Just a GPSL NPCs (birthrightnpc) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2020-12-22 22:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | jd cartwright, npc |
Instinct
Who: JD/NPC Doherty (Written by Jess)
What: Follow Through
Where: Las Vegas Police Department
When: Present
Ratings/Warnings: Medium, mention of violence, death, crime scenes
Robert ‘Rob’ Doherty sighed deeply as he poured lukewarm coffee from the chipped glass carafe into his used Dunkin’ Donuts cup, the outside stained with a dried brown streak or two from spilled liquid. Low chatter filled the precinct’s break room, a humming background noise he never really noticed until it was gone. The police officer thought of the phrase ‘burning the midnight oil, and they might as well have been referring to the quality of the office coffee.
He wearily made his way through the busy maze of desk jockeys out on the floor until he found the office he was looking for. Doherty made a half-hearted show of knocking on the door frame before entering. “I want to question the lawyer one on one,” he said, by way of greeting. One good thing about JD was that he didn’t insist on bullshit formalities or small talk, nor did he subscribe to office politics. “In the Henry case.”
JD glanced up from the file he was reading, pushing it back onto his desk as he stretched his leg out beneath it. He’d heeded the Chief’s warning and resisted going to the offices of Porter, Schram and Skye, instead waiting until they had more information on the cause of death, still not confirmed by the coroner. That, and a pile of other cases that were related to shootings and a few stabbings, along with the two new ‘mystery’ cases involving victims who were linked through a mutual interest in the occult had him frustrated and more than a little fed up.
“Why’s that?” he asked, keen to hear what the other man had heard that had piqued his interest. “Other than the guy’s one of the sleaziest solicitors in town,” he added, his disdain clear in his voice.
“Did you hear what happened to one of the partners, John Schram?” Doherty stepped fully into the office and nudged the door closed behind him, washing the semi-rhetorical question down with a bitter sip of coffee.
“Successful lawyer kills himself at his fancy law firm? The talk is he and Roman Skye didn’t exactly see eye to eye.” He gestured to the chair in front of JD’s office, a silent request of permission to sit.
JD nodded slowly, another case that had some unanswered questions. The coroner had recorded the death as a suicide, the text messages sent just before he met the pavement at high velocity, and the lack of contrary evidence having leaned the decision that way. But JD had felt some slight unease at that decision. The disruption on the dead man’s desk, plus a set of partial prints that were not John Schram’s on the cell phone that had apparently hit the pavement a while before the body were just a few details that JD hadn’t been able to explain in his head. The DNA collected was useless, a solicitor’s office full of it from clients, other staff and anyone else who might have legitimate business in the building.
“He’s a nasty piece of work,” JD said, referring to Skye. “I was at the Rabbit Hole a few months back, got to see him in action,” he continued, remembering the display the man had put on.
“What’ve you heard?”
The police officer sat, dropping his body as quickly and carelessly into the chair as one might treat something heavy and worn. As far as Doherty was concerned, his body was nothing much more than a vessel that carried around his locomotive brain that flew through a tangled network of thoughts, burning too hard and too fast. “Basically, Skye was an asshole and Schram went along with it because he was sort of pathetic. Not earth shattering, I know, but it’s interesting.”
Doherty resisted the urge to tilt the chair back ruminatively. He was pretty sure all the furniture in the precinct pre-dated the Nixon era. “I think I can trip this guy up one on one. I think no one’s ever really...challenged him before.” He didn’t talk like this with anyone else on the force. It was too philosophical, he’d get laughed out of the place. But JD listened, and his instincts were good.
JD listened, and rubbed at his chin, the scratchy sound of stubble making him stop and sigh. “That would be nice,” he nodded, leaning back on his chair as he looked at Doherty across the desk. “He has a much higher opinion of himself than he should. Might be worth a few calls to his old offices in Cali, get some lowdown there, make sure you’re fully armed with just who he is,” he suggested as he slowly rocked forward again and came to rest his forearms on the folder on his desk.
