Revelations
"What?" Sheila bellowed.
"Impossible!" James said. "I saw them."
"James." Ann said, "You saw two unrecognizable scorched bodies. Did you recognize them? At all?"
"They…" He ducked his head. "Between the fire and the crash…"
"Are you certain, Doctor?" Sheila asked, this time to a real person as the FBI specialist exited the room.
"Yes."
"Could it have been an honest mistake?" Tom asked.
"No. Not to anyone even moderately competent—as in, "spent a day in medical school." The body was heavily damaged—but the pelvis is obviously of a male." He paused, "and, needless to say, the DNA isn't that of Cindy Possible."
"And the smaller body?"
"A girl, yes, but no DNA match there either." Sheila paused.
"Any match on the database?"
"No. But it's not a complete database by any means." He shrugged, "In fact, it's entirely possible, depending on where these two died, there may be no DNA data on file."
"Fine. Doctor, take those bodies apart—I want to know what killed them." Sheila paused, "As of now, this is also a murder investigation in the case of these two, until you can prove they died of natural causes." She looked over at the family. James had sat down, hard, in one of the chairs, his face positively gray. "There's conference room one floor up. I think we need to have a long, serious, talk."
In the room, Sheila waited while Sharon forced a cup of dark coffee into James' hands, before drinking from her own. Sheila had decided to do a little investigation into Sharon, and found that she was, like James, a brilliant scientist—specializing in cyberrobotics. Also like James, with the exception of this case, her closest involvement with the law had been a few speeding tickets and one break in to her car, in which a CD player was stolen. The two had identical looks on their faces, of someone who had unexpectedly been dumped into a nightmare. Ann Possible had a different look—in her case of someone remembering a particularly distasteful memory. Even today, a good chunk of her dossier was classified. The only thing Sheila was certain of was that she'd played with the big boys, in situations ranging from little no-name operations to one operation during the Cuban missile crisis that was completely classified… except for the fact that it had occurred in the USSR.
What a way to get dragged out of retirement.
"Alright. Fact." Sheila said, rapping her knuckles on the table. "Those are not your family members' bodies. Fact. DNA and visual evidence indicates that Kim Possible, at least, is alive, and evidently involved in the commission of crimes up to and including murder, and that she may be a very skilled assassin. Those are the only facts we have right now."
"But Cindy could-"
"Be dead, be alive—anything on that is speculation." Sheila said. "Oh, and Fact—there is very good evidence of at least some official malfeasance on the part of local law enforcement. At the very least, criminal negligence… or something worse." She paused. "Ms. Possible… I hope you're not surprised that I've done a little digging into your career." Ann nodded, looking like she was about to go get some more lemon squares…until you looked into her eyes. Sheila noticed that she'd taken out some knitting material, and was working on it.
"Not at all dear. You strike me as very competent."
"Thanks—would you care to share with us your opinion on how much trouble someone went too?"
"A great deal." Ann paused. "Someone not only faked a car accident, but came up with a pair of bodies of roughly the right size, insured they were burned badly enough to prevent identification, and the relevant authorities were suborned." All the while her hands continued efficiently knitting a scarf.
Or a handy Garrote. Sheila thought.
"Right… and now, the wheels are coming off." She said, "Which is good."
"Why?" James asked, "We still don't know who did this."
"That's true—but we have one end—someone felt the need to frame your wife, and had resources to do it." Sheila shrugged, "You're a scientist—and so a lot of times you come at a problem from the view of solving it—produce a theory, test it, rinse and repeat. In some respects, we do the same thing, only we have an easier time in one way."
"Yes?" Sarah asked.
"We have the advantage, especially in cases like this that we can eliminate a lot of people right off the bat, and look for the ones who benefit—it doesn't matter how clever you are at disguising the evidence when you kill your girlfriend, say, if everyone we interview mentions that you two were fighting every night of the week." She grinned, "And the more complex the plot, the more completely it unravels once things start to go south….say a single tiny hair with some DNA on it."
"Short list." Tom interjected.
"Yeah. And right now, my short list includes the ME."
"I'm… I'm afraid it's likely someone else's short list did as well." Ann said, working on her knitting. "The ME went on vacation two weeks after he identified the bodies and…"
"Unfortunate accident?"
"Drowning. Did I mention he won the Bronze in freestyle?" She shrugged, "At the time, well it was just a terrible accident, but now…"
"Well, this gets bigger and bigger." Sheila paused. Someone had resources. Lots of resources.
