Disclaimer: Everything Law & Order related belongs to Dick Wolf and company, as in the show idea and known characters. But I do own the abstract created characters and plot line.
A/N: About updates…yeah…I'll probably be updating every 3 to 4 days, somewhere in there.
Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, very much appreciated.
Vertigomac: Thanks for the URL, dude. I'll check it out. Glad you're into this.
VampirePrincess86: Thanks for the enthusiasm. It lifted my sprits.
MeWannabe: Glad you dig it, dude.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Elliot knocked sternly on the Chase Apartments' penthouse door.
24C.
Another possible address of the reclusive and elusive Frankie Monty, he'd been a difficult person to track down, every address they had been to so far was a dead end.
Elliot and Olivia had gotten several:
"He lived here years ago."
"No, he's been never been here."
"Sorry. You're mistaken."
"I think you've got the wrong address."
And even a crass,
"Who? I've never even heard of this asshole! I'm late for work now. Thanks." Complete with a commentary finger shot in their direction.
Olivia returned the gesture which caught Elliot off guard, all he could do was laugh.
To be put simply, Frankie Monty didn't want to be found.
Now they stood outside the Chase Apartment Penthouse door, a set of very upscale apartments, the nicest they had been to all day.
After he knocked a dog starting barking immediately from within the apartment, followed by the shrill shout of what sounded like a little boy.
"I got it!"
Quick footsteps followed.
The door creaked open an inch and the two detectives found themselves looking down at a little boy with a worn teddy bear clutched in one hand, most of its fuzz loved off.
"Hi. I'm Ell—"
The kid took one look at Elliot, screamed and slammed the door. The dog began to bark even louder at the new out burst.
Olivia tried to hold back a smile, "I thought you had a talent with kids. How many do you have again?"
"Oh, shut up." Elliot muttered.
"What are you screaming about?" A high feminine voice called from within the apartment followed by the soft patter of bare footsteps.
The door reopened again and the detectives found themselves looking at a young woman in her late-twenties, perhaps. Medium height, with a nice build and enveloped in a sheer fabric bath robe with wet, stringy hair clinging to her neck and forehead.
The overwhelming smell of lavender bath wash consumed the two detectives, forcing them to change their breathing, the manufactured scent assaulting their senses.
"Can I help you?" She asked with impatience in her voice.
"Special Victims," Elliot started, producing his badge, Olivia followed suit. "I'm Detective Stabler and this is Detective Benson. We're looking for Frankie Monty."
She crossed her arms, "Yeah, he's asleep."
Finally, found the guy.
Olivia did a mental happy dance.
Then realized 'wet head' wasn't going to make this easy.
"Could you wake him up? We just want to talk to him." Elliot continued taking the diplomatic route.
"Yeah, I could. What's this about?"
"That's really not your concern."
"I know my rights. You gotta have warrant or som—" She was turning hostile.
"Lily! God! What the hell is going on out there?" A new voice rumbled from within the apartment.
The dog started to bark again and a television flipped on, mostly likely the doing of the little boy.
"Damnit!" Something skidded and then crashed.
Lily cringed at the doorway followed by the two detectives.
"Terry, I've told you again and again not to leave your damn toys out! Nearly tripped and broke my damn neck!"
Frankie Monty continued to curse whereas Terry ignored him.
He limped up behind Lily, his blunt, bulging belly, lined with sporadic black hair, hung over the bath towel wrapped about his waist.
No modestly here. Olivia thought to herself.
"Don't talk to him like that." Lily said quietly.
Frankie completely ignored her comment, "You are you?"
Before Elliot could answer him.
"Their cops. Can't you tell?" Lily muttered tightening her robe and shuffled passed him.
"Shows where you've been." Frankie said insensitively, she ignored him.
Formalities where repeated, again.
"What this about?"
"Your deceased wife, Cate." Elliot continued.
Frankie scoffed, "Bitch killed my kids and then jumped off a fuckin' bridge. What about her?"
"We're investigating a murder and have found evidence of your wife at the crime scene." Olivia began.
His demeanor changed abruptly.
"What? No, she's dead. What murder?"
Olivia ignored his questions, "How would you describe your wife before the incident?"
"Incident?" He hissed, "Or do you mean infanticide? Look she was fine then she cracked taking both my kids with her. Then she started claiming they where attacked by a gang of people. When it was really her, that sick, monster she became. She's dead end of story. I don't care what you've found!"
He leaned in close to Olivia; Elliot braced himself for possible attack, "Cate's. Fuckin'. Dead."