“Yeah, I’ve already got some idea about that,” Doherty chuckled, a sound that came out somewhere between a throaty cough and a laugh. “Let’s just say the Skye family is no stranger to Google. Nouveau riche.” His expression was one of clear disdain. “Got his law skills from mommy and social graces from dear old dad, as far as I can tell.”
The paper mug was brought to his mouth once again. Maybe sugar and cream would have been a smart investment, but he wasn’t about to make a second trip down the hall. “That place, the Rabbit Hole. It’s kinda, you know...out there, right?” Doherty had never been, had only heard rumors from some of the more open-minded among them. There were just some things that didn’t get talked about in depth, but were understood to exist with tacit nods and euphemisms.
JD nodded and grinned. Given the nature of the bar it wasn’t a location he promoted amongst his colleagues, having been introduced to it by his uncle back when he’d first started learning about the type of clientele who frequented the bar. It had taken him a good while to melt into the background as a ‘regular’, get to know a few other ‘not-so-regular’ faces, and not attract attention. Between there, Seventh Circle, and a few other underground venues, he’d learned more about what went on on the streets and in the back alleys of Sin City after dark than in any other place on the Strip.
“Definitely not the kinda place you take your sweetheart for an anniversary,” he joked, leaning back into his chair again. His smile faded and a frown replaced it. “It’s neutral territory inside, but the street outside?” He shook his head. “You want to be damned careful what you say and do as the protections don’t stretch that far.”
“The Henry scene was way too clean,” Doherty groused, rubbing his jaw slowly. “Guy was in perfect shape, didn’t smoke, drink, or do drugs. He looked like he just fell asleep and didn’t wake up.” The frustration and curiosity were plainly evident in his voice. He hated the lack of answers.
“If weird shit keeps happening around us, and we’re not supposed to talk about it...how are we ever going to solve anything?” he asked JD, shaking his head. Then, he lowered the volume of his voice and leaned forward. He was putting a lot of trust in the detective, saying this out loud. “Sometimes I wonder if there aren’t people around here who are benefiting from us burying our heads in the sand.”
The Henry case had been one JD hadn’t taken a really close look at since the warning by the Chief, and he knew Doherty was taking care of it. He trusted the man to pick up the details. As he nodded slowly, acknowledging Doherty’s comment his eyes traveled sideways to the monitor on his desk. “What does your gut tell you so far?” he asked, as his fingers clicked on the keyboard and brought up the case file then reached for the hard copy in the pile in his ‘active’ tray.
“It tells me that if somehow Roman Skye was involved...there was probably someone else doing the work for him,” Doherty mused, meeting JD’s gaze steadily. “Skye isn’t the type to get his hands dirty. And with his resources and connections, it wouldn’t be hard to find someone. A cleaner. Especially not in Vegas. But why one of his own clients? The Henry guy paid him, free and clear.”
JD’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Rob and concentrated on what he was telling him. “Given we don’t have a clue what killed him, that’s what we need to figure out first, the why,” he voiced quietly. “Who is the vic? Henry. Why was he here in town? Was it business, or pleasure? Did he know Skye already, and came to town to see him, or did he come to town, and was picked up by Skye as a client?” As he ran through the list his eyes scanned the autopsy report, taking a note of who the medical examiner was. He figured he couldn’t get in too much trouble from the Chief if he looked into that aspect of it. At least not yet.
“What do you have on Henry so far?”
“Out of towner, religious type who lives with his own family and a few others on a plot of land just outside Moab, Utah. They have some kind of religious offshoot, something little and obscure. Doesn’t seem like the type to come to Vegas, but who the hell knows anymore?” Doherty shrugged. That was all he had from the top of his head at the moment.
“You know, part of me is glad for this distraction,” he admitted to JD. “Christmas is, uh, not fun for me.” He glanced away toward the detective’s bulletin board. “I’m from New York, originally. Used to live out there because my older brother and his people lived nearby. It was nice working with family. He was a cop, too.” The other man paused, chewing on the inside of his lip. “They died in a house fire on Christmas day. My brother, my sister-in-law, two nephews.” He cleared his throat somewhat raggedly. “So the less I think about that, the better.”
