This is my Seventeenth NCIS Mystery and the sixth of my Second Season. This series takes place roughly during the fifth season of the televised series, with liberties. The list of stories was getting so extensive I moved them, with synopses, to my profile.
The first portion of "Have Yourself A Merry" took place a few days ago, the main body of that story still to come. We pick up this narrative two days after the end of "Autopsy Atrocities".
The usual disclaimers apply. Please Review.
Thank you to Zephyrfox for the inspiration for this story, and guidance along the way.
Thank you to Ozgeek for the exposition of McGee's Rules. It's good when we can maintain FanFiction continuity.
Rating: T or NCis-17. Death, Intrigue and Mystery.
Pieces
By JMK758
Chapter One
Burns
Margaret tumbles through the open car door into the night, clambers to her feet and dashes across the intersection as she desperately tries to reach cover that's mercilessly distant. Too late she realizes she should have gone backward from the car to reach a row of trees, though it makes no difference. Though coatless, she doesn't feel the December cold; the chill in her blood is fear.
There's no traffic on the four-lane avenue this late in the night; she bites back a curse for she'd use it for cover if she could. There's no cover. She has no gun. She runs across the first lane, the second, hears a loud bang! Painful impact in her back knocks her to the asphalt.
Margaret feels such agony she can't feel the injuries from the skidding fall. 'He shot me!' she thinks as she tries to crawl away.
Pain fills her world, she can't get up, her right arm won't move, but she reaches into her left pocket and pulls out her cell phone, deeply sorry not to have her gun. If she had it... She feels wet warmth spread over her back from the center of pain as she holds the 9 button down with her thumb.
"911 Operator, what is your emergency?"
"I've been shot!" she gasps, coughing a spray of blood onto the asphalt. It spatters on the phone.
"What is your location?"
She tries to pick her head up, to fight the pain, to focus on a street sign. There's one high up, far before her, barely lit well enough to make out. She hears the car stop behind her. She can't breathe, chokes on blood, coughs up another red spray.
"N Stree-" a loud bang drowns out her word and the impact slams into the middle of her back. She has no chance to scream her agony; the pain is gone so quickly. She never feels the third, fourth, fifth or sixth bullets.
x
"911 Operator; caller, are you there?" Martin Garbie, at his emergency board, hears the sound of a car withdrawing, then nothing. "Are you there?" He hears distant voices increase in clarity as they draw near.
"Did you see that?" a man's distant, almost inaudible voice demands.
"Oh my God!" a woman cries, her high pitched voice sounds closer. "Is she dead?"
"Someone call 911!" another man's voice urges, this time closer still.
"911 operator," Garbie says, "can anyone hear me?"
"Do you hear that?" a new woman's voice calls.
Garbie repeats his call, a few seconds later hearing indeterminate sounds, followed by "Hello?"
"911 Operator," he says to the unknown man.
"There's a woman here in a Navy uniform. She's been shot. I think she's dead."
"What is your location?" Martin Garbie opens another communications line. Washington Emergency Regulations dictate any number of contacts depending upon the nature of the emergency; MPDC, Fire, EMS, FBI. There are also provisions for whenever one of the Uniformed Services is invoked.
xxx
Tony DiNozzo pauses on the way in from the kitchen, dish in hand, to turn on the CD player. The ethereal flutes accented by light percussions accent the air as he enters his living room and puts the plate down on the table before his companion. Horns and strings join the melody as she looks up at him, a smile on her lips.
"Oysters Rockefeller," Ziva David observes, a knowing twinkle in her eyes.
"Only the best," Tony assures her.
"They are famous for enhancing the libido."
"Really? I hadn't heard," he assures her as he lingers beside her chair.
When Ziva had accepted Tony's dinner invitation she looked forward to whatever Tony would cook up. It is very clear he has more on the heat than dinner.
Of course, if he plays his chips right, he might be a winner.
"What else do you have?"
"Surprises," he assures her, bending close.
"I think I love surprises," she assures him. Her lips touch his.
x
The meal is delicious, all it had promised and at its end Tony decides to make his advance. His eyes communicate to the woman his intent, she does not demur.
Standing, he closes the distance, hands on the arms of her chair not quite confining her, but their touch is interrupted by the cell phone on his desk. "I don't believe it," he says, his lips a quarter inch from hers.
Across the room, in the pocket of her coat, her cell phone begins its summons. "I do."
"I'll get them."
"And have them think we are together? I do not think so."
His kiss is far shorter than he'd hoped before he pushes himself upright and crosses the room, snatching up the offending device.
xxx
By the time Tony and Ziva arrive in separate cars from different directions, the intersection of N Northwest and New Jersey Northwest is crowded with a mélange of vehicles. Neither of them wants to consider the unfairness of the post-shift summons, not with this much activity on the scene. Police cruisers are closest to the white shrouded body, NCIS official vehicles and agent's private cars form the outer perimeter.
