Chapter 6 - Breaking the Case
By pierrot-le-fou
That damn ringing...a sound so faint deep inside of the world of dreams. Its gentle pitch always beckoning you out of a coma. Despite the situation, you're pulled to that noise. Evaporating the illusions around you and tearing you back into the conscious world. Gradually it becomes louder and louder, until all you hear is that ringing. That horrible chime...
Fucking mornings.
Tapping his alarm on snooze, Keith Douglas descended back into the depths of his mind and into the warmth of his visage; several girls in tight pink lingerie sprawled out on the bed before him, writhing and grasping at his shirt and belt buckle. Suddenly, just as Keith was about to leap into heaven, some crazy-looking guy with tattoos and pink sunglasses entered the room with a frying pan, slowly flipping a pancake and eating onion rings.
The guy hit Keith with the pancake and flung him out of the cozy room and into an old 1975 Chevrolet truck, driving to an unknown location in the flatlands of nowhere. Peering out into the flat, arid, and hostile desert before him, Keith saw blank highway signs and dust devils that slowly spiraled into massive twisters of sand. Suddenly, the road was torn apart and lifted into the air along with Keith, driving right into the eye of the fierce storm that seemed to be pulling everything into it. As he entered the storm, he found himself no longer in a vortex of wind and earth, but in the middle of space looking on into a brilliant rainbow-colored nebula...still driving along as if nothing had happened to the road.
Suddenly, he heard music from the radio...it was loud, too loud. Keith was puzzled by the noise at first, wondering if his dream had somehow incorporated Bubba the Love Sponge introducing the beginning of "Mama" by Genesis. But as Phil Collins's voice grew louder, it became apparent to him, as the majestic power of the nebula began to fade and the steering wheel in his hands melted into a pillow, that the extra five minutes of sleep had quickly run out...
**********
Keith had slept badly the night before. He woke up with a kink in his neck and rubbed it till he didn't feel as sore. Keith felt good about his figure as he quickly flexed his bicep in the mirror; he was fortunate for this, as he hadn't limited himself when it came to eating. He cooked his own breakfast, fixing a pound of thickly-sliced Italian sausage and several buttery croissants. He doused it all down with a big mug of coffee that was dashed with a nice helping of cream and sugar. As usual in the early mornings, he padded around his house in a pair of plaid slippers and a dark bathrobe as he thought over the day's chores while listening to the radio. It wasn't every day he got to sleep in before he had to do his job.
He'd reviewed the file on the two missing Syndicate prisoners the previous night, as well as skimming through some new files on two higher-up Blacken Syndicate members: Hikki and Father "Furion" Sadar, who were believed to be the ones behind the raid. He also breezed a bit through some of the Echelon members who were killed in the attack.
"Damn..." Keith thought. "It seems the Governor's private police weren't as fierce as everyone thought they were...eighteen private police dead, and several more injured." Keith shook his head.
Keith studied the information a bit more until he got a headache. He'd need more coffee and croissants before his mind would completely wake up and unravel an answer as to why this show of force was necessary. Instead of baking them, he decided to treat himself and go to Café de Lune.
As he got into his car, Keith could taste the rich flavor of Luna's croissants. He wondered what it was that made them so much better than his own. Was it the butter? The dough? Maybe the heating temperature or the light hint of coconut oil? It didn't matter to Keith as he sat down in the massage cushion covering his car seat. Turning on the moving shiatsu mechanism, the pain in his upper back faded away as he turned the ignition to start his day.
**********
Allen Black was a regular at Café de Lune. For the past three years, he would come in every morning and sample two or three of Luna's cookies or coffee cake before finally ordering a muffin, coffee, and afterwards a large green tea to go. It was like a ritual for Al, especially since he could never cook for himself, unless it came in a box and had a time for how long to microwave it.
Al was completely surprised that Keith asked him to meet him here this morning. Especially since Keith didn't like going out for food.
It was a bad sign for Al. Whenever Keith asked Al to meet him some place for food, it typically meant that Keith had hit a hard spot in a difficult case. But Al couldn't place what could be so hard. Sure, there was civil unrest. Lower Actonia was openly opposed to the political leadership represented by the GOP and the current administration. And with the capital punishment sentence placed on the boy, it was only a matter of time before somebody did something. It was completely foreseeable that the Blacken Syndicate would use its size and strength to attack Comdot Estate...although the scale was surprising.
