he assumed to answer the door... well, didn't.
Zander's poker face left a lot to be desired as he stared wide-eyed and wondering at the woman who answered the door in an apron and a smile. Sweeping them in with offering of lemonade and the ginger had no idea how to even process this sight or the offer really. His confusion was shared though a moment later and Declan was excusing himself from the scene to answer a message, leaning Zander to founder a bit. He'd fidget with the bracelet on his wrist, making the decision then that saw it untied and slipped silently into his pocket. The little smile he offers is awkward at the very best and as tense and lacking as you'd expect. Relief would wash over him as Declan returned momentarily and they slid inside. She seemed disappointed about the lemonade and in that Zander would offer her a soft smile, more convincing this go around. "Lemonade would be lovely, thank you." A helpless shrug is offered to the cop beside him, who were they to shirk her hospitality?
He was careful not to touch anything though the soft press of the woman against his arm would come as a immediate shock that frowned him as she wandered by to swiftly grab pitcher and glasses. Well, so much for not getting involved. His eyes wandered the room they were ushered into before she returned with what looked like a movie set offering of lemon liquid. Glass set before him he'd smile though he'd not get all the way to his mouth before she quipped politely she was Mrs. Ted Rainey of ten years. His stomach suddenly soured and gaze flickered to Declan who looked as confused as he assumed he did.
Gaze wandering the room he'd set the glass down before Declan announced he'd left his note pad behind. Standing the over polite Alexander would offer her another smile, uneasy as it was it was at least semi-warm. "You're home is lovely," the pressure behind his eyes was building and as they swept outside he released the breath he'd been holding for some time. "I... I don't know? Maybe?" Fingers wringing gently around his bare wrist, a nervous tick, he'd wander along beside the other witch. "She... well, I took my bracelet off and she touched me," he sounded a bit strung up over this fact before he tapped his temple. "Telepathy. Anyway, she was... really quiet, right up to the point that she mentioned ten years." A hard swallow as he paused beside the car while Declan was left to needfully dig around for what they'd come out here for. "She mentioned something about a Greg and it seemed... irritated. I'll--" a soft sigh-- "touch some stuff when we go back in,"
It wasn't much to go on and he seemed entirely unexcited about this prospect but it was for a good cause at least.
With a soft nod the pair would wander back, note pad in hand and ready to talk. The door left cracked open, another knock would see them ushered towards the kitchen where she was apparently in the middle of something and couldn't be bothered. Zander's tone is soft and murmured. "I'll meet you in a sec'," his attention turned to a hook holding coats beside the door as he swept the other witch off to make an excuse for his missing partner.
His time away is short before he slides into the kitchen looking a bit paler than usual, if at all possible. Phone in hand he'd hit send as just as he brushed up into the already roiling conversation. "Sorry about that," settling in beside Declan on the opposite side of the kitchen island from the woman who'd motion him towards his moved lemonade he'd offer her a soft tense smile in thanks. The chime of Declan's phone would interrupt the talk, a contrite expression offered to the woman.
"Busy day today,"
'There are 2 of them. There are 2 Teds. Twins? Brothers?'
Posted: Apr 18 2017, 02:14 PM
Declan looked at Mads for a moment, curiously. It’s not like the two of them had ever sat down and played ‘show me yours, I’ll show you mine’, though the two had a general understanding of what the other could do. He hadn’t considered the fact that the object being read could be a person, but it made perfect sense. Well. Wasn’t that a useful tidbit, and one he took seriously as his friend spoke of what he saw when the contact had been made. Declan looked apologetic as Mads declared his intent to get all touchy feely once they were back inside, though he truly didn’t wish to follow his instinct and tell the man not to worry about it. They had uncovered more with the few brief touches than Declan could ever have gotten from straight up interrogation. People lie. Things like this power did not.
“Right.” He said with a nod as the two headed back towards the house, Declan’s note pad in hand. “Careful, though, yeah? I can’t imagine what it does to you in there. Don’t overdo it and shake yourself. Things could get banjaxed quick, and I don’t want you to be catatonic if there should be fireworks.” Not that he immediately suspected she would go nuts and get all stabby like a psychotic Betty Crocker, but at the moment he simply had no idea of what to expect. This had already gotten much weirder than he would have anticipated, but weren’t that always the way. He got a sinking feeling that the whole thing was about to go total neds on them.
