It was midnight and Franklin had yet to return home. Not that he hadn't intended to, but he would receive a call every time he even thought about heading that way. It was because of one such call that he now found himself pulling into one of New York's many alleyways. Unfortunately, he wasn't the first, as the media had somehow managed to beat him to the scene. Franklin cursed under his breath before enhancing his emotional barriers and exited his car.

As soon as he had his foot out, a swarm of cameras and microphones descended upon him. He simply ignored them and removed his badge from his left hip in order to flash it at the uni watching the perimeter. Once inside the scene it became obvious that the media wasn't the only thing that had beat him there as a plain clothes officer was already there. He flashed his badge again before speaking, “Detective Shinnick, MRC. What have we got?”

This wasn’t the first themed murder in recent memory. He knew of at least one other murder a member of MRC was investigating with a similar theme. The theme? Greek Gods. What a world they lived in.

It wasn’t clear yet whether this was mutant-related or not, and unfortunately, it was attracting media attention. Something flashy had happened, a body had been found, and someone had called the police. And the media circus trailed them like crows on a battlefield. That was good. Just great. It meant that however this played out, it would play out under a microscope.

Ashton was eying the crime scene as a forensics team gave it a good once-over. Another officer approached and flashed his badge.

>> “Detective Shinnick, MRC. What have we got?”

He seemed new. Ashton had not seen him around the water cooler, so to speak. The Irish cop ran a hand over the stubble on his face, and introduced himself.

”Detective Drake, MRC.” He said. A note of wry humor crept into his voice. ”I’d say we got a dead body!” More seriously, he added ”Forensics says there’s a recurring theme going on. Greek Gods. There was another one recently, a real Cereal Killer. And now this...”

He glanced at the body. It was covered in choking grape vines. Underneath the vines, one could barely make out the pattern of a leopard-print fur coat. Only forensics had commented on how it may have been real leopard. And he’d read up on his Greek Gods after the first killer. The leopard was somebody’s sacred animal. Would the new guy make the connection? More importantly, was this the start of some sort of cult of pantheon-based serial killers? Only time would tell.

Franklin couldn't help but let out a little chuckle at the other officer’s joke. “Are we sure it isn't modern art? I've heard stories about how you New Yorkers.” A quick glance around the scene would reveal that even after over a decade as a cop, he was still able to be surprised by a crime scene. The victim seemed to have been killed by plants from what he can tell and that truly worried him. If a mutant was the killer, the media would jump all over it and paint all mutant as monsters. And if this was indeed a serial killing, the whole city could erupt in a panic.

This needed to be solved quickly yet correctly. One mistake here could make things much worse. The wrong man could pay for a crime they didn't commit and a monster will still be on the streets. No, they will stop this madman before he hurts anyone else. “What do we know about the victim? Fill me in on the other murder. Were both victims mutants or is HQ just worried about how weird this scene looks”

‘How us New Yorkers what?’ Ashton thought. It seemed like the guy had trailed off on a thought, and gotten distracted by the whole dead body thing. Since he had no idea, he didn’t comment on it. He moved on.

The other detective’s reaction, of asking a bunch of questions, like he were the senior officer in charge of the investigation, rubbed Ashton the wrong way. Yes, he was in a gray suit and not a blue police uniform. Yes, his tie was smooth and his jacket pressed. Just because he took pride in his appearance, it didn’t mean all he cared about was appearances. He solved crimes. All the other stuff was secondary. And like every other cop in New York, a fight over jurisdiction made Ashton surly.

He’d already been very nice about sharing a detail about the ongoing investigation. He hadn’t asked the guy why they needed a second Detective on the scene, and he didn’t recall asking for backup. What could Shinnick offer him? Was he just some friendly fellow cop who wandered onto crime scenes due to an inquisitive mind? He wanted to be friendly and all that, but professional courtesy was being tested.

Ashton bared his teeth in a small smile. ”Just curious, Detective, but what drew you to my crime scene? You’re asking a lot of questions, and we’ve got a media circus back there so having a lot of officers on the scene looks good... but last I heard, I was in charge here and I don’t recall asking HQ for a partner in this investigation.” Though with the media massing and questions being asked, that seemed the exact sort of thing that they would do. In fact— Ashton turned and checked his cellphone. His face fell as he read the text that was a confirmation to that line of thought. They did want them working together.

