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Post by Jordanna on Feb 14, 2006 0:07:25 GMT -5
As usual, Henry Casselton was the first to arrive at the mortuary, just before dawn. He picked up the newspaper from the front steps, unlocked the door, and then paused in the foyer to look at the paper's headlines. His blood ran cold as he saw Miriam Van Linden's picture on the front page. Medical Examiner Sought In Morgue Slaying
The body of 24-year-old Gordon Spake, a night clerk at the New York City Medical Examiner's Office, was found beaten to death outside the office's headquarters early this morning.
Police are searching for 32-year-old Dr. Miriam Van Linden, an assistant medical examiner, as a "person of interest" in connection with the crime. Early reports indicate that Spake had recently exposed Van Linden as a mutant, and that Van Linden had made threats yesterday before walking away from her job. The newspaper slipped from Henry's hands, and he closed his eyes. He offered up a wordless prayer--and in almost the same instant, it was fulfilled. "Henry..." He looked up with a start. Miriam was standing in the doorway to the visitors' parlor, looking more pale and worn than even he had ever seen her. "Miriam!" He rushed to her, reaching out to take her in his arms--but she flinched slightly and drew back, discreetly putting a hand on her left side. "You're hurt!" "Only a little." There was a strange, raw-edged tone in her voice. She laid her head on his shoulder and accepted his now more cautious embrace, and he could feel her shivering. "That flake Gordie Spake called me last night, just after I talked to you. He told me he was a mutant himself, and he wanted to show me the autopsy report I couldn't get yesterday. I went to meet him... and he tried to kill me." A pang of grief coursed through Henry, and he held Miriam more tightly, stroking her hair. "Oh, my dear." "I... I killed him, Henry." She stifled a noise that sounded like a sob. "It's in the newspaper. The police are looking for you. Why didn't you go to them, and tell them what happened?" "I don't know. I was afraid." Miriam swallowed hard. "They're going to find my fingerprints on the pipe I hit him with--but he had a knife." "The paper didn't mention that," Henry breathed. Miriam drew away from him, meeting his gaze. He knew they were thinking the same incredible thought. Miriam closed her eyes and turned away. "He must have been one of them. After he found out I was a mutant and might have known something about Tiernan's murders, he was told to kill me... and when that didn't work..." "Someone altered the scene of your self-defense, to frame you for murder." Henry tried to grasp the enormity of such a plot, and failing, he shook his head. "How is this possible?" "It's more than possible. I made it easy," Miriam replied bitterly. "After the things I said to Greenburg yesterday, they'll be able to paint me as a vengeful psychopath, who killed the man who outed me as a mutant." Miriam retreated into the parlor and sank down on the sofa. Henry sat down beside her. "How did he hurt you?" "It's only a scratch." There was that strange tone again. Miriam briefly put her face in her hands, then looked up at him wearily. "The only person I can think of to turn to is Miss Dawson." She chuckled humorlessly. "I'm starting to feel sorry for the work I'm putting her through." "I'll call her." Henry hesitated slightly. "You'll be alright, won't you? You won't... go anywhere?" Miriam smiled ruefully. "This is the one place in the world I know I'm safe." With an unhappy nod, Henry left her and went to his office. He dug up a phone book, found the number for Grimalkin, Inc., and anxiously made the call.
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Post by Jordanna on Feb 15, 2006 20:55:28 GMT -5
After making the call to Regina Dawson, Henry hurriedly put on some coffee to brew in the office kitchen, then went back to Miriam in the parlor. She had apparently retrieved the newspaper, and was reading it grimly.
"I've called Miss Dawson," Henry told her. "She's on her way here. Now I think you'd better stay in my office, out of sight, until we get this sorted out."
"Yes." Miriam rose slowly--perhaps rather reluctantly, and still favoring her left side--and dropped the paper on the coffee table. She followed Henry to his office, an elegant, comfortable space decorated with enough authentic Egyptian artifacts to populate a small museum.
"I'll have to mind the staff as they arrive, and let Miss Dawson in through the back door." Henry placed his hand briefly on Miriam's shoulder. "I'm so sorry for... for all of this."
"So am I," Miriam replied, in a quiet, tired voice, and sat down to wait.
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Post by skybright on Feb 15, 2006 21:06:07 GMT -5
One of the best things about early mornings in New York, Daws reflected as she ascended the steps from the underground station, was that the subways actually ran on schedule if you took them before 8. She pulled her fedora down lower, raised her collar, and made her way rapidly towards Casselton Mortuary.