Frankie shut the door forcefully, creating another over-whelming flush of lavender bath wash, pushing both the detectives back a few steps.
Elliot fought the urge to curse and cough.
"I don't like him." Olivia muttered waving the odor away from her nose; she felt a headache coming on. She thought about flipping her finger at the door, then thought better of it.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Who's in Room E604?" John Munch demanded from the two star, Moore Hotel front desk manger.
The young female desk manger, obviously frazzled, which looked like her natural state, paused for a moment, over-whelmed by all the officers and SWAT team members.
She quickly leafed over the ledger, her long, fake pink fingernails creating snarl-like sounds along the pages as she skimmed for the room number. She tapped the page with her index leaving an indention once she found it.
"Mark Garston. Check out time was—is 2:00 pm tomorrow." She reported between chews of bubble gum.
"Is anyone else on that floor?"
More ledger leafing and gum chewing, she blew a bubble, popped it, then sucked the remains back in.
Nadia swallowed in slight disgust.
"Yeah, E624 Marko Rivers and E614 James Gibson."
Fin scribbled the names and numbers down.
"Has anyone been up to clean the room?" Fin questioned between her continuing chews.
"Sarah?Noshe'salwayslateonThrusdays.Shehasalatenightfromherotherjob."
Do you still have your tongue? John thought after she rattled off the quick answer.
"Good, don't let anyone up there." John said moving away with the horde officers.
"Ae!" 'Bubble gum' called to their backs.
Fin glanced back just in time to catch the flying E604 room key.
"Helookedlikeacreepanyway."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They didn't need the room key; the door was already unlocked and had been picked, recently too.
No one answered their demanding knocks either.
So they stormed.
"Room's all clear, sir." The lead SWAT lieutenant reported to John, the officer in charge, after they completed the room sweep.
He nodded watching the other SWAT officers file out of E604. Then the rookie Nadia Sands and her partner Detective Andrew Gage quietly entered the room.
The Moore Hotel room E604 was trashed.
Some had to of heard this. Nadia thought to herself.
The nightstand had been smashed, its twin over turned. The lamp molested and flickered on the floor, casting shadows at odd intervals. Tossed and torn bed sheets. Cut ropes hanging from the bed posts. A partial depression in a near by wall where someone had been thrown up against it. Shattered Rattler Malt Liquor bottle, embedded in the carpet, soft glints of glass flickered here and there by the lamp. And then there was the body.
Couldn't miss that, the slightly overweight Caucasian male lying face down, with the large dip in his head the size of a baseball, on the opposite side of the bed, one arm strewn up against the bed frame; rigor mortis.
The entire bed was crooked; the head bed post on the left side was cracked and severely lopsided, it was attached only by a few splinters. The carved, wooden bulb wasn't that lovely hazel finish anymore; it was a dark maroon now; the murder weapon.
The tan carpet had turned a sickly shade of henna around his basined skull creating an abstract fan effect. Soft chunks of coagulated blood and brain tissue had been scattered and embedded in the carpet, along with small bits of skull. Speckles of rust colored blood had sprayed on the near by wall and sprinkled on the bed's sheets and dust ruffle.
What a mess. Nadia observed.
Then there was the pungent aroma hanging in the room, strong liquor mingled with human defecation, that iron smell derived from blood and another faint musk….
...What is that? Oh…it's cum.
She realized, faint but it was there, somewhere and she wasn't going blood hound it out either. Nadia recalled another officer she observed back in Narcotics during her first week who would have; yeah he could identify any smell.
What was his name? Shit. It was going to drive her crazy.
John and Fin scanned the adjoining walls around the room, both searching for the same bold statement.
It was nonexistent.
John had his doubts; this could be a copycat running around in a hood too. But then again, the press didn't even have a hold of this. It had only been two days though; he wondered how long their good fortune would last.
"Sands to base," Nadia clicked her radio.
"Base responding," an officer murmured though the static crackle.
"I need a Crime Scene Unit at the Moore Hotel, room E604."
"Dispatching. Over and out."
Nadia replaced her radio and glanced around the room, eyeing her two superiors.
"You two don't think it's her, do ya?" She started.
Fin shrugged and John didn't reply.
"Someone heard this." Fin muttered, John nodded at his words.
"Rookie one, rookie two," John pointed at Nadia, then at Andrew, "collect statements from the other floor occupants."
Andrew crossed his arms, "I got a name you know."
"I'm sure you do." John replied.
Nadia took no offense, "Come on Gage, I know when I'm not wanted!" She said dramatically tossing her hair, taking his arm and leading her partner out into the hall.