Al found it all to be cut and dry, although they'd probably never find out what members of the Syndicate pulled off the raid. It would wind up like all the other political cases they'd received; there would be arrests. Probably not the people who were inovlved with the raid itself, but there would be an immediate police crackdown, with Keith and himself at the helm.
**********
Al waved Keith over to his table as he walked in, ringing the bell at the top of the door. "Did you get my croissants?" he asked.
"Luna is having her bakers make some fresh ones for you," Al said, reading a magazine. "I got you a chive with green tea while you're waiting."
Al took a few more seconds finishing the line he was on before he continued. "So what's the plan, dawg?"
"Eh, I'm thinkin' 'bout a good game plan. Maybe go into the office, have a doughnut, make my move on Detective Kusanagi over in Section 9. Go to Vegas, get married, come back and buy a bigger hosue, have some kids, maybe get a dog..." Keith thought it over. "Nah, too much too young...to quote a great ska band."
"What is it with you and ska?" Al asked, disgusted.
"What's with you and...that shirt?" Keith retorted. "It looks horrible on you."
"Shut up...you bastid."
"Well anyway, real game plan is that we had a breakthrough with those guys up in Comdot, and they're thinking about letting our crime scene units in at 2PM at the latest. Hopefully, we'll get to sneak in with them, interview some of the victims, and actually get the ball rollin' on this case," Keith said.
"Maybe we will, maybe we won't," Al said unenthusiastically.
"What's wrong? You're not usually this excited about a case," Keith asked.
"Eh, it's nothing. If I had it my way, I'd ignore that the whole thing happened and just let it slide."
Keith looked at him blankly. "And what would the families of the eighteen guys who got killed last night have to say about that? How is that fair to them? These weren't just some goons that got killed; these guys had a badge."
"Dawg, I know that. It's just...don't you see the absurdity in all this? What the hell are they doing not allowing a crime scene unit in? Why are we being scheduled to see a crime scene, talk to the victims, being impeded in our investigation? For what? What the hell do they think we're going to find?"
"They're afraid we're going to find the sixty billion double dollar man and steal him," Keith said sarcastically. "But we aren't investigating Ozzal. They'll have to at least give us the details we'll need to move this case forward."
Hikki had been listening to them while buttering the croissants. He suspected that these two weren't motivated enough to be a problem...but he'd give the button men notice that if they saw these guys sticking their noses around Trunks' Pub or Gunsmoke Inc. that they had full reserve to do whatever they needed to keep them out of their spots.
"Excuse moi? Your croissants, zey are ready," Hikki said.
"Yeah, can you bag those up, we're going to get 'em to go," Keith said, acting oblivious to whom he was talking to.
**********
Emiri had stayed the night in the same silk sheets she'd stomped into the night before. Kira had healed her wounds and cleaned her bed, despite her repeated demands to "bathe in the blood."
Come morning, it was up to Kira to get her up and prepared for the grilling to come. Dragging an unconscious Emiri into the shower to wake her out of her drunken sleep, Kira put the water on cold and ran out of the shower to fetch some aspirin, as well as some more stitches, as he knew she'd launch his head into a wall when she woke up.
When he returned, Emiri sat on her bed, soaking wet and shivering. "Was that your idea of a fun joke?" she hissed at him quietly.
"No. I needed to wake you and get you prepared."
"For what?" she growled.
"Two detectives have been scheduled to interview you later this afternoon. In the meantime, it has been requested for you to be as kind and cooperative as possible to these detectives."
"What asshat said that?"
"This comes from Home Affairs Counselor Goda. He has requested this from all of Echelon when the National Police's detectives arrive."
"God DAMMIT!!! How many times do I have to say it?! Do these fuckers just not know who the hell I am?!!!"
Kira smirked and went to the closet. "Here," he said blankly. "Wear this." He handed her a black Spanish Lolita dress. "It kind of makes you look cute."
Emiri stared at Kira for a second and then took the dress. "If you weren't so good at healing wounds, I'd lop your goddamn head off."
"As stern as ever, I see," Kira mused.