The building had the sombre, somewhat artificially comforting facade she'd expected -- funeral homes were all the same, really. She ducked down the narrow alley between the Mortuary and the building next door and rounded the back of the building.
There was only one back door, with a sign reading Ring For Deliveries above a worn doorbell. She didn't like to think about just what 'Deliveries' would normally entail.
Daws checked the alley briefly -- there was always the off chance that someone'd followed her or Doctor Van Linden -- but saw nobody. Satisfied, she reached out and pressed the doorbell.
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Post by Jordanna on Feb 15, 2006 21:14:34 GMT -5
Henry had been hovering in the rear hallway, waiting for Daws. The moment the doorbell rang, he unlocked the door and opened it.
Miriam had described Daws to him previously, so he had some idea what to expect. He gave a slight blink of surprise at seeing her in the flesh, but that was all.
"Thank you for coming so quickly, Miss Dawson." Ever polite, he shook her hand, then turned briskly to lead her down the hall. "Miriam is in my office."
As Henry and Daws came in, Miriam looked up from her dejected slump in a deep leather chair. She rose quickly--too quickly--and winced slightly, putting a hand to her side.
"Good morning, Miss Dawson," she murmured ruefully.
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Post by skybright on Feb 15, 2006 22:18:23 GMT -5
Daws frowned in concern at that wince, and she crossed the room quickly, removing her fedora as she did so. "Morning, Doctor. I'd ask how you were doing, but I think it's pretty obvious." She gestured disapprovingly at the hand that Doctor Van Linden held to her side.
She glanced over her shoulder at Henry Casselton. "Mister Casselton, have you got a first aid kit around here somewhere?"
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Post by Jordanna on Feb 15, 2006 22:36:56 GMT -5
"I don't need it," Miriam replied swiftly, in a tone that was strangely hard and defensive. She closed her eyes and turned her head away, and then uttered a deep, slow sigh.
Reluctantly, she bared the left side of her rib cage, revealing what at one time would have been a deep and ugly stab wound--but was now a fading scar that looked several days old.
"Something has changed," she said softly.
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Post by skybright on Feb 15, 2006 22:49:48 GMT -5
Daws half-chuckled and shook her head. "Understatement of the week, Doctor." She said gently, squinting at the newly-formed scar tissue.
"Still," Daws added musingly, "It's not unheard of, developing a new mutation -- knew a guy once who was a straight telepath for thirty years, until he woke up one Thursday and could suddenly fly on top of it. And empath-telepaths seem to tend towards healing abilities . . . ." She broke off with another halfhearted chuckle.
"Anyway, so long as you're not bleeding to death any time soon," Daws sank into one of the deep-seated leather armchairs, "Maybe you oughtta tell me exactly what happened last night. I didn't have time to read more than the headline before I got Mr. Casselton's call."
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Post by Jordanna on Feb 15, 2006 23:09:03 GMT -5
Miriam sank back into her chair, glancing at Henry. He knew that her powers had seemingly been changing; he looked extremely worried, and obviously wanted a further explanation, but he remained silent for now.
"After I left you and Mister Malone yesterday, I went back to the M.E.'s office," Miriam began, turning to Daws. "I wanted to get the Rosenstein autopsy report, but I never got that far. Our chief, Doctor Greenburg, called me into his office. To make a long story short, I lost my job, because somebody had outed me as a mutant. I think it was Spake--he saw me have one of my visions yesterday morning."
She sighed heavily. "Spake called me at home later. He told me he was a mutant himself, and he wanted to help me get my hands on the autopsy report--and I was dumb enough to believe him. I went to the office to meet him at eleven... and the minute I was through the door, he pulled a knife. We ended up in the alley... and I hit him with something. A metal pipe."
Miriam hung her head. "When he died... I got more from him than his last memories. I can't explain it. It felt like I... drew some kind of energy from him." She put her hand on her side. "I think that's what made me heal."
Henry, who had been sitting on the edge of his desk and listening intently, swore under his breath.
Raising her head, Miriam looked up at Daws again. "When I left the scene, Spake's knife was still lying beside him, with my blood on it. I don't know what happened to it--but judging by the newspaper, the police didn't find it."
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Post by skybright on Feb 15, 2006 23:36:55 GMT -5
"Yeah, and they won't, either." Daws sighed and shook her head. "Listen, Doctor, I think there's something you've gotta understand, here -- both of you." She glanced at Henry Casselton, who regarded her keenly. Daws ran a hand through her hair.
"The New York City Police Department is not all made up of bad guys. There's good cops, and okay cops, and even mutant cops. But the Department itself is rigidly anti-mutant, mostly 'cause it's working off of rules that were written seventy years ago. It isn't just that the Police Department isn't your friend, Doctor -- the Police Department, particularly now, is your enemy.
