Bump in the Night

Summary:
July 19 2014: Sara Pezzini comes down to an old crime scene to do a favor for a friend and has an odd conversation

Waterfront Warehouse

A week old crime scene, long since cleaned and cataloged but still taped off.


Characters

NPCs

  • Detective Carruthers - NYPD Special Cases

Mood Music:
[* None]


The call had come in from Detective Carruthers, one of the sharpest of Special Cases' junior detectives. It involved a warehouse and a crime scene a week old that just… didn't make any sense. Bodies, lots of bodies, but only one of them fresh. Animal marks everywhere and a crate of overturned antiquities, apparently illegally shipped. The deceased had been one Monique de Sade, a woman known to organized crime as a suspected fence and sometimes enforcer, though nothing could ever be proven. They'd been found by the waterfront, in the aforementioned warehouse and… that was about it. Nothing made sense. No motive for the killing, no explanation for the twenty or so old and desiccated corpses. No clue what the animals might have been beyond 'some kind of dog.'

Now cleaned up and carefully cataloged by the crime scene techs, the warehouse looks a lot more normal as Carruthers stands in it, frowning at his surroundings and the photos in his hand and the dog laying in the corner. The building's owner had said that yes, he kept a dog to deter break ins though what had happened to him the night of the incident was unclear.

*

Sara Pezzini's partner is, thankfully, not dead. So at least there's a chance of getting this suspension cleaned up eventually. And with that happy thought in mind, she came out to meet Carruthers and get a look at what happened here.

"Hey," she calls in quietly when she shows up, tipping her chin in a slight nod. "Must've been something impressive for you to call me. What's got you stumped?" she asks the younger detective, turning a slow circle to get a good look around.

*

"Hey." Carruthers gives Sara a smile and a nod when she rolls in. "Just… weird. We've got forced entry, but no struggle. Animal marks, but nothing solid on the animals. Corpses that range from ten to a hundred years old and in the middle of it all one very dead Haitian immigrant with a lot of flags to organized crime in her file… oh and this stuff."

He says holding up a picture of the recovered antiquities. "Which was still here when someone stumbled upon the mess."

The dog in the corner huffs out a sigh of the habitually ignored… though it kind of sounded like he was sighing at Carruthers.

*

Sara reaches out for the pictures, head tilting slightly as she looks them over. "The department call in any experts on these things yet? I've got a friend who could probably take a look at them. What do you mean about the corpses, though?" she asks, looking up with an arch of her brow.

"As in anywhere from kids ten years old to geriatrics, or as in corpses that've been bodies for anywhere from ten to a hundred years?" She glances toward the dog as well at the sigh, smirking faintly.

"And one vicious guard beast, apparently."

*

"Huh? Oh the dog." Carruthers sighs. "He's not done anything but lay there since I got here. I don't know how good of a guard dog he actually is." The dog quirks an eye at Carruthers… though that's probably just because he's paying attention now that someone's talking.

"The corpses are down in the morgue. They're all adults, all different COD's and all really, really old corpses. It's almost like someone exhumed a graveyard and dropped the bodies here." He pauses, looking at the file. "Yeah, the department called in a few favors, experts and such. But frankly how this all fits in with our vic is really, really unclear."

*

"That's definitely weird," Sara agrees. "Could be-" She pauses, then grimaces, scrubbing a hand over her face. "You said the vic was Haitian?" she asks, as though that's somehow significant.

*

"She was yeah…" Carruthers has clearly been at this for a long, long time. "Mind if I step out and take a smoke or two Sara? Maybe you can puzzle something out of it or at least point me in the right direction when I get back."

*

"Yeah, go for it," Sara nods to the other detective, passing the photos back and waiting for him to leave before taking a few steps further into the space.

"I swear to God, if this is some voodoo zombie schtick, I'm replacing my belief in God with a belief in the greater sense of irony in the universe," she sighs to herself, starting to pace toward the center of the room, checking the floor for any patterns.

*

Carruthers goes to smoke his frustration away, leaving Sara alone with the guard dog, who is a lanky… actually almost lupine looking thing. Maybe a malamute or something. There's a few minutes of silence before a voice breaks in on Sara's thoughts.

"Which god would you swear to?"