He laughed a jagged laugh. ”Never mind. They do want us working together. I know that came off combative. But you know how these things are. Jurisdiction and all.” With cops, it was all about who had the biggest seniority and the right to the scene.

Franklin hated the politics that came with the badge and accidentally let his anger project out as he responded.  “First of all, I don't care about jurisdiction. All that matters is that we do what is best for the victims and their families.  Secondly, I was on my way home when Calder called me and ordered me to hurry over. If you care so much about credit, then go hold a conference for the vultures over there while I investigate the scene. ”


He was instantly ashamed by his outburst, and quickly brought his emotions back under control.  He had no reason to snap on his fellow officer and especially in front of the media. He was in danger of becoming alienated from his fellow officers here as well, and only because the empath lost control of his emotions.  He ensured to project his regret with every word as he addressed Drake. “Look, I'm sorry. It's been a long day and it's only getting longer. You can take the lead on the investigation, as you already know the details. I just think it'll be easier if I know what is going on as well.”

Ouch. He felt the anger build up inside of him for a moment, and he knew there had been some there beforehand. Politics bothered him too. Results did indeed matter. But he still felt like he ought to stand by his stance. At least, if the guy hadn’t been picked out to help him with the investigation. Maybe he’d overreacted?

He didn’t want to apologize. He hadn’t wanted to apologize. Ashton sure as hell hadn’t mediated his tone when he’d addressed the guy. From his perspective, a random cop hanging around a crime scene he wasn’t actively investigating, asking questions tended to distract from the investigation. Which wasn’t fair to the murder victim. But neither was division within the ranks.

His hackles had risen with the other man’s outbursts. Ashton lowered them with an effort of will, a moment before the man apologized. The apology helped with the easing, but it didn’t erase what had been said.

”No need for an apology, but it’s appreciated.” He tried for diplomacy with an upheld hand. ”I was the one who started it. I just... sometimes it’s hard to have patience when I’m focused on solving a crime so nobody else gets hurt. And people asking me a bunch of questions and not adding anything bugs me— not to say that’s what you’re doing. And it doesn’t excuse what I did.” Ashton grimaced. ”I mean how else would you learn what’s going on? Let’s start over.”

He held out a hand. ”Hi, I’m Ashton. It’s great having extra help on this investigation. It’s going to get a lot of media attention. We’re going to have our work cut out for us getting results ASAP. Nice to know I’ve got someone on my side who feels as passionately about helping people as me.”

There. That was a lot better than hardassed halfassed apologies and backpedaling. Best foot forward, and all that. Only, after the better foot had stumbled and he’d had to recover and find a new and improved footing, it seemed. Eh.

Shinnick reflected on what had transpired and realised he could have approached the situation a lot better.  He had barely introduced himself before he erupted into a flurry of questions. Maybe it was because he was a senior Sergeant on the CPD only a month ago, more likely he was just long overdue some sleep or at least some quality caffeine.  The victim deserved two focused detectives working the case and not arguing because of his rudeness.


He out reached his hand and returned the handshake.  “I’m Franklin. As this is your case, how do you want to proceed?”

Now that Franklin and Ashton has gotten that out of their system, they could get their heads back in the game.

”Team effort,” Ashton said. ”Let’s brainstorm. But first—“ He nodded towards the body, and started going over what he knew.

”I didn’t work the other case. Another officer, Mellitus, did it. Said the killer was some person obsessed with the Greek Goddess Demeter. Multiple bodies, several found in cars filled with cereal, suffocated. Tributes to the Goddess. Though if they were going that route, they did it wrong because I read somewhere the Gods took burnt offerings, not cars full of Frosted Flakes. But then what do I know about Ancient Greek Myths?” He shrugged a shoulder.

”Right now, we’re just trying to figure out if this guys connected to that, or whether or not this is mutant-related. We were first on the scene and the NYPD is fighting us tooth and nail for control of the investigation. What’s your take on the scene?”

