Part One – Robbery-Homicide
1
Harry James pushed in and pulled out his hotel key of the automated lock for room 624, and the LED indicator lit up green. He twisted the handle and entered the darkened room. Using the light from the hallway, he searched for the wall key slot used to power up the room's lights. He slid the key in as soon as he found it and flicked the light switch right under the slot. The bedside lamps and the lights above the bed headboard bathed the room in beige light. Harry then grabbed the Do Not Disturb sign that hanged from the door handle.
James pulled up his suitcase next to his unmade bed and began to unravel his suit. He hanged his black jacket inside the closet, filled with many other suits he wore to work. He had one suit that smelled of human particulate from some decomp case weeks ago, but thankfully, he managed to get it to the cleaners before he had his forced leave.
Forced, meaning that he either spend his accumulated vacation days or get his ass kicked out of Robbery-Homicide.
As James loosen his tie, his smartphone began ringing from his belt holster. He fished it out from the leather case and checked the caller ID. It was his partner David Lee.
"Yes, David?" He continued to loosen his tie with one hand.
"You copied the Marcia file from my desk."
"What makes you say that," Harry said sarcastically.
"Because I can tell whether one of my files have been disturbed while I'm away at lunch. Also, Roberts from Cold Case saw you at the copier with the murder book earlier today."
"Ah, shucks, and I though no one would ever know my dirty little secret."
"Har har. Anyway, I'm coming to you. I'm bringing dinner, so that we could eat in your room. You're at the Luxe City Center, right?"
"Yeah. And bring a six-pack."
James ended the call, finished removing his tie, and hanged it on a coat hanger of one of his suits. He rubbed his hands all over his face, sighing from another annoyance on his plate. Usually, he'll make copies of murder books of any case that comes to David and him, in case he needs to study through the records and logs on his free time, to chart through their moves to make the next best one. And maybe, they'll catch one bit of evidence that will make the puzzle whole, making the picture crystal clear. That was unwritten law between James and David, but with David making a fuss about the Marcia file now and bringing a peace offering to him means that law wasn't in play anymore. He was part of the fix, whatever his reason is for making him leave the department for a short while.
James sat down next to his suitcase and removed the murder book from it. He was about to review through the investigative chronology and the recent forensic reports David received since James was out, but he stopped to look at the victim's photo.
Teresa Marcia. Age 35. Famous actress of the stars who made a fine career in crime movies. Her brunette hair flowed in wavy lengths, while her red lips smiled at the camera. It wouldn't surprise her if she was compared to Hedy Lamarr. She had talent, looks, and brains. She was smart enough to save modestly, for herself and her family of two – a loving husband and a five-year-old daughter. With all the Hollywood money she made, she then reserved much of it on investments and a college savings plan. When she retired from the scene, she was last heard finishing up her master's degree in chemistry up at USC.
Then three days ago, she was found in an abandoned lot in Hollywood. She was beaten up, her face almost like hamburger meat. And when James and Lee notified her husband of the awful news, his daughter came up to him and burrowed her face into his leg. It was the silent cries that broke Mr. Marcia and he hugged her, trying to tell her something comforting yet the words failing to come out. All that James and Lee could do was to watch them cry before they could question the husband further.
Not to say that the detectives were cold-hearted bastards; Lee was reminded of his anxiety of when he'll wind up dead one day and his family would suffer the same fate. James, on the other hand, felt a raging fire within him. Call it justice or revenge, but he knew that feeling was essential to the job. It was what gives his mind and willpower a sharp edge in his casework.
It took James and Lee about a day to gather up the victim's situation prior to the murder. Teresa was being stalked by someone. No one in her circle didn't know who was stalking her, not even her own family, but Teresa always made her worries known to her loved ones. Mr. Marcia stated that the troubles started when she received a handwritten letter addressed to Teresa. At first, Mr. Marcia asked her what it was about, but she simply stated that it's private and it was nothing to worry about.
