Guess Who is Coming to Dinner-(Doc)

[Doc]

Brown’s admission that his parents had been victims of a double homicide, made Doc roll his eyes. “Look.. Brown. It’s not a secret, they ******* hated each other behind closed doors. If it was murder suicide .. just ******* say so. My guess, the old man went too far this time and killed her.” He paused, “Their DV file was more than six inches before I left home at age 18. I understand it only got worse, not better, once I wasn’t there to be the punching bag anymore.”

[Dominique]

Please note that the part of Lt. Rick Brown is written by writer of Dominique

It wasn’t like this was the first time rick had this sort of response. Usually though it was not from someone who likely knew more about why people did fucked up **** like he saw a couple hours back than even he wanted to know. His hand reached for the paper and looked at the guy's name that he was talking to.

It really didn’t matter what field he was in. Feet, assholes, new set of tits or one of those internal types that could likely tell him why he was a walking acid and flatulence machine for the last two months. He knew it was probably was his ex wife and her stressing him out. The ***** was on his last nerve. That all went out of mind when he listened to the guesses of the next of kin as to who did who in while offering up several reasons why he thought so.

“So, you had some first hand knowledge of domestic violence between the deceased and were subject to it as well?”

Rick is quick to reach for his pen and grab some paper. He wouldn’t start in on the formal questioning that is routine for next of kin. Perhaps the guy is just rambling and purging his pent up feelings of growing up less than perfect like the neighbors thought. Grief was different for everyone. He scribbled the information down then used the hand holding his pen to pull at the cuff of his shirt to glance at his watch. Jesus time was flying by. He needed to eat and get this guy in the station to help wrap this up.

“When can we expect to meet, Dr. Nilson? I have a few questions I would like to ask that will assist us determining just exactly what happened.”

[Doc]

Doc’s hyper-attention was starting to turn once more into impatience. He wanted to rip Lt. Brown a new one. ****. The last thing he needed was a sympathetic cop offering him counseling over his ‘traumatic upbringing’. He started counting again. Brown had completely overlooked his question. It was clear Brown wasn’t about to give him any more information over the phone. But still there was that nagging thought, that his mother was behind this, and not really dead. He could imagine her saying ‘I simply asked my Lt. Friend to make a call.. I have no idea what he said to get your to change your mind.’

Doc pulled out his cell phone and dialed his mother’s phone number. On one ear he heard Brown saying once more he needed to speak to him in person, on the other ear, his parents phone continuing to ring. The maid should pick up. He flicked his wrist as glanced at the time. No it was too late for the maid. He let it continue to ring.

“And just why do I need to be there in person?” His voice skeptical. “And if it is necessary, I am presuming I can send you the bill. It is the holidays, flight have been sold out for weeks. I am going to have to charter something; or drive all ******* night. Which.. being a cop.. you should know is not good when a family member has had bad news and has been up for hours…”

Doc didn’t care about the money.. he wanted to make sure his parents were ******* dead, and not his mother ******* him over to get him home for the holidays.

[Dominique]

Please note that the part of Lt. Rick Brown is written by writer of Dominique

Rick dropped the pen in his hand. Clearly this guy had no huge tears to shed over his sudden loss but Rick may if the doctor wasn’t enroute within the hour. Next of kin usually are on the road by now. What the hell was the asshole looking for...an invitation? His mother didn’t get one when she was pushing his *** out on a table in the delivery room. Then the unexpected was mentioned. A bill for travel expenses? His thick fingers scratched at the top of his head. He was pretty much at the end of his patience.


“Listen, it is the holidays for everyone...except your parents. You understand they are dead, right? Hallmark is closed so we won’t be able to get that embossed invitation with the gold foil liner in the envelope like we usually are happy to send out by special courier but just for you I would like to request your presence here in lovely Ontario.”

Rick would need to chew some Nicorette gum or something so he didn’t lay this prick flat out on his *** when he set eyes on him. These were the types that made it all too easy to be written up.

[Doc]

“Exactly. They are dead. So why do you need me?” The question was out before he thought about it. The cell phone still continued to ring. Alright They might very well be dead. Or at a Christmas party. He disconnected the cell phone. “****.. Do you know what the wife is going to do to me.. Do you? Any clue? I never introduced her.. now they are ******* dead. And I have to go to Toronto over the holidays.. and leave her .. In charge! I have to ‘leave’ all of a sudden, and she has to cover my shifts for me? She’s not going to believe me. I am so ******* screwed.” He sighed.