As they entered the house once more, Declan gave Mads a quick signal that he understood, he would make up some excuse for the stalled return of the other. “Sorry ‘bout that.” Declan said with a chuckle, waving the note pad. “I swear, some days if it isn’t attached…” He shrugged apologetically before taking a seat at the kitchen island, thumbing over his shoulder. “He’ll be here in a moment, had to find the bog. Uh, toilet, sorry. Wash his hands. He’s fine. Housebroken and everything.” Declan offered with a smile as he then removed a pen, the fetched notepad held in the other hand.
“So, Mrs. Rainey. Ten years with Mr. Rainey, you said. If you don’t mind my asking, what does he do? This is a lovely home.” Declan glanced around at the immaculate kitchen, a far cry from the facilities at Rachel’s house. At the moment, his biggest concern was whether she was aware of her husband’s modus operandi, not to mention the fact that his marriage was not within the records, though he didn’t wish to jump straight into the pool right away and ask her direct. He also found it curious that as of yet, he had not heard the words ‘what is this about?’. More and more questions plopped themselves before him.
“Ted is in IT.” She said with a smile and a hint of pride. “He has several clients, a few of them are big companies. When something goes wrong with their networks or anything related, Ted goes and fixes it. He’s so good with things like that.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard he’s a handy one.” Declan said, scribbling a few things down. So, not only was he handy with tools and such, he was also handy with electronics. “Must be a smart one.” He added with another smile.
“Oh, the smartest. He married me, didn’t he?” she said with a laugh, to which Declan responded in kind, politely at least. “Ted keeps these places going. So much would go wrong if not for him.”
“Clearly you’re very proud.” Declan said as he scribbled down a few more notes, just for the act of doing so, since nothing really had been given that was important yet. “So, he doesn’t have an office, then? He works from home, and goes out on calls as needed? Is he gone for long periods of time at all? I’m sure that’s difficult.”
“Yes, he has his own system here, which can remotely view those he works on. I don’t understand most of it, but there are plenty of times where he has to actually visit the locations. And plenty of times he just checks into a hotel rather than drive all the way back home if he has to be there in the morning.”
Declan was beginning to at least put together a picture of how Ted was able to maintain relationships with other women, but he was still no closer to being certain that it all went behind Mrs. Rainey’s back. She could just as easily be lying to him to protect her husband. Wouldn’t that fit. Ted must be one right charming ape. Mads made his return, and Declan tried to discern what he could by the look on the man’s face, though that proved slightly difficult. He could just as easily be terrified by what he saw, as excited about a breakthrough, or possibly both. His phone buzzed an alert, which had his breath held in anticipation. What new turn in the road would show itself now? As Mrs. Rainey continued to talk about Ted and his job, Declan slid his phone out casually, reading the preview on the lock screen, staring at it for a moment before glancing to Mads, back to the phone, which was slid back into his pocket, then back to Mrs. Rainey, though his thoughts were puzzling things out nearly too much to hear her. “What was that?” he asked, looking to the woman.
“I said Ted likes to joke that there would have to be two of him to do everything he wants.” She said with another light spat of laughter as she took a sip of her lemonade. He had the brief thought that they were being played. Maybe she was reading them like a book, and just toying with them now. It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?
“Does, uh, does Ted have a brother? Any family in town?” Declan asked, flipping the page on his notepad, looking expectantly to Mrs. Rainey. He read her nervousness easily enough, she was talking to the cops. That would also explain the irritation. Her sanctum was being invaded. But why the fear? She had little to fear from Declan, though she couldn’t know that, he supposed. But the fear had come out big when he asked about a brother. He looked again to Mads, waiting for Mrs. Rainey’s answer, his gaze shifted back to her when she spoke up, which had taken more time than it should have, another curiosity.
“He is an only child.” She said after a second or two. “Well, he had a sister who died in her infancy. But his parents didn’t have any more after that.” She took another long swallow of her lemonade, looking reflective for a moment, Declan watching her with a slight furrow to his brow. “Is Ted in some kind of trouble?” she finally asked. “He doesn’t talk to me about much. He says he doesn’t like to burden me with petty work issues.”