She pitched a wink over her shoulder directed at John, it didn't go unnoticed.
John felt a thin smile spread over his lips, then he wiped it away.
She's just a kid. He thought to himself.
"She's a fox. Why's she winkin' at your crusty ass?" Fin questioned once the two rookies where out of earshot.
"Don't be jealous of my sexual magnetism." John replied, observing the body from a far.
"You? Sexual magnetism? Yeah John, sometimes I can hardly contain myself around you." Fin squelched while he leered into the already lit bathroom.
"But you do it so well. I guess just have that effect on some people." John muttered, Fin scoffed and continued to the scan the room.
Room E614, registered to James Gibson.
Andrew continued to bang on the door. No response. Bit his lip and shrugged under his hoody.
"We'll ask 'bubble gum' later, 'k." Nadia purred.
Room E624, registered to Marko Rivers.
Nadia knocked politely, the door opened almost immediately to a young, thin, dark haired man.
"Yes?" There was a ring in his voice.
"Marko Rivers?" Nadia asked.
"Yes." That ring again.
"Did you hear anything last night? A commotion down the hall perhaps?" Andrew cut straight to the chase.
"A commotion?" Marko intoned seductively, his eyes locked with Nadia's.
The years of thievery and poker playing taught her how to hide every emotion, every tell, every blush, though it all, she felt no urge to react to his tone.
"I've been known to cause commotion, but always in the presence of a lovely woman."
Now he was just grossing her out.
Andrew, disgusted that he was hitting on his partner slammed his arm on the doorjamb between Nadia and Marko, "Look asshole, did you hear anything down the hall, or see anyone suspicious last night?"
Annoyed, Marko moved back from the doorway and crossed his arms.
"No, I didn't hear anyone because I was making love to my Angela, my focus was else where. She wanted some ice for her nipples so I stepped out about two am-ish and I saw someone with a, I don't know…in a hoody-sweat-shirt thing, near the elevator. That's it."
"Could you see a face?" Nadia questioned.
"No, she had the hood up."
"She? How do you know she was female?" Andrew observed.
Just then Nadia leaned backwards into the hallway to scan for a security camera and spotted one positioned in a dark corner pointed at the elevator door.
Bingo.
The elevator door folded aside just then to reveal the CSU team.
"I am a man. I know those luscious curves when I see them, even if there in baggy restrictions." Marko said in a matter fact attitude.
Andrew's patience was wearing thin.
"Marko…I don't want to wait anymore…." A soft siren-like voice called from within the hotel bedroom, a mild husk in her tone.
Marko smugly readjusted his jaw and gave Andrew a leer.
"A moment my, Angela." He said staring at Andrew, "We done here?"
"Yeah, thank you for your time Mr. Rivers." Nadia said quickly reading her partners tension.
He smiled politely, "A pleasure, my dear." He purred, Nadia cringed in slight revulsion, and was nearly ecstatic when he closed the door.
"I knew a girl in high school who would ice her nipples." Nadia started, Andrew looked at her strangely, "Anyway, let's check with 'bubble gum' about the other guy and getting a hold of that tape." She pointed at the camera.
He shot her a 'way-to-go-I-didn't-even-think-to-look-for-a-camera' look.
They passed E604 to hear John and Fin bicker about the crime scene or something else, caught flashes of CSU cameras and the sounds of forensic kits being rummaged around in.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"James Gibson, when was the last time he checked in?" Nadia etched her index finger along the front desk; 'bubble gum' popped another bubble.
"Well, Idon'tthinkhe's…twodaysatleast. Buthemayhavecomebylastlastnight. MyshiftstartsatoneamsoIwouldhavemissedhim." She sputtered.
Andrew paused, his brain catching up with her answer.
"Give us a call when he shows up." Nadia muttered handing 'bubble gum' one her business cards from the beast pocket her dark maroon fringe leather jacket.
"Sure."
"Where going to need the security camera footage from level E, also." Andrew added.
'Bubble gum' pulled her lower lip inward and emitted a soft sucking noise.
"Is there a problem?" Nadia asked.
"Ithasn'tworkedinmonths." She said it very quickly, faster than usual.
"Aw damnit!" Andrew cursed slamming his palm down on the front desk.
An amber ashtray jumped, tossing flits of gray, a butt and caused 'bubble gum' to flinch.
"What about the main lobby?" Nadia asked jerking her thumb at camera behind her.
"Thatonetoo. Noneofthemwork."
"Aw fuck!" Andrew hissed running a swift hand though his dirty blonde hair.