As JD chewed over the details on Henry he listened to the other man open up, and was a little surprised and a touch embarrassed by the details. Mainly because he hadn't known them before, he usually got to know his team pretty well, but Doherty had only been with them a short while, so there hadn't been the time. Or as JD chided himself he hadn't made the time of late.
"That sucks," he offered, his detective brain asking the next question before he had a chance to stop it. "What happened?"
“The official cause was faulty wiring, compounded by the smoke alarms not being functional.” Doherty sighed audibly, looking up at JD. “They all slept right through it. Most likely died from smoke inhalation. Something didn’t feel right to me. It wasn’t that I was refusing to let go...I mean, yeah, maybe a little, but don’t all grieving people?” He looked at the detective as if to challenge him to say otherwise.
“My brother was investigating a deadly string of local arsons. Whoever was behind them was never caught, and the fires stopped...right after my family died, JD.” Doherty squeezed the arms of the chair he was sitting in. “That’s why this bugs me so much. I know what it’s like to have something happen to someone you love, and not only do you not get the answers you’re looking for, it feels like people are actively getting in the way of you finding any.”
JD nodded, only too familiar with the feeling, it was the same as him trying to get some closure on the still unidentified driver who killed his mother. "I'm with you on that train," he told Rob, his own voice quiet. "How long ago was it?"
“Nine years ago,” he told JD. “Might as well have been nine minutes ago, for how well I’ve dealt with it. This may come as a surprise to you, but uh...I don’t take the best care of myself.” Doherty chuckled darkly, finally giving into the urge to tilt his chair back and cross his arms. He could hear the furniture creak in distress beneath him. “I’m here to solve crimes, and when it’s over, it’s over. That’s what I’ve decided. I don’t sit around and fantasize about retirement.”
Robert nodded at his own statement, glancing out of the window behind the detective’s shoulder, and seeing only them reflected there. “I fantasize about what I’d do to the person I imagine. I imagine a real asshole. And I’d like him to be scared, when I meet him, but he probably won’t be. A guy can dream, right?”
“Yeah,” JD agreed, inhaling deeply as he nodded. He did keep himself fairly fit, mainly because it helped keep the aches and pains at bay. “So you’re pretty sure it was at least arson, if not murder,” he asked, head angled slightly. Nine years was a long time, and also a mere blink of the eye when it came to getting to the bottom of a ‘cold’ case.
“That’s what I feel. 100 percent, gut instinct,” Doherty confirmed. “My brother was obsessed with an arson case, and he dies in a fire before he can make an arrest? It doesn’t feel right.” He jabbed a finger against the case file on JD’s desk. “And this doesn’t, either.”
JD nodded slowly, looking down at the Henry file. “Tell you what, you follow that gut of yours and check into why Henry was here. If you need to talk to folk in Utah let me know. Meanwhile I might make a few enquiries about this arson business in New York, see what flags it throws up,” he suggested. Sometimes a different pair of fresh eyes might see something that was missed, it happened all the time. “And if you come across anyone trying to stonewall, let me know that too.”
He sat back in his chair before adding, “and you’re coming over to mine on Friday. The old man and I haven’t decided where we’re going yet, but you’re welcome to join us, if you can put up with shop talk.”
“Can I put up with shop talk?” Doherty asked sardonically. “It’s the only kind of talk I know. Consider me there.” He gave JD a quick-flash smile before heaving himself out of the chair. The officer grabbed his coffee. “I’m going to lean on Henry’s wife, I think. I spoke to her on the phone.”
Doherty paused, then nodded at the detective. “Thanks for letting me bend your ear. I’ll keep you updated.”
"Anytime," JD replied, "and thanks, for trusting me with your, you know, family stuff. It isn't easy to talk about. 'Specially round this time of year."