But since then, more letters began to flood their mail, up to the point where she hired a private detective to protect her from any potential harm. James have asked Mr. Marcia if they still had the letters, but Marcia claimed that his wife handed them to the investigator. Using the business card the investigator left behind when he was first hired, James and Lee managed to contact him and retrieve the letters. As if gaining handwritten exemplars and any potential fingerprints for analysis wasn't enough, the letters reveal the fact that it mentioned her alma mater from her high school – Mayfair High School, down in Lakewood. It was a huge find, and that narrowed the search immensely.
What followed next was basic detective legwork - calling up old friends, following up on their movements, and cross-referring them to police records and high school yearbooks, anyone that came into contact with her. An old crush, an ex-boyfriend, even an evolving high school stalker at the time. James had the idea that the suspect may had trouble with the law before – petty crimes escalating to more violent ones. He also doesn't figure this guy was socially confident – the blitz attacks evident on Teresa's face indicated rage to subdue her, not wit or social finesse. Brute force was one of many tells of a disorganized offender. James thought that if the profile was generally correct and one of Teresa's friends matches up with it, then no doubt that put them high on their list, no matter how much of a long shot his theory was.
Harry was on the hunt, the need to find out hidden truths and seek out his prey flowing through his veins. Harry was about to review the medical examiner's full report yesterday, looking with the angle of his theory in mind. He needed to check the autopsy report from Carmen Diaz, one of the best medical examiners in LA County. He knew there was a piece of the puzzle that could help further narrow the search through Teresa's old high school friends. That is until Captain John Kirigaya called in Harry's superior, Lieutenant Jack McQuillin before that could happen. The next thing James noticed was that he was being placed on stress leave.
Now, Harry was reviewing the medical examiner's report from his copy of the Marcia murder book, after going over the whole log for a good thirty minutes. He noticed the lacerations made to the victim's face shown in a blowup photo, but before Harry could examine further, there was knocking on his door. Harry got up and opened the door. Lee was standing there, with his slick short hair and his blue suit. He held a six-pack of Fat Tire IPA in one hand and a bag of In-N-Out in another.
As they were finishing their burgers, Harry wiped his hand and mouth with a napkin. He smashed in into a ball and toss it into the trash bin beside the desk.
"Three points, Kobe," Lee said.
"Piss off, David." James took a swig out of his beer. "How's your family?"
"Same old, same old. Elizabeth got an A on her math test, so that was something."
"Domestic life, eh."
"Yep."
James took out another swig from his drink and decided to lay it out.
"You want the murder book back now?"
Lee looked at his partner with reluctance. "Yeah. Captain said that you're out, and he meant it. He told us that if you go off the reservation this time, it's both of our asses."
"No wonder you're here, defending your angle."
Lee took the insult as it is, though he thought it was nothing damaging. He figured James took the leave the worst, leaving him stiffer than usual. He was a complex man, but even Lee relates to the frustration of being let off the chase, as the prey is coming into your sights.
Yet.
Lee finished up his last bit of his burgers and fries and took a hard, serious glance at James. He knew what he was about to say was needed.
"Listen, Harry. I got to agree with the captain on this one."
Lee looked at his partner. His expression read "Et tu, brute." James sighed and let his partner continue his lecture.
"I know you're a good detective. Damn fine one, even since you joined RHD six months ago. But seeing you going non-stop on these cases probably raises a few red flags."
"Stop skirting the issue, David. I'm fine as it is, and I was fine before Captain took me off the case. This stress leave is bullshit, because I'm just fine and dandy."
Lee put his hands on his hip. "Your body language tells me you're not." He leaned forward and stared at him. "And I still know how you reacted on the Hollywood Slasher case."
James didn't want to be reminded that case. Two months ago, there was a serial killer hunting down random strangers at night in the Hollywood area. There were six victims in total, all stabbed and slashed across the face, all of them blonde females.
One of them, a Midwestern tourist Becky Harrison, looked familiar to someone James knew.
One of them looked like Cordelia.