*

Sara spins around, seeking out the voice. Something glints at her wrist, though she doesn't go directly for the Witchblade. Not yet, at least. But she's alert and aware. "Just the one," she starts to answer. "NYPD. Show yourself." Except she doesn't have the gun or the badge to display at the moment.

*

"I'm right here." The voice is off to her left, vaguely in the direction of the dog. It's also deep and, at the moment, very amused sounding. "Nice bracelet, by the way. I wouldn't have thought it quite your color, but you pull it off quite well."

*

"Let's stop playing games, and maybe I won't have to use the bracelet," Sara suggests, turning toward the source of the voice and frowning when she sees only the dog sitting there. "You know who I am. Let's return the favor, shall we?"

*

The dog rises and trots a few steps closer, looking a bit shaggier, now and longer legged. Definitely more like a wolf now. "Me? I'm just the guard dog." He looks her over. "Police? I didn't realize the NYPD was so enlightened. Glad you're here though. I thought Carruthers would never leave."

*

Sara stares for a long moment. Then she crosses her arms over her chest, shifting her weight to one hip. "Sure. Of course the dog talks," she finally says, letting out a long breath. "Sorry Carruthers was a disappointment, Fido. I could get Bukowski, he's got a soft spot for the pets. Probably show up with half a dozen hot dogs if he knew there was an abandoned guard dog here."

*

The guard dog snorts. "I'm more interested in someone capable of doing something about the mess that went down here last week. Carruthers seems bright, so far as it goes, but he still approaches things from a mundane perspective. I'm hoping that bracelet on your arm means you'll be more… open.'

*

"I'm having a conversation with the guard dog," Sara point out, dry. "So the smart money would be on yes." She pushes a hand through her hair, taking another look around the area. "Haitian woman surrounded by a suspicious number of dead people in various stages says voodoo and zombies to me," she says practically. "My question would be how it all ties in with these missing artifacts."

*

The dog shakes his head. "Not quite the question you should be asking, but on the road. The murder is a turf war, plain and simple. One group horns in on another’s business, retaliation occurs. A better question, I think, would be what was so valuable that a crate of priceless smuggled antiquities was left behind?" Now a few steps closer the dog hops up onto a crate so as to be eye level with Sar.

*

"Not everyone deals in the same goods," Sara shrugs, giving the dog a wary eye when he hops up on the crate. "Could've just been a misunderstanding. I kind of think the presence of multiple corpses of varying age is an important element here, though," she adds with a grimace. "Artifacts aren't really my specialty. People who've been killed are more my style. Though the ME'll get the reports with cause of death, so that should help.

*

"I expect the answer you'll get is 'mauled by animals.' And the reason you will get that is because I rather suspect your medical examiner doesn't know the proper tests to run for werewolf hair. Nor, for that matter, the proper tests to run for necromancy since yes, Zombies is a rather inspired call. I guess I'll have to stop calling your people ostriches now. You don't appear to have your head in the sand." The now definitely wolf chuckles, laying down and putting his head on his paws.

*

"I'm sort of an exception to the rule," Sara grimaces, checking for anything that seems out of place, anything the original investigators may have missed. "And even I'm having some trouble reconciling a fight between zombies and werewolves, frankly. Not believing it. Not the weirdest thing this week. More that it's just…A bad syfy channel movie idea." A sidelong glance at the wolf. "Says the woman talking to the guard wolf. You with the wolves, then, or just an interested party?"

*

That draws a deep throated chuckle. "Mmmm. Neither. As I said, I'm a guard dog. Or a sheep dog, you could probably say. Well… sheep wolf, but that sounds odd." The wolf says making an oddly human pontificating gesture with one paw. "Things like this ought not happen. You are, I assume, familiar with the consequences of irresponsible use of magic. Humans begin to ask questions and when they do so I have found they often find answers to the detriment of all. And this is to say nothing of the possibility of dangerous items falling into the hands of… ambitious parties."

There's a short pause as the canine seems to think. "The names you want to look into are 'Silver Syndicate' and 'Ton Ton Macoute'. I expect your department has files on them, albiet ones that do not cover the more esoteric aspects of their businesses."