**********
Major Tom Taredan was the official "overseer" of the crime scene investigation. But to Keith and Allen, it wasn't that dissimilar from any other crime scene. There were a bunch of uniforms, all standing around yapping and telling jokes, crime scene investigators and ambulance units doing the heavy lifting and dragging out the body bags, and a bunch of guys just randomly standing around.
"So how much evidence do you think they've destroyed?" Al joked.
"Let's go find out," Keith said as he stuffed the last of the croissants in his mouth.
Strolling over to the taped-off area, Keith wandered into a bloody mess. "Eesh, what happened here? There's a big pool of blood just collected right here."
One of the crime scene investigators answered, "This was where the seven guys not wearing Echelon uniforms were killed."
"All in one pile like that? No bullet wounds, just hacked up and impaled?"
"Nope...although they did manage to get two shots off before whatever it was hit 'em. It didn't do them much good; both of the slugs hit the wall over there." The crime scene investigator pointed at the closest wall.
"That's some crazy stuff," Al said.
Suddenly, Keith's musical ring tone went off. "I gotta take this," Keith said, walking off with his cell phone in hand.
"This is Detective Douglas...Yeah...That serious, huh?...All right, I'll meet you there." Keith hung up the phone and walked back to Al and the CSI guy.
"I didn't know you liked Kayne West?" Al chuckled.
"Yo man, can you do the interviews by yourself? Something a little pressin' just came up," Keith asked, brushing off Al's ball-busting.
"Sure man, what's up?"
"Nothing serious; I just gotta go. I'll call you though as soon as I'm done," Keith said as he turned around and jogged to his car.
**********
Keith drove around to the back end of a dark alley and parked beneath the freeway overhang. It was only a few minutes' wait before Wyatt Matthews opened the passenger side door and hopped in. There were a few good seconds of silence before he said anything.
"You know what really ticks me off about you, Keith?" Wyatt asked, looking out his window.
"What?"
"You're a nosy person. The nosiest person I know." He paused, looking right at Keith. "Then again, I guess that's what makes you a great detective. But you've got the subtleties down too. You always ask questions without going too far, and you're always fair about the way you go after people. I've always admired that about you."
"Look man, you called me. What's your point?" Keith asked.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but you might not wanna be seen around Trunks' Pub anymore."
Keith's eyes lit up, sensing he'd been threatened. "What the hell is that supposed to mean!"
"I told you not to take that the wrong way! Trust me on this, Keith," Wyatt interrupted him. "The word has come down from some of the other higher-ups. The Syndicate's been growing, and if any of the new blood sees you, they've been ordered to make their bones on the spot and waste you."
"I don't believe this bullshit..." Keith mumbled. "No respect for the badge anymore. All you people. Eighteen guys last night, and now this bullshit!" Keith fumed for a few more minutes in silence.
"There was a time when it was respected..." Wyatt sighed, finally breaking the silence. "Father Sadar, Elizabeth Gaurdsmen, and Kirara Amour planned the attack on Comdot Estate, with it all being overseen by Hikki and a new member named Samson. I know all this because I played my part in the attack as well. I helped Father Furion and the others reach the cell Landon was supposed to be in. But he was long gone before we got there."
"He...he was already gone? W-Wait, skip that. Would you be willing to testify to all that?"
"Maybe, when this is all over...assuming I even live to see that day." Wyatt grinned morbidly.
Keith looked blankly at Wyatt. "So...where do we go from here?"
Wyatt sighed again and began to open his door. "Next week. New location. I'll call you," he said as he got out of the car and disappeared the same way he had come.
Keith sat in his car a little more, turning on the massage cushion and trying a new relaxing breathing exercise.
He had already made up his mind; he would not put this into a report. There was still no hard evidence. But he would be damned if he was going to lay off of the Pub. He wouldn't be being responsible if he gave them complete free rein.
**********
Character/Name References:
Characters used:
Keith Douglas = k_dawg_3484 (New!)
Allen Black = AlastourBlaque (New!)