“Oh, we just need to ask him some questions about a woman he may be connected to. His name came up, I am just following the lead. He might have some information that would be of great help.” Declan didn’t feel guilty about that, for those statements were all true. If she could read minds, which the jury was still out on, she already knew anyway. He knew two things currently: there were somehow two Teds, for he didn’t doubt a second what Mads had seen, though later he would want a bit of an explanation, and Mrs. Rainey was not telling him something. He was dead sure on that. So, he decided to fish just a little deeper, based solely on a notion that was beginning to form. “This might sound like an odd question, but, we live in odd times, yeah? Does Ted have…special abilities? I mean, can he do things? Powers?”
That triggered something, right enough. Fear, anger, sorrow, irritation, confusion, a plethora of less than pleasant emotions leaking off of her like a lawn sprinkler. “Sorry, just trying to cover all bases, yeah?” he said, tucking his note pad away, figuring this might be a good time to walk away. He fished a card from within one of his pockets, sliding it onto the kitchen counter. “Still, call me anytime if there be anything you wish to talk about. My door, as they say, is always open.” He gave her a reassuring smile as she lifted the card, looking at it a moment.
“Thank you.” Was her short reply, followed by a curt nod, though she still tucked the card into her apron pocket. That was hopeful, though Declan held little hope. Clearly, she did like Ted, love him even, despite any fear she might have. She wouldn’t be quick to roll over and toss him to the wolves.
“We will see ourselves out. Thanks for the hospitality, yeah? Lovely home you have here.” Declan lifted to leave, offering a nod to Mads as he took one last glance around the kitchen, then headed down the hall towards the door. He could still feel all of the emotions wafting towards him from Mrs. Rainey, though there was a new one. Regret. For what, he wondered. Regret about choices made in the past? Regret for talking to the police? Regret about not being truthful? Declan could only guess, though he hoped that things would become clear sooner rather than later.
Back out in the yard, headed towards the car, he made a note of the spirit still lingering, though that would have to be looked at later, if at all. Not every spirit out there wanted Declan’s help, after all. As he reached his side of the car, pulling the door open, he looked over the roof to Mads. “Ever heard of anyone that could replicate?”
Posted: Apr 21 2017, 01:59 AM
Piling into the kitchen Zander would join like he were inserting himself into a conversation he wasn't meant to be part of, that was to say awkward and with a heavy dose of casual bashful hesitation and coy glances between the pair talking about Ted still. He wasn't much help as he stood there, her mind was too flustered and everywhere to make any sense of the jumbled together thoughts. her words, the one she spoke out loud, were things that pinched his brows and made him nervous. Two Teds and she'd only confirm this as a possibility, though the reality of it was still all up in the air. How, was the big question? It seemed Declan agreed to this end and questioned over the man's family, to which he apparently had none. Zander was no cop but this all felt very fishy, two and two were quickly making five and while he wasn't the best at math, he knew five wasn't the correct answer to this equation.
A frown would color his features as he and Declan exchanged glances, Zander's own shifting around the room casually, taking in things that Declan couldn't while his focus was on the woman and her emotions. Her swallowing of lemonade would remind the ginger that she'd poured him a glass as well. Prompted him to sip it, deeming it suddenly safe.
He didn't keel over immediately so that was a good sign.
When Mrs. Rainey finally asked what all of this was about Zand's gaze would wander back to Declan, surprised and curious after this being the first time she'd even inquired about them. Come to think of it, she'd not even asked for any credentials for himself, he could very well be just some kid Declan had picked up off the street, part of some bring your friend to work day, which was not entirely untrue. Still it was odd she'd not asked after any of this until just now. Wandering his gaze around the kitchen once more he'd half listen to the conversion, right up to the point that Declan asked after powers. The sip he'd been taking halted and sputtered him into a fit of coughing. A hand offered to wave away worry he'd turn himself about a bit until it ended. "Wrong pipe," his words were sheepish as he set the glass back on the island and slid it a bit away as if shunning it for its wrong doing. Asking after powers was something she'd not respond to, though it wondered Zander as it invited questioning after them.
Surely she'd be too distraught to connect dots.
Card handed off the pair would move to excuse themselves, the woman seemingly at the end of her use, too emotional, enough that even the ginger could sense it on her. Agitated, she looked guarded and unwilling to help further. "And for the lemonade," a quiet ducking would see him out and following, clasping the bracelet back around his wrist as they wandered from the pristine house and back towards the car.
"She was a bit... off, yeah?"
Seemed as much though she'd been fine when they'd first gotten there.