[Dominique]

Please note that the part of Lt. Rick Brown is written by writer of Dominique

Rick was already gliding back in his chair sending it into a roll only to shake the divider behind him. He hated cubicles. It was ******* ridiculous to be boxed in by felt covered panels that were perched on wheels that could move and regroup anywhere .

“I got an idea. You, your wife and your plans for the holidays pack up and head this way. You are in luck. If they wouldn’t approve of her like mine didn’t of my ex at least you are getting off easy. They won’t have much to say about it when you introduce them. It is a win no matter how you look at it. Now that it is settled we will see you soon. I have a few calls to make because that is my job. I have two deceased who clearly didn’t do it to themselves and I have to find out how the **** they got that way. That is where your trip to Ontario makes all the sense in the world asap. Over the river and through the woods in Santa’s sleigh if need be.”

Yes. If this was going to get to be anymore of a pain in his *** then Charles Nilson was going to be asking some fat jolly man for a new set of his front teeth when he got done with him. Where the hell do these people come from? Rick knew he was no prize but this guy he was talking to was asshole of the century. Who tries to get out of dealing with their parents being murdered on Christmas?

[Doc]

Doc could have explained that he couldn’t bring the Ball and Chain because one of them had to be on call for the Asylum, because.. of ******* Freddie. Doc could prescribe the meds over of the phone, but he or she had to be the one to administer them. He could not leave that to the Penguins to handle, and he had given the Nurse the holiday off.

Raking a hand through his hair, “If I have to come up there.. you’re picking up the bill, and you’re making the hotel arrangements. And the last ******* thing I am doing, is bringing the Ball and Chain, she’s on call. Merry ******* Christmas.” Doc hung up.

[Doc]

It had been one major clusterfuck after another, from the time Doc hung up the phone with the detective, to arranging the last minute ‘holiday’ fare and boarded the chartered flight to Toronto. A chartered flight, that by the way, the cops were going to ******* pay for, at that. But could he get in touch with Cytherea? No. Could he get in touch with his new employee to warn her that he was unexpectedly leaving town? No. Cytherea was probably holding ******* Freddie’s hand while he snoozed. God, her empathy for the looney toons rankled him to no end at times. Especially when it was ******* Freddie. So He had to leave Harper Rock without letting anyone know.

The flight wasn’t that long. Only ninety minutes, but it was full of turbulence and shuddering, to the point that Doc thought the plane was going down a couple of times. He had thought Mortll’s driving was bad.. **** him, he could sleep while Mortll drove now.. because nothing was worse than that flight. The pilot explained it had to do with high pressure and low pressure, warm front and cold fronts converging, but Doc didn’t ******* care. He wanted to be on the ground. Sooner rather than later, until the pilot made a quip “Oh, I am sure the weather can make it sooner.. but I would rather it be later…” At which point, Doc took the cue to shut the **** up and went back to his seat, where he drank three fingers of whatever alcohol the stewardess brought him.

Granted he couldn't taste the alcohol, but if he drank enough of it.. it might actually make him loosen up some. He had just nodded for the Stewardess to bring second’s when his phone buzzed, indicating he had a text message. His first thought was ‘**** will getting a text take down this plane? If So I am going to will myself to stay the **** alive so I can kill whoever the **** just texted me.’ Granted, he should have listened to the Stewardess and turned off his phone, but at least it gave him something to focus on, apart from the jostling sometime nosediving plane ride.

It was Chub texting him, wanting to know if she could see him. She had a present or something. Try as he might, to push her off without giving her any details about what had transpired, he was unsuccessful, she was not one to be deterred. Finally, with his patience waning, he gave in and told her the truth. The he had to go to Toronto to answer some questions about his parents murders.

Did that elicit any sympathy from her? **** no. Chub then commenced to chide about him the murders, as though he were guilty, and berate him for leaving clues. He would have laughed at her comment if the flight had been smoother, and he had been able to brief Cytherea about his unexpected trip. But no, he was not in the mood, so when he read her comment ‘We talked about this.. you’re not supposed to leave evidence’, he had to reply right back that he was ******* innocent. To which, she replied ‘oh’ which he took to clearly mean, ‘I don't ******* believe you.’ He was about to castigate her over it, when she daintily and prettily asked if she should go keep the ball and chain company.. since it was.. Christmas and all. An offer he gratefully accepted, and grudgingly told himself silently, that she had just redeemed herself, for thinking him guilty.