The street is not only illuminated by halogen streetlights but accented by rotating and strobe lights of every hue and intensity. The cold is enough to limit the spectators, but Police keep those curious enough to brave the weather at bay while admitting only those authorized to be on the scene. Four people are sequestered on the sidewalk far to the right.
x
Dr. Donald Mallard crouches on the balls of his feet, regretting the need to switch his warm gloves for thin latex. He pulls back the white shroud just as Leroy Jethro Gibbs steps up beside him, asking his most frequent question;
"What've you got, Duck?"
"A craving for a medium rare steak which, thanks to a very inconveniently timed phone summons, had to be returned to the freezer."
"Sorry about that. I doubt she planned it that way."
"No, of course not, Jethro," he looks down at the right turned face of the dark haired woman. A spray of blood spreads beyond the top of her head, extends from thick smear into a mist which grows too diffuse to be seen in the irregular light. More blood is on her mouth and chin. "I dare say someone interrupted your dinner far worse than mine. Now we must determine who."
The woman wears an Ensign's uniform, the other distinguishing feature of the shoulder epaulets being the Oak Leaf insignia of the Navy Nurse Corps.
"What can you tell me?"
"Well, in temperature that hovers in the low 30's at best, I see no sign of a coat, gloves, hat nor scarf. She has 6 gunshot wounds to her back, none of which were inflicted at very close range or there would be visible GSR on her uniform. I am, of course, not ruling out microscopic traces I am certain Abby will have no difficulty in finding. In this temperature, body heat will diminish quickly due to ambient and contact temperature, but I shall endeavor to get you an estimate of the Time of Death."
"No need." Ducky lets his expression carry his question. "She was talking to 911 when she was shot, they have the whole thing taped." He checks his watch. "Twenty nine minutes ago. Emergency Services got the call at 2026 hours, the rest of the shots were fired seconds later."
x
Satisfied, Ducky continues his own report. "Judging by the visual evidence alone, which I must of course rely upon until proper photos are taken in addition to those taken by the Police, the first wound was below her right scapula, too far to the right to strike the heart. It bled quite profusely as you can see. The blood spatter upon the ground here," he indicates the expanding spray which spreads from above her head into invisibility, "and from her mouth indicates her lung had been punctured."
"Metro PD says she was holding her cell phone when she died, there's blood on it and one of the witnesses got some on his hand when he handled it."
"The second wound is here," Ducky continues, "quite a few inches below the level of her heart and there is limited bleeding from that wound. At this point I would conjecture it to be the cause of death. These other four, near and surrounding the heart, were inflicted post mortem. As you can see, there is relatively little bleeding from them. I would say what you have here around each wound is the result of oozing, her heart had already stopped pumping by the time they were inflicted. When I get her on my table in the morning I shall be able to give you a more accurate determination."
As if summoned by his words, the MCR truck threads its way between the other cars on the four lane road. Agents Braverman and Allyn get out of the cab.
"McGee, get the camera," Gibbs turns to Braverman, "There were four witnesses, you two take those two over there," he indicates the more distant man and woman. "DiNozzo, you're up." He leads the agents across the street, choosing for himself the man already identified to him by the police as the one who'd spoken to the 911 operator. "Paul Johnston?"
"That's me," the tall, blond haired man acknowledges.
Gibbs introduces himself, displays his IDs and leads the man a few feet to the left so they may speak without interruption. The other three witnesses are similarly scattered. "Tell me what you saw."
x
"We were back that way," Johnston indicates N street where it adjoins New Jersey, "just out for a Sunday stroll, walking and talking, you know, when this woman jumped out of the car at the light. She started running across the avenue."
"What kind of car?"
"I don't know. I don't know cars, maybe Harry will know," he glances to his friend, being interviewed by Allyn. "Anyway, she starts running across the street, didn't even look like she glanced for traffic, though there wasn't any I could see either. I noticed she wasn't wearing a coat or anything. I didn't know why she was running. I was just about to point her out to the others, I don't know what we could've done but I was going to suggest doing something when an arm comes out of the driver's window and 'pop', she goes down hard.
"She just passed the first lane, when we heard the shooting we ducked down behind a car. The car - I remember now, it was black - turns, it came between us and I couldn't see her anymore but before that she was alive. She tried to crawl, I remember, and she got her phone out of her pocket. I heard her coughing, talking, calling for help, then when the light changed the car came around the corner near her. I peeked up and I heard 'pow!' Then I heard 'pow - pow - pow - pow', just like that but I ducked down again, holding Cindy's head down to protect her, you know? Then the guy drove that way," he points up the street from the corner.
"You saw it was a man?"
"No, I'm just saying. I never saw him, you know? Just a head, and an arm sticking way out, from the back, then I ducked."
"But you say whoever it was waited for the light?"
"Yeah."
"Then after he shot her he drove off? Didn't speed?" The lack of speed assures there will be little forensic evidence from tire impressions.
"I guess he didn't want to attract attention. Me, I'd have shot out of there like a cannon if I just killed someone - not that I would ever kill anyone, you understand!"
