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.”