Nadia disappointed, dropped her eyes, "Look, just call us when Gibson shows up and don't let anyone up to Level E."
She pulled Andrew along with her as she approached the elevator.
"And get these fuckin' cameras fixed!" Andrew shouted in chagrin, slinging his free arm, as he permitted Nadia to guide him away.
'Bubble gum' blew another bubble popped it, sucking in the remnants, "Ass."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Damnit!"
"What is it now?"
"The anchor—Shit. It's hung in something."
"Well un-hang it."
"I'm trying, damnit!"
"Cut the line."
"Hell no! I just bought this one, 'cause you and Jenny fucked up the last one!"
"Bullshit. That was all Jenny."
"Well it really doesn't matter does it, because I'm out sixty-eight bucks and now I got another fucked anchor!"
"Well, you dropped there."
Lawrence cut his eyes hard at Chris and cranked the anchor hard once again out of frustration. It was jammed; there wasn't any way to loosen it from above the water.
Lawrence cursed again and forcefully took the slack out of the crank. The cable hissed and slapped the murky water.
He seated himself on the sun rotted vinyl boat seat, removed his shoes, stood and looked dreadfully at the water.
"Chris, you're an ass, you know that."
Before Chris could respond Lawrence dove head first into the murky water.
"You're an ass." Chris said pointlessly to the disturbed water.
Lawrence pulled himself along the anchor cable, its restraint slowly coming into focus. It looked oddly familiar…
…Oh shit it's a car…The headlights are even on!
The anchor was caught under the passenger side wheel-whelm.
What if someone's in there? Fear whispered in Lawrence's mind.
Lawrence didn't want to know, he realized. He really, really didn't. But it was too late, he already saw the drivers side, a freshly bloated corpse, with its hands bound to the steering wheel. Its face contorted and sickly gray. Its eyes where open, he could see into its soul, it's wretchedly, haunting, soul.
Join me…he thought he heard.
Lawrence couldn't stop the scream.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mark Garston served twelve years in Walker-Parks minimum security prison for the child molestation of three young boys, had been released and was a registered sex offender.
He was reformed, deemed safe to be on the streets again or so it was thought. Had gotten a decent job and checked in with his parole officer at every deadline, he was making an effort. But he faltered somewhere along the way.
M.E Warner preformed his autopsy; his cause of death was obvious, blunt trauma to his skull. Upon her further inspection of his body Warner found traces of his killer, a small wad of matted hair in his stiff fist and traces of Jack Kershaw's blood.
It was a match; the follicles belonged to Cate Monty.
But no there was no frantic statement painted in Mark Garston's blood at the crime scene.
Nothing, it wasn't even constant with her other murder, it wasn't severe or prompted by rage, it was clear cut and done quickly.
"Alright, we have two murders, both preformed by the same person, one was overkill the other looks more tame." Cragen said aloud as he stared at the new crime scene photos on the board and a newly digitally aged photo of what Cate Monty may look like today.
"Any connection between Garston and Monty?" He aimed at Olivia.
She shook her head.
"CSU canvassed the entire floor and all the rooms including our missing man's James Gibson, looking forced entry. Room E617, Gibson's room had been tampered with. The window had been forced open and some blood smears where found on the sill, on the fire escape and the inside doorknob. Guess whose blood it was?" John riddled while he adjusted his dark lenses glasses.
Cragen flexed his head at John.
"Ah, no guess." John shrugged, "They where faint but there was just enough to get a clean sample, Jack Kershaw's. Some of his blood was also on Mark Garston."
"She killed them both on the same night." Olivia said in realization.
"She's not making much of an effort to cover her tracks either." Elliot observed.
"This isn't making sense….She tortured and beat the hell out of Jack Kershaw and this Mark guy she just bashed his head in. I'm not seeing much of a connection except their both involved in sex crimes." Cragen brainstormed.
"She wasn't there to kill Mark Garston." Olivia voiced.
"That's what I was thinkin' too, she was there to knock someone else off, most likely James Gibson, his room was forced." Fin added.
"Cate entered there looking for Gibson, didn't find him and heard Nathan Thorne cries." Olivia added.
"Took out another bastard." Elliot muttered.
Cragen nodded, "Find out everything on this Gibson guy, but something tells me he's already dead."
Elliot nodded; he had the same feeling too.
"And bring in Nathan Thorne, I want George Huang to observe him." Cragen pointed at Olivia.
Just then Cragen's desk phone rang; he stepped aside and answered it, then returned to back to the group.
"That was CSU. They found James Gibson."
(End Chapter Three)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Praise me, encourage me, burn me, or destroy me…just review.