"Yeah."
"I mean, he just drove away. Cindy, she and I came up first, seeing if there was anything we could'a done to help, but the woman, she wasn't moving. There was blood all over her. Then Jackie heard a voice from the phone and I picked it up, it was 911. There was blood all over the front of the phone, I got it on my hand." He shows Gibbs his latex covered hand, spots of blood visible through it.
"When we've tested your hand, tested the blood, you can wash." He doesn't mention now that the tests will be for gunshot residue.
"Harry lost it in those bushes, I was too busy calming Cindy and Jackie down to be sick."
"Uh huh."
x
A few minutes later the agents assemble to compare notes. DiNozzo's details from Cindy Beaumont confirm those Gibbs had received from Johnston. Special Agent Allyn reports the car as a black Corvette and that Harry Shinn remembers the first two letters of the license, 'B.L.', nothing else was clear in the moment he'd had.
S.A. Braverman's conversation with Jackie Marren was less fruitful: "She wasn't with them, she didn't see anything, doesn't know a thing. She claims she was at a movie down the street but she can't say where, she doesn't remember the title and just happened to run into her friends here after it let out and the woman was already dead."
Gibbs isn't particularly disturbed by this, the three stories they have provide enough for an initial picture, and perhaps Shinn can be helped to recall more of the plate. For now, Gibbs is interested in what the body may reveal.
x
McGee, holding the camera, turns to the others when they reach the taped perimeter. "Her ID says she's Ensign Margaret Burns." He consults his pad, muttering "Missed Rule 28."
"What does Rule 28 have to do with this?" That one is 'sometimes the spouse didn't do it' and they have no idea yet as to who was in the car.
Tim is horrified to realize he'd spoken aloud, his attention on the body rather than his report. "Sorry, sir, my rule 28; it's not exactly a rule, more of a guideline - that is set of guidelines. Tony had brought it up some time ago about each of us having rules just like you do. Mine aren't so much rules, as I'd said, more like -" he finally notices Gibbs expression and Tony's warning look.
"You have your own set of rules, McGee?"
"Err, yes sir."
Gibbs smiles. "Good man."
McGee's quite pleased to have finally said something that pleases Gibbs.
"Well? What's Rule 28?"
"Er, 'the dead person is probably a petty officer'."
"Just missed it."
"What I said." But it's time to get back to work. "I've already contacted headquarters, Higgins and his team's working up a background on her."
"Pity they couldn't have taken the case," DiNozzo gripes.
"Afraid of a little work?"
Gibbs' jibe stings. "At nine on a Sunday night I wasn't looking forward to a new all-nighter."
"Dispatch gave it to us because we were done with Powers, you've been off since Friday." His tone warns DiNozzo continuing would be a bad idea. "Besides, you and Ziva had a good enough time on your date." At DiNozzo's forced innocent expression, he advises "you can't expect showing up from different directions to do any good if you both have the same meal on your breaths."
x
When Gibbs strides across the wide street to where Ducky is working alone, the physician is examining the woman's body with the aid of high intensity lights set up from the MCR van. Ducky's solitude reminds him that someone's missing from his team and he turns to Ziva. "Where's Palmer?"
It is Ducky, back turned to them, who answers, "I've called him twice and have not received an answer."
"I was asking about my Palmer, not yours, Ducky."
He looks back over his shoulder. "They are a set," he points out with a wry smile. "Still, you can hardly expect them. They just touched down today at Baltimore Washington, they are not due for work until tomorrow. Technically, they are still on their Honeymoon."
"Rule number five, Duck: Never be unreachable."
"That applies to your personnel, Jethro, not to mine."
Tonight seems to be the night for independent rules. "Which is it for you?"
"Number one."
x
Gibbs nods curtly to Ziva, not wanting to voice his order. As she pulls out her cell phone, he crouches down beside the Examiner.
Ensign Burns lays face down, her head turned to her right. Her jacket and shirt are only slightly raised, just enough to allow the insertion of a liver probe. Ducky uses a thin silver probe to test the wounds in her back. He's obliged for now to work with the slim probe through her clothing, not raising her blouse in order to preserve any GSR or other trace evidence that might be disturbed if he moved the cloth.
"The wound at her scapula," he points to the spot, "about a half inch below the shoulder blade, was made almost perpendicular to her body, perhaps as little as 85 degrees but the other five came in at a 35 to 40 degree angle." Gibbs looks past her feet; she had made it halfway across the third of four lanes. "Though these last four entered at the level of her heart, due to the angle it was this one," he points to the lowermost one on her jacket, the one with the secondary bleeding, "that actually pierced her heart.
"Perp shot her from the perimeter of the intersection, turned right and came up beside her, shot her five more times and then drove off that way."
"That is consistent with what I've found."
xx
It takes almost an hour more for the last of the police and agents to withdraw. Gibbs helps Ducky load the gurney into the M.E. van driven by Agent Susan Bourne of Fred Higgins' team. They are the last three on the scene.