Those thoughts were brushed aside as the pilot came over the intercom and informed him, they were second to land behind a big jumbo and that they were circling Toronto. Finishing the second drink quickly, probably too quickly, He prepared for the landing. Fifteen minutes later, the private jet was taxiing to the disembarkation point. The best thing about that flight, was that it was now almost over.

Though the flight was over, Doc’s mood had not improved. He didn’t like, not being in control, and as a passenger, he definitely was not in control. Having both feet on terra firma once more, Doc grabbed his cell and called the Detective. He needed a ride to the station, or wherever the **** they were supposed to meet. Doc had shelled out the money for the plane, but that was where it stopped. The detective wanted to see him.. the detective could drive his *** over to the airport and collect Doc himself.

[Dominique]

Please note that the part of Lt. Rick Brown is written by writer of Dominique

Lieutenant Rick Brown was exhausted. He had went to the chief to see if it was a joke that the next of kin could expect lodging, transport and whatever else his heart desired. Once the chief was done having a nearly two minute laugh over what he shared with him about the bizarre reaction to Dr. & Mrs. Nilson’s brutal passing it was confirmed. Rick was stunned as hell. It seems that there was such a thing.

Rick could believe it in the cases of those who were financially strapped for the cash to arrive on short notice from god knows where. Dr. Charles Nilson likely made more than all those he could spot moving back and forth in the station as he left the chief’s office. Great. Now he was promoted to being a ******* travel agent. There was only one thing to do. Patty. Not literally do Patty but to stop by her desk. She would take care of it.

“How is my favorite station secretary?” The question arrived with the annoying knocking of a set of knuckles on the desk where he found the redhead on the phone. “Need your help when you are free. I will be in…” Rick looked around and realized that Patty actually had a better setup than he did. She had actual walls and a door. It never hit him till that moment. Perhaps because he was always out on the streets or on location of the crime scenes that kept him away a good portion of his job from the station. “**** it. I will be waiting right here I guess.”

Rick shrugged as if he could use the gesture to remind himself that he was okay with the fact he was wearing a badge and the secretary had his office. Patty held up her charm bracelet adorned wrist and stuck up her index finger. Thankfully the jingling of the family themed charms signaled she was done as the receiver of her desk phone found the black base.

“I was on the phone.” The swivel desk chair spun around to have the ten years of seniority secretary staring at him. “When are we going to get this figured out, Rick?” She folded her arms across her barely there chest and waited for some smart *** comment to come from the one she counted on to deliver it. “I am working. I am not at your bidding. Just because my office door is open doesn’t mean I am not taking care of something.”

“Listen, if I had the time to do this I really would. I know the man at home is a nice guy and all that but I can’t keep telling you off and make you feel better.” He slid into the chair that was free and propped his elbows on the less than sturdy arm rests that were available. “I need you.”

“You are the neediest asshole I know, Rick.” Patty knew she was right. “So, what is it now? You need fifty bucks until Friday? Gas money? Want to send the ex flowers just to piss off the nice guy that keeps her happy?” She closed an open file then slid it into the white plastic organizer on the right corner of her desk. “I miss Matt. He was the best partner you ever had and he actually knocked before he came into my office.”

“Yeah, nice one. Want to kick a little harder next time because right now it feels like one of my balls is still dangling and intact. Getting soft, Patty. What happened to punting without fail?”

Rick was losing steam. He sighed then rubbed his face. His greasy mug needed soap and a hot rinse. He knew it was not going to happen if he had to be the one to call all over Toronto. It was the holidays after all. It was hard enough to find somewhere during the year. The chances of finding the last available room in some inn just to appease the prick due to arrive anytime had the promise of a snowballs chance of lasting in hell.

“I have an asshole flying in shortly. The chief says we actually set up lodging for them if they piss and moan loud enough.” His hands slapped together and the long fingers locked so they stayed that way. “I need your help. If there is a hole still available anywhere I know you can find it.”

A knock on the doorframe behind him had Rick turn to check out who was trying to swipe Patty’s attention from the current duty he was trying to delegate to her. It was the chief himself. This was not his night at all.