Pausing with his door open he'd peer at the other witch over the roof of the car as he questioned over powers. "No, never. Lightwood might know, but I've never heard of anything, not witch anyway." Sliding into his seat and pulling the door closed he'd pause mid seat belt snapping. "Might be fae of some sort? Maybe he has a partner she doesn't know about. Glamour is... well, a tricky thing. I don't rightly understand it but I know they can change themselves." He'd ponder a moment as he clicked his belt into place.
"It doesn't really fit though. The vision I got – from his coat – was of two of them, not separated, they were together and having a conversation but I couldn't make any of it out. One of them was angry... I mean I don't know what Ted even looks like, so I don't know which was angry, but one of them had a beard and the other wore glasses and looked fairly presentable compared to the bearded fellow. They looked the same otherwise though. It was the spectacled one that was talking, the other looked irritated but the one talking was red-faced and clearly upset."
Glancing out the window he'd peer at the house with its immaculate front yard.
"You know, it's strange she didn't ask why we were there asking about her husband... odder still that she just accepted us, both of us, when I have no credentials what-so-ever to even offer her."
Propping his elbow on the windowsill he'd ponder over things once more, chin settled in his palm to tap fingers along his lis in contemplation. "I think there are some books in the coven's library on potential powers, might be a good place to start? Although I suppose she could be lying and he could just simply have a twin brother," his smile was quiet when he turned his gaze to the side to peer at Declan. "Could drop me off at the house and I can dig there while you dig at the station for relatives and whatnot?"
It wasn't like he had anything else to do tonight, might as well be useful in helping a ghost... do whatever it was ghosts did when they found out who murdered them.
Posted: Apr 21 2017, 01:34 PM
“Off.” Declan said the word as if mulling it over as an apt descriptor for Mrs. Rainey. “Yeah, understatement there.” He gave a nod. “Where I go unsure is whether she was planking it because she’s involved somehow, and wasn’t expecting to have to give answers to the cops, or was she fearful because she’s a prisoner of…whatever this is.” Declan was silent, glad to listen to Mads while he gave his opinion and input, which was one of the reasons he wanted another along. As the car pulled away, his gaze again shifted to the lingering spirit in the yard. Maybe a trip later, a bit more covertly to talk to him. If people knew what a valuable source of information they could be, everyone would buy a Ouija board.
He hadn’t considered the idea of this being a Fae issue. For a man who regularly mingled with dead people and had run with wolves for a while, he was remarkably unfamiliar with the rest of the supernatural world. It merited investigation, for certain. Declan’s brow furrowed as he absorbed the details of Mads’ actual vision, and no, it didn’t quite fit with the replication or clone theory, though anything was possible. Mads hit the nail on the head though, regarding the most obvious and easiest solution. Mrs. Rainey was lying.
“So…” Declan was half conversing, half speaking rhetorically. “…who be the other chancer, and why were they having a row.” It of course could be the cliché of the long-lost brother who comes to town and causes problems, and Mrs. Rainey doesn’t even know about it. How many Soaps had used that one? He pondered the next statement, having wondered about that himself, and it just made his brain turn a circuit. Had she been expecting them? Had she been too busy worrying to wonder what the problem could be? So busy recalling some already rehearsed story that she didn’t bother to actually look at what was happening? Hindsight would make the answer obvious, it always did, but the problem with hindsight is that you actually had to move forward first.
“I see that sort of thing a lot with dealers and bangers. Tossers who are well aware that damn near everything they do is on the far side of the law so it’s never a shock when the shades come to the door. She doesn’t entirely fit that bill though, does she.” Declan drummed his fingers on the wheel of the car for a moment as he pondered further. “Also see it with folk held against their will with a bit of forced Stockholm. They’re more afraid of whatever has been promised to happen than any result of lying to the cops. But even if that were true, believe me, mucker, there was genuine adoration there when she spoke of him. It just…” he trailed off with a sigh, a slow shake of his head given. A fecking mess is what it was.
“Right. Sound plan, I suppose. Don’t have much else. You hit the books, I’ll hit the archives, and maybe print out a picture or two, hit up my irregulars and see if anyone out there knows anything about anything.” Declan needed a good solid course of action, otherwise he’d puzzle all of these threads out until his mind was one big knot, and that served no one. “And, uh, thanks again. At the very least, it’s good to have another set of eyes and perspective. But you helped tremendously with your other thing, yeah? I do owe you.”