*

"We are definitely in agreement that things like this ought not happen," Sara nods. "I know enough about magic to know messing with it usually ends poorly for someone. Too many things out there that draw on too many types of power. Lemme guess. The Silver Syndicate are the wolves, and the obviously French Haitian group's the zombies. Because what fun is a club name if you can't snicker about how no one else gets it over drinks." A beat. "Even the gangs've gone hipster. It's enough to make you miss the mob."

*

"Dig too deeply and you may not have to. There's a lot of layers to puzzles like this. It's like an onion. On the one hand, you have people who deal in smuggled antiquities. It's a rich man's game, but there's money to be made, and wherever you go you'll find someone willing to break the rules to make it. Dig deeper and you find the people who deal in very particular antiquities to people of unusual tastes both… mmm… enthusiasts and professionals."

The wolf stretches and smirks at the crack about names. "Such things are not chosen nor abandoned lightly. Names have power, and lineage and may take a life all their own in the right circles. To name a thing is, in a way, to define it. The more so if you have the right kinds of books in your library, if you take my meaning."

*

"Dig deep enough and I'm likely to run into Irons again," Sara summarizes with a grimace. "All due respect, big bad, but this doesn't seem like the sort of assignment I ought to be on. This thing's a damned beacon for people in that market," she points out, jangling the bracelet on her wrist. "No one's going to believe I'm in the market to buy or to sell. Sure, I can beat the pavement, ask some questions out of my own contacts. But I'm not really going to be able to go in except to crack some heads."

"Maybe, and maybe not. Believe me if I knew who these people were, I'd have taken care of them myself. But I don't. I'm not a detective, just a guard dog. And as for cracking heads…" He chuckles. "I think you'd be surprised how many people in this game are as ordinary as you are."

Yes, that statement is made with a smirk and the knowledge of what generally, if not in specific, is dangling on Sara's wrist. "Were you less… aware I wouldn't be giving you this information. Since I am, please know it's because I think there's some application for your skills."

A thought seems to occur to the wolf. "Mmmm. All the same, if you do take it up, watch your back. There are some… big name players in town and I'm not yet sure what they are doing here." People like Loki, for example.

*

Sara Pezzini sighs, looking upward as she counts out days. "Yeah. One week," she muses to herself before looking back to the wolf. "I already spent a good thirty hours or so this week babysitting a prince of hell, and I just picked my partner up from where he walked out of hell, so yeah. There might be some big players in town." She grimaces, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "Something's definitely up lately."

*

"Something is, or I would not be here." The wolf nods. "There has been a great deal of… chaos on 'my end of the block' for near a month now and I've yet to discern why." The canine head cants at the mention of Sara's partner having been to hell. "Hell, mmm? Those Below have been quite busy of late… I wonder…" He looks away for a moment, lost in thought, and then returns his attention to Sara.

"At any rate, watch yourself. I will do my best to keep this from spilling into the light where it cannot be ignored or hidden, but I rather suspect that someone is agitating for just the opposite."

Carruthers footsteps sound, returning. "Ah, your more mundane comapanion. Should you pursue this I rather imagine we'll be meeting again. Until then…" You'd think that he might run off with a line like that, but what he actually does is hop down from the crates, roll over onto his back, exposing his belly, and look up at Sara expectantly, with it must be said, masterful puppy-dog eyes.

*

Sara arches a brow at the sad look, returning it with a long look of her own. "Vicious guard dog," she notes to Carruthers, nodding toward the plea for affection. "If the ME comes down with animal attack, I think you can safely rule this guy out. I've got a couple things I'll look into," she adds, finally relenting enough to lean down for an ear scratch. "Ostrich," she snorts in a low tone before the straightens again. "I'll give you a call when I've got it all together."

*

It's when she leans down that she does find something out of place. A gleam of metal in the corner, under a crate, perhaps kicked there during a scuffle and subsequently missed by the investigators. If she goes to look, it's a small statuette of a young nordic woman holding a basket of apples. And it seems to be gleaming, as if in sunlight, despite the fact that it's in deep, deep shadow.

*

Sara Pezzini eyes the gleam for a moment, nodding slightly to the wolf. "C'mon, Carruthers," she says, slinging an arm around the younger detective's shoulders. "Let's go where you can buy me that drink you promised for coming to check this place out." She's guide him out for now, but once it's done, she'll be back for that statuette. After all, the guard dog can last a little longer, right?


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