“I figured I would find your *** in here.” His thumb was hiking over his shoulder signaling Rick to lift up and start hiking. “Your buddy the doctor is going to be arriving and will need you to pick him. I suggest getting a move on it and wear your festive grin. I heard he can be a lot of fun if you piss him off.”

“I am already working on finding him a place to stay, chief.” Of course Patty was winning her brownie points picking up the phone and evading anything further to do with Rick.

“You need to get your **** together like Patty.” The chief was was nodding for Rick to move it. “And if she doesn’t find anything guess where the hell the guy is going to be staying to keep him happy?” The sound of six coins and a wad of paper currency could be heard jingling and rustling as he followed his boss down the hallway to the elevator. “I mean it. Don’t ******* ruin my holiday, Rick.”

“I ******* hate this ****.”

Rick was disgusted that he was just dismissed from the station secretary’s office. Not only that but he was essentially told to snap to it like he was some dog expected to take a **** before its master finished their cigarette on the porch of the house.

“Yeah, me too. Merry christmas, Rick.” The elevator doors parted.
“**** that. He is not staying at my place.” Rick stabbed the B button to reach the underground parking. “All I am saying…” He hiked his hands up to rest at his beltline on his hips. “And another thing…” He stepped forward feeling brave. “Where the **** is my office, huh?”
“Once you unlock your car door and sit your *** in the seat then you will have found it.” The silver doors closed before he had a chance to get in his last words.

The ride over to the airport was rather relaxing. So he found that he had a mobile office. Once the irritation wore off and the Rolaids had cured the *** fire that was erupting earlier he was feeling pretty good. Maybe this guy wouldn’t be so bad after all. He did just find out his parents croaked on Christmas. He was a busy guy, professional too. Maybe it was just how he handled himself around his office. Yeah, that had to be it.

Rick parked and jogged into the airport flashing a badge here and there to make it through the checkpoints and security without being delayed more than he needed to be. He was tired, hungry and smelled like he missed the showers he would have taken by now. After a few questions at a desk he found where Dr. Charles Nilson would be. As soon as he set eyes on him he knew then and there he was fucked. Time was wasting away. He walked up because there was a couple ginsu corpses that were getting stiffer by the minutes that passed without proper identification.

"Dr. Nilson. Lt. Rick Brown." He reached out his hand without thinking about it to greet the guy. "I appreciate you making it here on such short notice and under these circumstances. My condolences."

[Doc]

Please note that the part of Lt. Rick Brown and Chief Brick Duvane is written by writer of Dominique. Dr. Eli Olmstead is written by the writer of Doc.

"--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--"

Doc: Doc heard his name, drawing a long slow drag off his cigarette, before letting the vapor escape out of the side of his mouth. He dropped the cigarette, crushing it underfoot, reached into his front breast pocket, withdrew the bill for the last minute flight, and slapped it into the Detective’s outstretched hand. He didn’t bother to answer the detective, as it would be a lie. And there was one thing that detectives could sense, and that was insincerity. Doc also knew that speaking in any fashion could be used as evidence against him, should he rely on testifying in the future. The less said the better.

Dominique: Rick was holding a piece of paper in his hand and left hanging there like an idiot. The son of a ***** actually was giving him that bill he spoke of on the phone. His long fingers curled up and slid it into his breast pocket for safe keeping. He was saving the amusement for later instead of giving it a look over while the guy is obviously acting cooler than he would be if he took at look at it now.

“You are welcome. Follow me.” Rick was quick to start hoofing it towards baggage claim because even those used to traveling had to bring along enough to change their shorts and socks. Now that he thought about it, his certainly needed changing. “Baggage claim.”

Doc: Doc hid his irritated smirk at the detective’s passive aggressive ‘thank you’ and hasty retreat, as though the detective’s pace made his actions all that more important. It didn’t. Doc reached down and picked up his briefcase and leisurely followed the Detective at his own personal pace. The Detective was not going to force him to hurry. Stopping beside the detective, Doc nudged him, looked pointedly at the gray high end leather luggage bag that came down the shoot. In turn, Doc clasped his gloved hands together, under the overcoat that was carefully and neatly draped over his arm. He stifled a yawn.