Declan stopped the Crown Vic at the Coven House, leaning a bit to speak to the departing witch. “Call me if you find out anything, yeah? I’ll do the same. Here’s to hoping.” He offered a wave as he pulled away from the curb. He knew he had a bit of a long road ahead, digging for someone that might not exist, but it was currently the most solid idea out of the lot.
Declan fixed himself a cup of tea, and chose a packet of Pepperidge Farm raspberry shortbread cookies from the vending machine, then headed into the usually empty archive room.
“What are we hunting today, man?” came the voice of Kurt from behind where he sat in front of one of the terminals. Declan took a sip of his tea, glancing over his shoulder to offer the expired hippie a nod.
“Possible twin, maybe a clone, or just a brother of someone. It’s complicated.” He said, then explained the basic outline of events.
“You always find the weird ones, man. Far out.” Chuckled Kurt, reading the screen over Declan’s shoulder. “So where do you start? Birth records and shit?”
“Right me boyo.” Said Declan, popping another of the shortbreads into his mouth, chewing it a moment, squinting his eyes gently at the screen. Even a secret, unexpected birth would leave a trail somewhere. Medical records, orphanages, state institutions, missing persons, something. It was tedious work, and this is what they left out of the television shows. Or they just shoved in some computer guru that could obtain anything anywhere within a few minutes. If only.
“His mom’s name was Agatha? Huh. That’s a name you don’t hear every day. Cool name, though. Agatha. Hey! Like that chick who wrote the mystery books! Ha!” Kurt said with a laugh. “You can be Hercule Poir-fucking-ot, man!”
“Right.” Said Declan, a little distracted as he scrolled through the birth records for that hospital. “Wouldn’t mind a spin on the Orient Express. They’re making a new movie of that, you know? Johnny Depp.”
“Johnny who? You made that name up.” Kurt replied.
“Never mind. You should haunt a theater sometime. Some good flicks out.” Said Declan as he leaned back in his seat, taking another sip of his tea, a furrow creased his brow. “This…doesn’t make sense. Two sets of data. Slightly different birth weights, lengths, but, only one name, Edward, and only one discharge record. What was the other name Mads said he heard? Greg. Well, Gregory, where did you run off to.” Declan leaned forward to type a few words into the search, bringing up discharge records for the following week from the date of Ted’s.
“What, you think they lost a baby? Wouldn’t Agatha know? I mean, come on, man.” Kurt said as he again read over Declan’s shoulder.
“Don’t know, me boyo. Ever seen a childbirth before? Right chaos, that. And you’d be dead shocked at how deep the black market on babies go. Who knows?” Declan said as he gently tapped his finger up and down on the mouse, his gaze scanning the screen before him.
“What, you mean a fucking hospital would steal a baby and sell it? I’m telling you, man, you can’t trust anybody! I bet it’s that MKUltra shit. This is getting heavy. Check CIA records. Fucking fascists, dude. No offense.” Kurt began pacing up and down the hallway behind Declan.
“None taken, yeah? But we will call that Plan B.” Declan jotted down a few notes, then opened a new window for a general background check. He jotted a few more notes down, then lifted to his feet, the notes tucked into his pocket, the remainder of his tea gulped down. Declan looked at his watch, then frowned gently. “Better get a move on, yeah? Coming?” He asked, glancing to Kurt.
“You bet, man. Let me get my coat.” The ghost laughed, to which Declan answered with a chuckle as he headed out. He stopped by the desk sergeant’s cubicle, went through the necessary tedium to obtain a warrant, then headed to the garage and to his Crown Victoria.
The bank manager was reasonably cooperative, though a little confused as to why bank records from thirty something years ago would mean anything to anybody. Declan thanked the woman for her time as he headed back to the car. Kurt was over by a newsstand chatting it up with another spirit, both turned and offered a wave to Declan as the man got back into his car.
“I’ll see you back at the office, man. Gotta see a guy about some stuff.” Said Kurt, which evoked a shake of Declan’s head. He had no idea what sort of mischief was about to happen, but the less he knew, the better.
Back at his desk, Declan looked up a few more things, then sat back and gazed over everything. He then slid his phone from his pocket and dialed Mads’ phone.