With assistance from the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, they gathered a comprehensive profile that proved useful for James and Lee to apprehending their suspect in the end, who resided up in the Hollywood Hills area. Lee remembered busting down on the killer's door, with James on point. He remembered seeing the suspect trying to rabbit out of a window, planning to jump down the hill, but James took the suspect by his shirt collar and rammed his body down on the wooden floorboards hard. As James placed the handcuffs down on the killer, Lee can never forget the look on his partner's face – a wolf ready to rip out someone's throat.
"Harry, I'm just worried about you. I feel like if you don't get a break from it all, then you'll snap. And with this Marcia case, with another fallen woman and that broken family, I feel like you'll make it personal again."
James silenty finished the rest of his beer in one go. "Well, thanks for the lecture. Now, I think you better leave. And go take my copy with you. I already saw what you needed for this case." He gently tossed the murder book next to Lee.
Lee wiped his hands with a napkin and took the murder book. "I know Harrison looked like her. And I could understand why you nearly broke our suspect's nose in the process. But if you can't get your mind in check, then the darkness will swallow you whole. And you'll never come out." He gathered his trash and placed them in the paper In-N-Out bag. Lee took the murder book under his arm and gripped the bag in one hand. He dropped it into the trash bin before heading towards the door.
"You could try finding a girl. Start a relationship. Some damsel that could save your soul."
"I'm not looking to be saved by someone. And if you continue to lecture me, I'm gonna kick your ass out of this room."
When Lee was at the doorway, he looked over his shoulder. "Harry, you need a break. That's why you're here. You used to love Gun Gale Online, last time I heard."
Harry didn't say anything to that.
"By the way, what did you discover while you were reviewing the report?"
James walked over to him and took the file from his hands. He flipped the pages to Diaz's report on the lacerations and showed him the blowup photo on Teresa's face.
"Check the wounds. Diaz noticed a bruise pattern on the lacerations." The photos showed a small, faint circular bruise on Teresa's right cheek. There were three numbers within the bruise.
013.
James smiled from the sensation of an ever-closing dragnet. "Teresa graduated back in 2013. Our guy wore a 2013 class ring."
"I'll check on it ASAP." Lee took back the photo and put in back into the file. "Don't worry, Harry. We'll get him. And just take it easy."
James rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing greatly and clearly annoyed. "Fucking bullshit I have to deal with." He went into the mini-fridge where Lee left the beers earlier and took another bottle out. He twisted off the bottlecap and took a long drink.
It was coming close to 10 o'clock when James went outside the lobby out in Figueroa Street. The flashing images from Staples Center reflected off concrete and glass surfaces down the road. He could see the Bullet of Bullets banners hanging from the convention center, with Sinon's avatar being front page like an old-school Playboy ad. James stood on the sidewalk, smoking while listening to "Lullaby" by Frank Morgan on Spotify. The earphones cancel out most of the ambient noise of the Californian freeways. The sax was always calming, and the piano piece was always haunting. It was his comfort food every time he wanted to relax.
He remembered how Cordelia always listened to his music every time they studied together. There was one time where they were listening to the Modernaires singing "Ain't Misbehavin" when they were working on math homework. He remembered gently singing to the song, and when he saw her lightly smiling at him, giving him a wink for added measure. That was one endearing memory of her that James held most dearly.
James took a drag of his cigarette, thinking about Lee's advice, words that still lingered in his head. He didn't picture himself with a woman. He felt like damaged goods. No woman would probably appreciate the kind of burden he's carrying. Also, James can't stay fully committed for long. His mind always drifted back to Cordelia.
Her strawberry blonde hair, and her calming presence.
He whispered her name with a hollowness in his tone, outside the barren street that flicked reflected neon. Once the cigarette was burnt down to the butt, James smashed against his feet and started headed back to the hotel. When he got back to the lobby, he found out that he left his room key back in his room.
"Shit," he muttered under breath. Before he could rant any further, his peripherals caught the glance of the now-closing elevator doors. He leaped toward them. "Hey wait," he shouted. "Keep the doors open, please!"
He was too slow to catch the door, but thankfully the doors opened before they closed entirely.