Dominique: Rick watched the various pieces of luggage move down the black conveyor belt. Once the bulky items dropped into the metal carousel the process of reuniting traveler with their respective baggage took place. The gathering of leather and imitation knock-offs ride in a circular route while he observes quietly. That is of course until he is elbowed and he finds it is none other than the doctor himself trying to get his attention.

Rick could read this guy’s personality like a book. He was sure there was deeper chapters than he was taking in from the surface but that would take a little more time than he had currently to reach. For now it was all about getting out of the packed airport. A gray leather suitcase came into his view and he rubbed the stubble on his chin while chuckling lightly.

“One time while I was switched departments to help train a few recruits I had a chance to bust up a knock-off ring pedaling rather convincing counterfeit designer bags and luggage.” He slid his hands into his pants pockets because there was no way in hell he was entertaining the doctor in carrying his baggage around for him. “I can tell you right now unless you watched that piece made at the factory itself you got screwed. Count the seam in the outside. The pattern alone in the stitching probably was done by some over worked ******** in the sweatshops who couldn’t see its *** from its head anymore.” The sound of a kid crying caught his attention then he looked at his watch. “I will get the car and pick you up outside.”

Rick disappeared and left the good doctor with his baggage moving like it was on a merry-go-round. He had a rolling office and a badge that said he was no bellhop. If he picked up anything it would be a body unable to move itself. Nothing more and nothing less.

Doc: Doc calmly waited. He didn’t care whether his luggage earned its pedigree or was a cheap knock off. It held ******* clothes. What did he care if it had a legit label on it or not? He didn’t. What he did care about, was some ******* respect. Being dictated to, that he had to drop what he was doing, and do the bidding of some unknown detective on a holiday, and having done so, he deserved that much. If the detective refused to get his ******* bag, Doc would get it, and he would carry it and himself right back to Harper Rock.

As the Detective blatantly ignored Doc’s luggage, that was all Doc needed to know. He had come to Toronto; he was brushed off, and now he was leaving. Doc straightened his shoulders, moved over to the carousel, collected his bag, turned on his heel, and walked back toward the plane he had just disembarked from. He paused briefly to re-don his overcoat and pull out his cell phone. He tapped a few buttons, calling the pilot that he had arranged to fly him to Toronto. He figured the pilot who was already making double time, would love to get back to Harper Rock for the Holidays, getting paid for five hours was like candy to a baby. What the pilot didn’t want was an extended stay in Toronto, until he found a return fare.

As he waited for the pilot to pick up, Doc plotted the few choice words for the Detective’s Chief once he was airborne. It was bad enough that he was ‘ordered’ to appear in Toronto, on nothing more than the ‘word’ of some detective, but then to have the detective berate his luggage and patronize him. **** that. It was no wonder the Murder/Homicide Clearance Rate (or Murder Solve Rate) reached a new historic low, leaving Toronto's shattered families as the victims in a Toronto Police policy travesty. They only closed 60% of cases. Well with Detectives like the one that he was dealing with, it was no wonder.

Dominique: Rick was looking at the dashboard of the car and wondering what in the hell was taking the guy so long. Would he be so anal retentive that he was still inside at the carousel counting the stitching on his luggage to see if he was pulling his leg or not? A sweep of the cuff of his shirt pulled up revealed the face of his watch. Time was up. ******** was making him wait too damn long. The driver’s door opened and he was about to step out of the car when his cell phone going off gave him a reason to pause standing up.

“Lieutenant Brown.” He barely finished answering when the chief was breaking his ear drum with a rant of what had him waiting in the car for a no show. “What the **** do you mean he is gone?!” He hopped out of the car and looked up at a plane overhead coming in for a landing. “I ******* heard you the first time.” He slammed the door to the car and caught the attention of airport security standing at the curb. “That son of a ***** seriously just flew in and back out over the fact I wouldn’t carry his bag like I was his baggage *****?” A baggage handler next to the airport security also within earshot and looked his direction. Rick glared and pulled out his badge. “You two mind your own ******* business, will ya?”

Rick hopped into the car and slammed the door for the second time. He switched to his bluetooth and fired up the engine on the car. He sure as hell had no intention of chasing the flight down with his official use car that needed gas now that he looked at the dashboard.