“Heyup. Looks like you were bang on about the brother. Still a bit thin at the moment, but looks a bit like she did give birth to twins, but she only took one home. Did a bit of connecting the dots, and seems she might have made a little side money on the other one. Still gotta look into whoever was on the other side of that transaction, but it’s something. How goes it with you, then?”
Posted: Today at 03:12 pm
It was all a bit odd, another understatement from the mind of Alexander. Fingers tapping gently against his lower lip he'd ponder the moments before like rewatching a movie, trying to make heads or tails of what he'd seen, a thing that was hard to explain without showing someone. If only he had some ability to project what he'd seen, all of this would have been ten times easier. He couldn't rightly say she reminded him of a Stockholm case, not that he'd seen many outside of film but he knew a bit about it from school and his study of history. "There was too much irritation for Stockholm, at least as far as I know it. She seemed very much the irritated housewife when push came to a shove, less blind devotion and moon-eyed than I'd expect," which left fae or some weird long-lost brother. His personal knowledge of fae was iffy at best and while he had some ideas he wasn't entirely sure if any of them would pan out to be anything useful or even correct beyond hearsay.
A plan is made and several minutes later the car would pause outside the coven house to drop him off. Waving off the praise in a ducking of his head, the ginger's cheeks would pink softly as he mumbled something about it being no big deal as he shifted to slide from the car. Door paused in his grip he'd nod a bit to the other witch. "Yeah, of course. Good luck," a bit of a wave, soft and awkward at best and the he'd slide himself into the almost empty house.
Luckily the few that lingered were all studying or in various states of work leaving him to his own devices.
A mug of tea and a stack of books later and he felt right at home, like he were studying for some final. Unfortunately the final wasn't a class he'd taken so the question was too broad and his understanding over it severely lacking. Even still he poured himself over it, or into it rather, learning more about fae than he'd ever really considered himself even curious over. The more he knew the less enthused his mind was over it all, where it might have brought others peace of mind, it brought him nothing of the sort. They were a vast and, quite frankly, terrifying people. Capable of too many things that even witches weren't.
By his second mug of tea and several giant books later, his head was a spinning mess of information he wasn't entirely sure how to adequately process. He had options though, several though two looked the most promising, one of which was... well, highly unsavory and the other was odd and seemed lacking in the face of a technological mind.
Elbows propped on the table before him and head in his hands while he read about jinn and their ability to teleport and create portals, the vibration of his phone (more than the noise) across the table's surface would start his heart between the a defibrillator. A hand clasped against his chest he'd answer the phone in a voice hurried and breathless. "Hey Declan," a few fumbled button presses later and he'd set the small rectangle on the table as the other witch spoke about a brother that had indeed been a brother after all. "As in sold it-- him?" He sounded flabbergasted by this news, as if any mother could ever part with a creature she'd willingly made. His eyes would sweep over the pages he was reading on jinn and their offering of their children as gifts--
A frown would press into his features.
"Uhh, a few possibilities. While it could be just about any fae, they typically can't hold faces that aren't theirs for any extended period of time. There seem to be a few that are better suitedthough...," he'd flip open another book he'd marked earlier. "So, golem aren't a bad choice. They're more a construct than an actual fae but they're fashioned from earth and given... a heart, that heart then dictates what or who they look like. I can't find much on how they're made or if they require something else? I've got a friend at the college hunting down some more info at the library there but so far she hasn't found much." Some more shuffling around and the next book is opened and skimmed. "The other is wendigo. Right nasty things, their glamour is dictated by... well... by who they eat. They take on the faces of their... food? Victims?"
He sounded less unsure than he did, simply put off by the whole idea.
"I don't know how we'd find out what he was though, not without finding him. Wendigo have reflective eyes, kind of like a cat... they also bleed black. Essentially, they're... dead and reanimated, which means they have to... ya'know, eat people to stay alive."
If it was a brother the fae might not be important though, it could be possible the brother was no longer... the brother, so to speak.
"It says that wendigo rely pretty heavily on the black market to sustain themselves and some of the things needed for the golem process are also hard to obtain, so that might be a good place to start? Though... I don't know how well auditing the black market for information will go...," his voice would turn around a soft amused smile. He supposed that's why Declan was paid more than he was though, to figure this stuff out. "I don't know how much help I can be beyond this, not unless you can track down something that belonged to Greg.
"Is their mother still alive?"