"Thanks" He readjusted himself and faced the stainless-steel doors.
"You're welcome." James turned to his left. He thought he remembered that voice before earlier tonight.
He saw a petite Japanese woman, right next to the floor buttons. Her brunette hair hanged in tails to each side of her soft, pale face. She seemed like she was blushing. James heard coughing from the back. Behind him were a group of Japanese tourists, all 20-somethings. There was a tall, lanky man with red hair, and a busty woman with short, black greyish hair. In front of them, the one with the spiky raven hair and red shirt was attending to another woman with long, silky chestnut hair having a minor coughing fit. He deduced it was probably the residual smell of cigarettes that made her cough.
"Uh, gomen-nasai? Sorry. I was smoking."
"Oh, it's fine," the spiky-haired man said in rough English.
James flashed red out of embarrassment.
"At least you're considerate." The girl beside him held a small smirk on her face. "Trying to apologize in our language, huh."
"Yeah." A short silence filled the elevator. "So, you're fluent in English."
"Mmmhm. I'm taking English classes back at college."
When the elevator reached the sixth floor, they walked together to their rooms.
While the others were talking in their native Japanese, James took another glance at the woman near him. "You guys visiting?"
"We're here for that gaming tournament down the street. I'll be competing there in three days."
James realized something about her face, and her slim figure, was familiar. However, his mind failed to place a name to her.
"Are you here the Bullet of Bullets tournament too?" The slim woman looked back at him. Her cheeks were a bit blushed.
"Just watching, not competing. I would have been working, but I got a vacation instead. Said I've been working too hard."
"Well, considering from your tone, you need one. You sound like a workaholic."
As they when down the hall, James crossed the aisle and stood in front of Room 624. He fumbled for his key while looking for some retort over the woman's remark. "You sound like my partner."
"Partner? Are you a businessman or a cop?" The woman unlocked the door to her room and let her group through. The red-haired man said something in Japanese, some sort of jeering remark by the mischievous smile on his face. The petite woman jabbed at his ribs, and the smile turned into anguish.
James opened his door and leaned against the doorframe, one arm on his hip. "I am what you think I am. So fifty-fifty on your assertions about me."
"Fine, cop then. You sound too gruff to be a gentlemanly businessman."
"Bingo, and I bid you goodnight." Before he could enter his room, the woman chucked. "What is it, miss?"
"It's funny. I'm actually studying to be a police detective back in Japan." She cupped her chin and smiled at the Asada. Pleasure to meet you." James shook her small hands reluctantly. He'd rather have another beer right now.
Yet.
"Harry James. And what coincidence, miss?"
"I'm studying to be a police detective myself, back in Tokyo."
"Hmm. And I thought a pro GGO player wouldn't need to concern herself with crime. I thought GGO pros earn cash."
Shino shrugged her shoulders. "GGO is nothing more than a fun hobby. Police work is more fun and actually matters."
"How altruistic are you," he said sarcastically.
Shino pouted before she turned her head and peered back into the room. The group were already gathering up their AmuSpheres for a relatively late-night gaming session.
"Well, Mr. James. I bid you good night."
"You too, Miss Asada."
When James shut the door behind him, he went down to his mini-fridge and grabbed his third bottle of beer. As he drank the brew, he thought about Shino.
She seemed nice and attractive, he thought but never said out loud, even though he was the only one in the room. He then linked that to his conversation with Lee.
You could try finding a girl.
"I don't need someone to save me."
That's what he told himself, but Lee had a point. He felt his grip on life was slipping, yet James didn't want to do anything about it. He told himself that's what gave him the edge in his cases. Cordelia gave him that edge, that hollow space inside that kept him true to his detective self.
His mind started to drift between Cordelia and Shino. He found it disturbing, yet hard to shut out of his thoughts.
"I don't need saving, Cordelia. I don't." He continued drinking his beer in the empty room, saying empty reminders.
A/N: AND THEN THEY BONED. But seriously, I grind this one chapter out, and I feel like if I keep writing, I'll have a better handle at it. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, my dudes.