Elian (wao_summerby) wrote in wandsandorder, @ 2008-02-14 22:25:00 |
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Current music: | Bush: Body |
Entry tags: | elian summerby |
Who: Elian Summerby, multiple corpses (most specifically that of Steven Dobbs), mentions of various NPCs and Vicky Frobisher.
What: Eli looks over several bodies and makes a few discoveries.
Where: Morgue, St. Mungos’
When: Thursday, 14th February, late morning onwards
Rating: R
Status: Closed; narrative; complete
O’Connor barely looked up from her desk when Elian walked in, though somehow the files she shoved at him managed to find their way into his hands without much trouble. He wasn’t sure if this was due to her aim or the fact that, really, no matter what anyone else had said he’d managed to not completely suck at Quidditch. This had proved useful when he’d first started at the morgue and realised that Aine O’Connor was far more likely to throw things at someone than she was to pass it.
“Few corpses there for you, pet,” she said, quill scratching on the parchment in front of her. Her eyes flicked upwards and she added, “Those kid murders. You heard about them yet?”
“Aye.” He drew the word out for a long moment, shifting the files in his hands slightly, pushing them so the paper that was visible from the side disappeared into the folder. “How have they been here? Anyone else look at them yet?”
“They’re dead. That’s not going to change.” O’Connor rolled her eyes at the slight scowl on Eli’s face and then said, “I’ve looked over them, but it’s yours seeing as you’re ten minutes late for shift. Get in there and get to work, Summerby.” She turned slightly away from him, full concentration going to the paperwork in front of her and Eli was rather sure she hadn’t even caught his nod.
Turning on his heel, he left the office, flipping open the files and scanning through them, noting the names: Capper, Dobbs, Tierney, McKinna, McFadden, Leonard. Only two males in them, the oldest and then the most recently deceased. Elian noted with some surprise that O’Connor had scribbled a few notes about the bodies and hadn’t just left them there for him. Entering the morgue proper, his head lifted and Peterson instantly jerked his thumb towards the bodies, lined up.
“They’re in alphabetical order,” Peterson said, the usual snide tone in his voice when he said that missing.
“Thanks.” The files were placed on the sideboard and gloves were pulled out, snapped on. Shrugging his blazer off and tugging on the uniform, Summerby fished his wand from the pocket of his trousers, clutching it tightly in one hand. Before he’d even approached the bodies, he’d put up wards and murmured charms to put the bodies in a stasis, of sorts. They were deteriorated, of course, and some of them had been dead for a while. It was easy to tell simply by looking at them, by being close enough to smell them. It didn’t take long for the stench of death to cling to every pore on a human body and the smell absolutely clung to some of the kids lying on slabs in front of him.
Mouth twisting, his wand cut through the air and, within moments, he’d estimated time of death, and definite dates. With another flick of rowan wood, the bodies were rearranged by date: Tierny on the 23rd, McKinna 29th, McFadden and Leonard on the second of February, Capper the fifth and Dobbs on the eleventh.
“There’ll be more on the most recent,” he murmured to himself, moving towards the lone male of the ground. Out of habit, his fingers snapped the gloves against skin as he approached the body and, turning the sheet that covered him down, Elian summoned Dobbs’ file.
“Alright, then. Steven. Missing for a few days. Sister found him and the others. Bugger. Not pleasant.” One part of his brain had managed to process that the surname, the sister’s name, were both familiar but he pushed it aside for the moment, his wand in one hand and a Quick Quotes quill hovering in mid air near him, transcribing every word out of his mouth. There would be one day when he managed to tweak it so only the relevant information was taken but it had never seemed to be on the top of his list of priorities.
“I know your sister,” he said, leaning over the body. “Hmm. I don’t think she mentioned much about you, though. We moaned about work instead. Aye, she’s a lovely woman, your sister. I’m sure you were a lovely bloke. Boy. Does it matter?”
“Summerby—“
“Peterson, bugger off. I’m working.”
“You’re talking to dead children.”
“And you’re making me want to hex you. We’ll both have to deal, won’t we?” Brown eyes lifted from the body in front of him and he stared levelly at Peterson, waiting for the other man to nod before returning to his work. Merlin, but sometimes he hated trainees.
“Right, well, cause of death is simple enough. Breathing and heart rate stopped and the boy died.” A flash of white-blue light emitted from the tip of Elian’s wand, aiming towards Dobbs’ chest and for a moment the pallor of his skin glowed blue before turning a vaguely yellow colour. A nod of the head and Summerby reached for the syringe resting on the equipment tray. His wrist snapped and the body turned itself slightly and the syringe was stuck into the veins at the very bottom of Steven’s back, just above his buttocks. There was a moment during which Elian wondered if he’d have to draw blood from another source but the syringe filled up nicely and when he took it away, he’d more than enough to do what he needed to do.
Passing it over to Peterson he murmured, “The charm told me it was a drug, rather than a poison, and that it was still present in the blood but to determine what it was, I’ve to draw blood and analyse it.” He tugged the trainee forward, bending half over and slowly enunciating the words of the spell used to determine what was in the bloodstream once bloody had been drawn. “You can’t do it when the blood’s still in the body, because otherwise you get the greatest load of crap coming back. It has to be an isolated sample. I’ll get it prepared and then you can do the spell, aye?”
Peterson nodded and Summerby turned away. He worked quickly, the act a routine and the only time he slowed was when Peterson stood beside him, his wand clutched tightly in his hand.
“What if I mess up?” Peterson asked, attitude having completely dissolved. “These are kids, man. What if I cock it up?”
“Then I’ll kill you,” Elian said simply. “Now just do what I told you.”