Hikki = Kohikki
Emiri = _Boxers_
Tom Taredan = Metatronda
Wyatt Matthews = Wyotech_material
Anime characters mentioned:
Dude that hit Keith with a pancake = Kamina (Gurren Lagann)
Motoko Kusanagi = Ghost in the Shell
Goda = Ghost in the Shell
That damn ringing...a sound so faint deep inside of the world of dreams. Its gentle pitch always beckoning you out of a coma. Despite the situation, you're pulled to that noise. Evaporating the illusions around you and tearing you back into the conscious world. Gradually it becomes louder and louder, until all you hear is that ringing. That horrible chime...
Fucking mornings.
Tapping his alarm on snooze, Keith Douglas descended back into the depths of his mind and into the warmth of his visage; several girls in tight pink lingerie sprawled out on the bed before him, writhing and grasping at his shirt and belt buckle. Suddenly, just as Keith was about to leap into heaven, some crazy-looking guy with tattoos and pink sunglasses entered the room with a frying pan, slowly flipping a pancake and eating onion rings.
The guy hit Keith with the pancake and flung him out of the cozy room and into an old 1975 Chevrolet truck, driving to an unknown location in the flatlands of nowhere. Peering out into the flat, arid, and hostile desert before him, Keith saw blank highway signs and dust devils that slowly spiraled into massive twisters of sand. Suddenly, the road was torn apart and lifted into the air along with Keith, driving right into the eye of the fierce storm that seemed to be pulling everything into it. As he entered the storm, he found himself no longer in a vortex of wind and earth, but in the middle of space looking on into a brilliant rainbow-colored nebula...still driving along as if nothing had happened to the road.
Suddenly, he heard music from the radio...it was loud, too loud. Keith was puzzled by the noise at first, wondering if his dream had somehow incorporated Bubba the Love Sponge introducing the beginning of "Mama" by Genesis. But as Phil Collins's voice grew louder, it became apparent to him, as the majestic power of the nebula began to fade and the steering wheel in his hands melted into a pillow, that the extra five minutes of sleep had quickly run out...
**********
Keith had slept badly the night before. He woke up with a kink in his neck and rubbed it till he didn't feel as sore. Keith felt good about his figure as he quickly flexed his bicep in the mirror; he was fortunate for this, as he hadn't limited himself when it came to eating. He cooked his own breakfast, fixing a pound of thickly-sliced Italian sausage and several buttery croissants. He doused it all down with a big mug of coffee that was dashed with a nice helping of cream and sugar. As usual in the early mornings, he padded around his house in a pair of plaid slippers and a dark bathrobe as he thought over the day's chores while listening to the radio. It wasn't every day he got to sleep in before he had to do his job.
He'd reviewed the file on the two missing Syndicate prisoners the previous night, as well as skimming through some new files on two higher-up Blacken Syndicate members: Hikki and Father "Furion" Sadar, who were believed to be the ones behind the raid. He also breezed a bit through some of the Echelon members who were killed in the attack.
"Damn..." Keith thought. "It seems the Governor's private police weren't as fierce as everyone thought they were...eighteen private police dead, and several more injured." Keith shook his head.
Keith studied the information a bit more until he got a headache. He'd need more coffee and croissants before his mind would completely wake up and unravel an answer as to why this show of force was necessary. Instead of baking them, he decided to treat himself and go to Café de Lune.
As he got into his car, Keith could taste the rich flavor of Luna's croissants. He wondered what it was that made them so much better than his own. Was it the butter? The dough? Maybe the heating temperature or the light hint of coconut oil? It didn't matter to Keith as he sat down in the massage cushion covering his car seat. Turning on the moving shiatsu mechanism, the pain in his upper back faded away as he turned the ignition to start his day.
**********
Allen Black was a regular at Café de Lune. For the past three years, he would come in every morning and sample two or three of Luna's cookies or coffee cake before finally ordering a muffin, coffee, and afterwards a large green tea to go. It was like a ritual for Al, especially since he could never cook for himself, unless it came in a box and had a time for how long to microwave it.
Al was completely surprised that Keith asked him to meet him here this morning. Especially since Keith didn't like going out for food.
It was a bad sign for Al. Whenever Keith asked Al to meet him some place for food, it typically meant that Keith had hit a hard spot in a difficult case. But Al couldn't place what could be so hard. Sure, there was civil unrest. Lower Actonia was openly opposed to the political leadership represented by the GOP and the current administration. And with the capital punishment sentence placed on the boy, it was only a matter of time before somebody did something. It was completely foreseeable that the Blacken Syndicate would use its size and strength to attack Comdot Estate...although the scale was surprising.