What could be seen of the scene was this: the victim’s nose was bloated and red. He was covered in grape vines with no apparent cause of death. Forensics was examining the body, but the Medical Examiner had yet to do a preliminary report, so it was unclear what the man had even died of. All that was clear was the strong smell of alcohol. Most notably, wine. If asked, the forensics investigators would produce identification for the man.

Middle-aged, blue eyed with brown hair cut military-short. Blue silk shirt under a leopard print fur coat, with navy jeans and a nice watch that spoke of means and opportunities.

Franklin began processing the scene where all detectives should, with the victim himself.  His clean look and style of dress was completely out of place in this high crime neighborhood.  Normally, someone with such a gaudy watch would have been robbed within minutes of stepping out of a cab.  Yet he even had the telltale bulge of a wallet in his pocket. No, this was definitely not a robbery. Detective Drake was probably right about it being connected to the earlier case.

The absence of robbery unfortunately eliminated one possible motive for murder.  On the bright side, a wallet meant an I.D. and that could put them closer to figuring who the killer was.  Franklin turned to the nearest forensic tech, “Can I borrow a pair of gloves?” The tech handed him a pair of bright blue gloves that he stretched over his hands before carefully removing the wallet.  A careful examination revealed $158, the usual assortments of credit cards, an unused condom, and the important New York state driving licence. Franklin turned to Ashton. “He’s 45 year old Benjamin Jones, from Queens.”

“What are you doing here Ben?” Franklin rhetorically asked.  Franklin carefully continued his observation of the victim. There were no obvious signs of externally injury, but the expert analysis by the M.E. would catch anything he missed.  Oddly, Franklin noticed that while Ben’s hair was wet, the leopard coat and grape vines were both bone dry. What was more odd was the fact that the wetness smelled sickly sweet.

He removed a flashlight from his pocket and began looking around the alley.  He spent the next couple of minutes searching abandoned cardboard boxes, trash cans, and even the dumpster but was still coming up short.  Franklin raised his voice loud just enough for Ashton to hear. “I’m not seeing any bottles besides the usual assortment of liquor. Do you see a source for the wine?”

A brief search turned up a wallet and questions. One could almost read the man’s mind by the steps he took, the way he noted one thing and then another. Franklin had noticed the wetness on the man’s scalp, the wetness that didn’t apply to his coat.

Why would there be wetness on ones hair and not on their body, if something were dumped? At least a little would have splashed onto the man’s clothes. Unless he were toweled off, or for a handful of other reasons, but it was worth thinking about.

Franklin’s search didn’t turn up any wine bottle. To Ashton, it seemed like the young detective was pretty good at his job. He wasn’t tramping around the scene and stomping on evidence or leaving fingerprints on the body, at least. When he spoke to Ashton, the man was forced to speak his mind on the matter.

”Good catch. I think we ought to check security footage from nearby shops after the ME is done here. It may give us some clues as to what happened to the bottle. Or if someone took it. He said.

He had a gut feeling. This wasn’t a robbery. The man’s stuff was all there. The hair was wet, but not the clothes. Maybe he hadn’t been wearing the coat when he’d been doused? There were no signs of struggle. No broken fingernails or blood. That signaled to Ashton their either the man hadn’t been aware of his attacker or their efforts, or else his guard had been down. Maybe he had known his murderer? That’s what his gut told him.

—

The ME arrived a couple minutes later. He confirmed that the man had died from alcohol poisoning. The man had vomited, but he’d been cleaned up. Ashton and Franklin hadn’t checked his teeth. The body had been dehydrated, and the skin was more clammy than it should have been in this weather, even after death. The examiner’s temperature probe told him the victim been dead about three hours.

“Honestly, you both should have noticed the things of blue around his lips.” The ME harangued them. “Even if it was somewhat normalized by the bit of red lipstick on his mouth.”

”Lipstick,” Ashton said. He thanked the ME for that little detail.

((OOC I can take us to get video footage in my next post. I’ve got an idea of a couple of plant chicks in the footage with the guy.))