To frame a small town doctor? No. That makes no sense, and if they were that interested, why not just kill her? Anyone who could do this could certainly set up a "botched" mugging. To many damned questions. But now we have a…oh yes.
"Was Dr. Possible working on any cases just before this?" Sheila asked.
"No…" James said. "Nothing special…"
"Dr. Michaelson said she was…disturbed for a few weeks previous to the whole blow up." Tom pointed out.
"She was… She said it was sleep—I mean, the twins had just been born, and between them and Kimmie-cub…" Now he was thinking, back to a time over twelve years ago.
"But…" He paused, "She wasn't upset for a while—the twins were almost a month old at that point…"
"So not the twins." Tom said.
"I think we need to visit the hospital." Sheila said, "Again."
"With us?" James asked.
"No." Sheila said. Her expression softened. "Doctor…you're emotionally involved—I understand, but right now the worst thing that could happen is to misread evidence, or worse convince people you're just a family that hasn't moved beyond the event." Then she smiled, an unpleasant expression, "And besides, sometimes it's better to just have a pair of pissed off agents in your office…"
Still working on her knitting, Ann didn't bother to look up.
"You know dear, you would have fit right in, in the OSS. I think Wild Bill Donovan would have liked you."
"So we're going to try and reconstruct someone's movements twelve years after the fact?" Wade asked.
"Yes."
"How?"
"Old fashioned detective work." Sheila paused, "The kind that predated computers." Wade looked horrified at the very thought. Sheila continued, "First we interview the good doctor." A she smiled, "Then we check out the hospital records."
"What if they're gone?" Wade asked. Sheila laughed.
"Math-Lad, you have no idea how much paperwork goes into a hospital—some might be gone, but not all, I'll bet, and even if they did get them all, knowing what records were missing would be almost as good as having them."
"What about danger to the family." Tom mentioned. "Or someone deciding to shut us up?" Sheila paused, thought, and shook her head.
"I…don't think that's an immediate fear. Before we got involved? Maybe. Now…"
Dropping us, or the family right now in the middle of an investigation would be a growth industry…Wade backs up his laptop and our records with the mainframe…. Sheila shook her head again. No, all that would result in would be the appearance of more agents, experienced, pissed off, and very eager to find a culprit.
"No—I couldn't think of anything that would do more to say: HELLO! CONSPIRIACY TO BE UNMASKED!" She looked over to Wade, "But just in case, you are keeping things backed up, right?"
"Right." She paused, again, thinking hard. But complex doesn't always mean smart, and people can panic….
"I'm going to ask for some observation on the Possible's." Sheila said, "Just in case." She finished as she pulled out her cel.
Tono sat in his office. He smiled at the end of Kujo, and how proud Kim had been… even through her anger at her mother. When Kim had returned, she'd looked emberassed, but she had quickly recovered.
"Oops. Yori…" Kim said,
"Yes, Kim?" Her partner asked.
"I um…" She motioned to where a fleck of blood from the initial stabbing had landed on Yori's cheek. Yori giggled.
"Kim…you're trying to make me look bad!" Kim laughed, handing her a napkin, with which she dabbed away the last remains of Kujo's presence at the dinner. The two giggled, like little girls, before schooling themselves back to a decorous presence at the table, under Tono's grandfatherly eyes.
The phone chimed and Tono took is.
"Yes?" He asked. Anyone on this phone did not need to waste time with pleasantries. "I see…. Yes." He paused. "That is unfortunate." He frowned momentarily and than nodded. "I will open my own lines of inquiry. Thank you."
So. Someone has had doubts about Cindy Possible's death. The fact that they might not know never entered his mind. Five minutes with a decent, or unbribed, doctor, would demonstrate conclusively that the corpses were not of Kim or Cindy. He wondered if they would discover their true identity… No matter, in fact, better if they wasted time attempting to.
But now that the FBI was involved, at least according to his source, things could become very… troubling.
Troubling for him. Troubling for his organization. The other Yakuza families had on several occasions moved against him, but their inability to be truly long term in their thinking had harmed them.
But of course, chance could endanger even the best plan, like his. If nothing was done…
Than the true prize might very well elude him. Kim was effective, and Kim's mother was useful…
But none of those compared to the fact that Tono was in a position to control the next Attorney General of the United States of America.
TBC.