Al found it all to be cut and dry, although they'd probably never find out what members of the Syndicate pulled off the raid. It would wind up like all the other political cases they'd received; there would be arrests. Probably not the people who were inovlved with the raid itself, but there would be an immediate police crackdown, with Keith and himself at the helm.
**********
Al waved Keith over to his table as he walked in, ringing the bell at the top of the door. "Did you get my croissants?" he asked.
"Luna is having her bakers make some fresh ones for you," Al said, reading a magazine. "I got you a chive with green tea while you're waiting."
Al took a few more seconds finishing the line he was on before he continued. "So what's the plan, dawg?"
"Eh, I'm thinkin' 'bout a good game plan. Maybe go into the office, have a doughnut, make my move on Detective Kusanagi over in Section 9. Go to Vegas, get married, come back and buy a bigger hosue, have some kids, maybe get a dog..." Keith thought it over. "Nah, too much too young...to quote a great ska band."
"What is it with you and ska?" Al asked, disgusted.
"What's with you and...that shirt?" Keith retorted. "It looks horrible on you."
"Shut up...you bastid."
"Well anyway, real game plan is that we had a breakthrough with those guys up in Comdot, and they're thinking about letting our crime scene units in at 2PM at the latest. Hopefully, we'll get to sneak in with them, interview some of the victims, and actually get the ball rollin' on this case," Keith said.
"Maybe we will, maybe we won't," Al said unenthusiastically.
"What's wrong? You're not usually this excited about a case," Keith asked.
"Eh, it's nothing. If I had it my way, I'd ignore that the whole thing happened and just let it slide."
Keith looked at him blankly. "And what would the families of the eighteen guys who got killed last night have to say about that? How is that fair to them? These weren't just some goons that got killed; these guys had a badge."
"Dawg, I know that. It's just...don't you see the absurdity in all this? What the hell are they doing not allowing a crime scene unit in? Why are we being scheduled to see a crime scene, talk to the victims, being impeded in our investigation? For what? What the hell do they think we're going to find?"
"They're afraid we're going to find the sixty billion double dollar man and steal him," Keith said sarcastically. "But we aren't investigating Ozzal. They'll have to at least give us the details we'll need to move this case forward."
Hikki had been listening to them while buttering the croissants. He suspected that these two weren't motivated enough to be a problem...but he'd give the button men notice that if they saw these guys sticking their noses around Trunks' Pub or Gunsmoke Inc. that they had full reserve to do whatever they needed to keep them out of their spots.
"Excuse moi? Your croissants, zey are ready," Hikki said.
"Yeah, can you bag those up, we're going to get 'em to go," Keith said, acting oblivious to whom he was talking to.
**********
Emiri had stayed the night in the same silk sheets she'd stomped into the night before. Kira had healed her wounds and cleaned her bed, despite her repeated demands to "bathe in the blood."
Come morning, it was up to Kira to get her up and prepared for the grilling to come. Dragging an unconscious Emiri into the shower to wake her out of her drunken sleep, Kira put the water on cold and ran out of the shower to fetch some aspirin, as well as some more stitches, as he knew she'd launch his head into a wall when she woke up.
When he returned, Emiri sat on her bed, soaking wet and shivering. "Was that your idea of a fun joke?" she hissed at him quietly.
"No. I needed to wake you and get you prepared."
"For what?" she growled.
"Two detectives have been scheduled to interview you later this afternoon. In the meantime, it has been requested for you to be as kind and cooperative as possible to these detectives."
"What asshat said that?"
"This comes from Home Affairs Counselor Goda. He has requested this from all of Echelon when the National Police's detectives arrive."
"God DAMMIT!!! How many times do I have to say it?! Do these fuckers just not know who the hell I am?!!!"
Kira smirked and went to the closet. "Here," he said blankly. "Wear this." He handed her a black Spanish Lolita dress. "It kind of makes you look cute."
Emiri stared at Kira for a second and then took the dress. "If you weren't so good at healing wounds, I'd lop your goddamn head off."
"As stern as ever, I see," Kira mused.