“I want every asshole in Harper Rock with a god damned badge waiting for that ****** when his plane lands. We aren’t looking at a grieving next of kin. We are looking at a ******* suspect. A prime suspect. No one arrives in town then turns on their heels without leaving the airport to make an ID or to see just what the **** happened to their parents.” Rick growled and punched his thumb on the horn sending it blasting when a airport shuttle bus tried to pull into the merge lane in front of him at the last minute. “Get a hold of a judge. Subpoena may be needed. He may need the invitation to comply and to get the message his *** is in hot water. I knew this asshole was trouble from the moment I talked to him. We need to get the deceased assets frozen and tie up anything he can get his hands on. I want to know if he has been aiding in anyway at managing their care, life in general or paying the chick that was taking out their garbage after they expired. In fact find her *** too. She is not to go anywhere.”

The chief was still barking at Patty who obviously was in the boss’ office when Rick finally ended the call. Dr. Charles Nilson likely had resources to move quick and make things go his way with or without his parents help. Who was to say he was not hopping flights and heading out of the country? What a ******* mess this was turning out to be. It was a good thing that it was in times like these that Rick Brown earned his reputation and his paycheck.

Doc: The Pilot finally picked up the call and informed Doc, that weather had moved in, and instead flying out immediately, they needed to wait for a break in the currents. Doc felt that if the Pilot wanted to wait, based on the rough flight over to Toronto, then by god they would wait. The pilot was already on top of filing a return flight plan, and all Doc had to do was, to get his luggage aboard. At the chartered flights desk, he tipped the luggage steward generously as it was tagged and set aside to be put aboard.

Once the return flight arrangements were in process, Doc had nothing else that he needed to do,.. except call the Detective’s superior. After a brief, yet succinct description of the detective’s insulting behavior, Doc let the Chief believe, that he was already on his way back to Harper Rock. Doc never actually said that. It was rather abstractly, inferred; he couldn’t be blamed if the chief jumped to the wrong conclusion, and thus ripped the detective a new one,.. now could he?

Tucking his cell phone away, somewhat pleased with himself, over ******* over the asshole cop, he had a few hours to kill before they would be wheels up. So, in the meantime, he decided he would go check out the parents house, also known as ‘the crime scene’. Not wanting to leave a trail of witnesses, like taxi drivers and the like, Doc used celerity to get from the airport to the 639 Alpine Drive. Crime scene tape decorated the front of his parents house. Coalescing into Shadows, he stared at the house as though trying to conjure up some sort of feelings. There were none. Being a Shadow he gained easy entry into the home. Who knew? All these years he cursed about his lame ******* powers, and now they finally paid off.

Dominique: Rick hit the showers in the station locker room. He rarely used his locker anymore since his job changed from street patrol and was promoted up to homicide. The casual look was going to have to do for the time being while he had to be bothered with chasing down his current suspect. He closed the locker door and was about to head up to Patty’s office when he got the call he was hoping for.

“Got the papers to ask him questions and they will be holding him as soon as he lands. Anything of value including the mail dropped off in the mailbox at the house now has a hold on it so we are covered there as well. I got checks going on any policies or things we may want to keep an eye on including wills. His passports have been tagged and flagged. He is not going to get very far.”

The chief had his game on just as Rick expected he would. Now they were ready to get their hands on this guy and get him to start talking. A chase was always fun but he had no patience in playing tag with someone who could easily be gone with the blink of an eye. There were places abroad that suspects like Dr. Charles Nilson could hang out and still live the life that he appeared to be accustomed to.

“Good. I don’t want this son of a ***** getting away and comfortable. If he is responsible he is going to be regretting it for a long ******* time. Knock off leather is going to be the least of his ******* worries. I want him banging out the dents in the license plates that get caught in the press and end up looking less than perfect.” Rick was about to end the call when the chief spoke and left him stopping dead in his tracks up the station’s east stairwell. “Repeat that?” Rick’s jaw clenched and his eyelids squeezed tight. “Why the **** do I have to go? I was heading back over to the residence and then to see Eli and the bodies.”

Three hours later Rick Brown looked out of the window next to his commercial seat while the plane he was in finally landed in Harper Rock. This was the last place he wanted to be. He should have stayed with the guy at the carousel. Part of him albeit a really small, barely there part, regretted not picking up the piece of **** luggage and decking him with it. He would have not had a chance to get away then.

“I hope you enjoyed your flight and Happy Holidays.”