"I think we can safely assume that whoever engineered Spake's attack on you also assured that any evidence making his death a self-defense case is permanently gone. Without evidence -- particularly in a case like this one, with a recently-outed mutant involved -- the Department won't even pause if you plead self defense. They'll wait just about long enough for the ink on your statement to dry -- and then they'll book you for murder. So if you get caught," Daws looked pointedly at Doctor Van Linden, "You're going to go to prison."
She gave that a moment to sink in, then continued. "So the main goal right now is you not getting caught. That means, as-of right now, completely avoiding anywhere you were ever known to frequent -- apartment, shops, restaraunts, everything. That means doing something to change your appearance, if you can swing it. And that means being downright paranoid about who you trust."
Daws leaned forward. "New York's a big city, Doctor, and I know a thing or two about hiding in her. But, if you prefer, I could arrange to get you out of town, instead. It's up to you."
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Post by Jordanna on Feb 15, 2006 23:59:23 GMT -5
Henry opened his mouth, but Miriam spoke before he could, firmly and resolutely. "I'm not leaving."
"But Miriam!" Henry protested softly.
"If I run away, everything I've gone through will be for nothing--and Tiernan will go on destroying lives." Miriam shook her head. "I'm going to keep fighting, Henry. No matter what."
Henry sighed. Then he nodded somberly.
"You can at least lay low until Spake's death is out of the news. I can take you to my house tonight, and you can stay there as long as you need to."
"I suppose I don't have much choice for now." Miriam glanced at Daws. "What about Malone? I wanted to help him, and I don't want him to think..." She trailed off inadequately.
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Post by skybright on Feb 16, 2006 0:10:35 GMT -5
Daws did her best to look reassuring. "Don't you worry about Malone, Doc -- I'll let him know exactly what's gone on. I think I've got him pegged well enough to say that he won't think badly of you."
Daws cleared her throat. "I know I'm certainly impressed. It isn't easy to stand your ground against something like this. And I know I've said it before," She extended her hand, "But I'm in it with you, for however far it ends up going."
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Post by Jordanna on Feb 16, 2006 0:28:31 GMT -5
Miriam grasped Daws' hand firmly.
"I just don't know what more I can do now," she said aggrievedly. "Without access to Tiernan's victims, I can't gain any more information... and I'm pretty useless for anything else."
She smiled sadly. "But now I just--need to rest for a little while. Spake's last memories... They hurt much more than what he did to me with that knife." A small shudder passed through her.
Henry rose to stand beside Miriam's chair, putting his hand on her shoulder. He looked up at Daws. "I'll take care of her. And if there's anything else I can do..."
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Post by skybright on Feb 16, 2006 0:39:37 GMT -5
Daws winced in sympathy for the other woman's experience -- she still didn't relish the idea of seeing someone else's thoughts, final or otherwise -- then glanced up at Casselton.
"I appreciate the offer, Mister Casselton. I think the best thing you can do right now is keep an eye on the good Doctor. Also," She added, "Alex Malone and . . . well, and myself too, I suppose -- are going to need to arrange for a funeral. And, well," She shrugged one shoulder and half-smiled, "It is what you do."
She looked back to Doctor Van Linden. "Don't beat yourself up over this, Doc. You've already shaken things up by bringing me into this whole thing -- and Tiernan's going to have a lot of trouble over that, I promise ya. You did what you could -- now just lay low for a while, and let me do what I do."
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Post by Jordanna on Feb 16, 2006 0:45:19 GMT -5
Miriam smiled in weary gratitude. "Thank you."
"I'll be expecting the Rosenstein family's call," Henry put in. "I'll do what I can to help them, and you. We appear to need all the friends we can get right now."
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Post by skybright on Feb 16, 2006 0:55:47 GMT -5
"That's always the truth." Daws nodded, squeezed Van Linden's hand reassuringly, and then stood and donned her fedora.
She held her hand out to Henry Casselton. "I appreciate your help, sir. Take care of her -- and I'll be in touch."
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Post by Jordanna on Feb 16, 2006 1:03:11 GMT -5
Henry shook Daws' hand, thanked her, and saw her out--once again through the back door, as his employees had begun to trickle in. Then he went back to his office and Miriam.
"Try to sleep for a while," he urged her. "We can't get you out of here until everyone is gone tonight. I'll make sure no one finds out you're here."
Miriam nodded and laid her head down. She wanted to sleep... but she knew her dreams would not be pleasant ones.
"Poor child," Henry murmured, and slipped out of his office.
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