**********
Major Tom Taredan was the official "overseer" of the crime scene investigation. But to Keith and Allen, it wasn't that dissimilar from any other crime scene. There were a bunch of uniforms, all standing around yapping and telling jokes, crime scene investigators and ambulance units doing the heavy lifting and dragging out the body bags, and a bunch of guys just randomly standing around.
"So how much evidence do you think they've destroyed?" Al joked.
"Let's go find out," Keith said as he stuffed the last of the croissants in his mouth.
Strolling over to the taped-off area, Keith wandered into a bloody mess. "Eesh, what happened here? There's a big pool of blood just collected right here."
One of the crime scene investigators answered, "This was where the seven guys not wearing Echelon uniforms were killed."
"All in one pile like that? No bullet wounds, just hacked up and impaled?"
"Nope...although they did manage to get two shots off before whatever it was hit 'em. It didn't do them much good; both of the slugs hit the wall over there." The crime scene investigator pointed at the closest wall.
"That's some crazy stuff," Al said.
Suddenly, Keith's musical ring tone went off. "I gotta take this," Keith said, walking off with his cell phone in hand.
"This is Detective Douglas...Yeah...That serious, huh?...All right, I'll meet you there." Keith hung up the phone and walked back to Al and the CSI guy.
"I didn't know you liked Kayne West?" Al chuckled.
"Yo man, can you do the interviews by yourself? Something a little pressin' just came up," Keith asked, brushing off Al's ball-busting.
"Sure man, what's up?"
"Nothing serious; I just gotta go. I'll call you though as soon as I'm done," Keith said as he turned around and jogged to his car.
**********
Keith drove around to the back end of a dark alley and parked beneath the freeway overhang. It was only a few minutes' wait before Wyatt Matthews opened the passenger side door and hopped in. There were a few good seconds of silence before he said anything.
"You know what really ticks me off about you, Keith?" Wyatt asked, looking out his window.
"What?"
"You're a nosy person. The nosiest person I know." He paused, looking right at Keith. "Then again, I guess that's what makes you a great detective. But you've got the subtleties down too. You always ask questions without going too far, and you're always fair about the way you go after people. I've always admired that about you."
"Look man, you called me. What's your point?" Keith asked.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but you might not wanna be seen around Trunks' Pub anymore."
Keith's eyes lit up, sensing he'd been threatened. "What the hell is that supposed to mean!"
"I told you not to take that the wrong way! Trust me on this, Keith," Wyatt interrupted him. "The word has come down from some of the other higher-ups. The Syndicate's been growing, and if any of the new blood sees you, they've been ordered to make their bones on the spot and waste you."
"I don't believe this bullshit..." Keith mumbled. "No respect for the badge anymore. All you people. Eighteen guys last night, and now this bullshit!" Keith fumed for a few more minutes in silence.
"There was a time when it was respected..." Wyatt sighed, finally breaking the silence. "Father Sadar, Elizabeth Gaurdsmen, and Kirara Amour planned the attack on Comdot Estate, with it all being overseen by Hikki and a new member named Samson. I know all this because I played my part in the attack as well. I helped Father Furion and the others reach the cell Landon was supposed to be in. But he was long gone before we got there."
"He...he was already gone? W-Wait, skip that. Would you be willing to testify to all that?"
"Maybe, when this is all over...assuming I even live to see that day." Wyatt grinned morbidly.
Keith looked blankly at Wyatt. "So...where do we go from here?"
Wyatt sighed again and began to open his door. "Next week. New location. I'll call you," he said as he got out of the car and disappeared the same way he had come.
Keith sat in his car a little more, turning on the massage cushion and trying a new relaxing breathing exercise.
He had already made up his mind; he would not put this into a report. There was still no hard evidence. But he would be damned if he was going to lay off of the Pub. He wouldn't be being responsible if he gave them complete free rein.
**********
Character/Name References:
Characters used:
Keith Douglas = k_dawg_3484 (New!)
Allen Black = AlastourBlaque (New!)
Hikki = Kohikki
Emiri = _Boxers_
Tom Taredan = Metatronda
Wyatt Matthews = Wyotech_material
Anime characters mentioned:
Dude that hit Keith with a pancake = Kamina (Gurren Lagann)
Motoko Kusanagi = Ghost in the Shell
Goda = Ghost in the Shell