The cheerful female voice was left behind as Rick stood up and tugged his carry on with him into the narrow aisle of the small plane. Now he was the one heading through the terminals and towards the car rental booth where he would pick up the keys to god knows what so he could travel around the snow covered city. He was prepared. He had a file full of numbers, names related to business and personal that Dr. Charles Nilson could be traced to. The brief flight gave Rick more than enough time to get his list of contacts and places of interest to hit organized by relevance to the case he was on.

Doc: Doc spent ninety minutes looking over the scene of his biological parent’s death. It had been bloody and violent. He stood behind the chairs that were facing the fireplace. These had been moved, and recently, based on the dented patterns in the carpet. Whoever killed his parents had staged the scene. He knew the bodies have been in the chairs based on the blood voids. Why stage the scene? Why the fire place? What was the killer trying to say?

Doc didn’t know what he had hoped to discover by seeing the scene in person, perhaps scents? But there had been too many people prowling and pawing over the scene for him to be able to key in on any one scent. In fact, the scent that was most overpowering were the chemicals that the police had used in their investigation of the scene. Perhaps it was the scent of luminal or some other blood fluorescing compound, but whatever it was, it killed his thought about being about to get a scent of the murderer. So other than finding out it was bloody and violent, he learned nothing. Next stop, the morgue, he needed to see the bodies.

Once back at the airport, Doc took a taxi to the Toronto City Morgue. He didn’t care if he left a paper trail here. It would be understandable. He had flown into the city to ID his parents bodies, and since he had the time, he might as well. It even gave him a perverse sense of pleasure to know that he was able to accomplish that goal without Dicky Brown hovering about. Waiting at the morgue front desk, he was surprised when an older man came out to answer the bell that he had rung.

Eli was tired. It was Christmas, and he had two dead bodies still unidentified and doubtful that they would be, because the next of Kin flew home. He was not a young man anymore. His body couldn't take the long hours of being on his feet. And he had been here for three extra hours, that he could have been sleeping, waiting on the next of kin. So to say Eli’s mood was sour, was a very fair estimation of the fact. Just as he was packing up to leave, the bell at the front rang. Now what? Eli tiredly made his way to the reception area, to find a well dressed man waiting patiently. “Can I help you?”

Doc recognized that look of sheer weariness on the older man’s face. This man had had a long day, and Doc was about to make it longer. Knowing how the man felt from experience, Doc chose not to be antagonistic. He offered his gloved right hand to the man, “Dr. Charles Nilson, I am here to identify my parents.”

Eli took the man’s offered hand in confusion, shaking it briefly before saying, “I was told you left the city?..”

Doc looked at him, with a quirked eyebrow. “Really? Why would I arrive and leave without coming here first? Who said I left? That really is quite extraordinary..”

“Rick.. he called and said.. “ Then Eli stopped, and waved his hand, “No matter, I must have misunderstood. It’s been a long day. I’m Dr. Eli Olmstead, Toronto Coroner. If you will follow me..”

Doc fell into step beside Dr. Olmstead, “Olmstead..?”

Eli nodded, opened a door and gestured for Doc to precede him, “After you…”

“The Eli Olmstead that broke the Toronto Ripper case in ‘88 by IDing two perpetrators from one drop of blood?”

Eli’s face broke into a slow tired grin. “That was nearly thirty years ago..”

“Yes, but it was pioneering work. DNA was still in it’s infancy and you ratcheted it up, by your discovery. Well done.”

Eli waved away the comment, “All in a day's work my lad.. all in a day's work.” He paused as he turned the discussion to Dr. Nilson’s parents. “My condolences, Doctor.” He pulled open a drawer that held the body of his father, and then he opened the drawer next to it.

Doc stared for a moment silent. There was the ********. Gray, cold and dead. Then he turned his gaze toward the next body. He gave a visible start at the sight of her. He knew it had been violent, but he had just presumed it was all focused on his father. Her body had been washed free of the dried blood, but the cuts and lacerations still covered her. Doc had not expected that.

Having to clear his throat, Doc finally spoke, “Yes those are my parents.”

Eli had seen the Doctor’s reaction to the sight of his mother’s body, and he was relieved. This man had no idea what had happened to her, it was clear by his reaction to her. Eli was about to speak when he saw the Chief standing in the doorway, he must have witnessed the viewing as well. “Ah.. Hello Chief, we got our wires crossed, it seems that Dr Nilson did not leave Toronto after all. Dr. Nilson, this is our chief of police.”