Still wearing his green scrubs, Asten sat in his dark brown chair, reading the preliminary police report.

The decedent's body was discovered by the bartender as he left the premises of 8570 Sunset Blvd. The bartender, James W. Duvall CDL N811590003, locked the back door of the restaurant and proceeded southwest to the parking lot, where he discovered a light blue metallic 1975 BMW 2002 CA registration 937 MKY, VIN#W95668425552 with its passenger door standing wide open at approximately 3:10 AM. He looked inside the car and discovered the decedent, presumed to be Michael Quincy pending final identification from the LACC, sitting in the driver's seat, a bullet wound in his head. Duvall went back inside his place of employment and called the police. The nearest responding unit, ADAM-23, arrived at 3:16 AM, whereupon officers Stahl and Brown secured the crime scene and called for a homicide unit. After questioning Duvall, it was determined that the decedent and an unidentified woman with him left the restaurant between 11:00 PM and midnight.

Homicide officers responding were Lark and Jackson who determined that the bullet trajectory sent it through the windshield, confirmed by the crack and hole, and into the wall of the building residing at 8570 Sunset Blvd. They searched the wall of 8570 and retrieved a 7mm bullet, likely fired from a .280 Remington, aka 7mm Express Remington. Further ballistic tests will be needed to determine trajectory and possible weapons.

After a search of the area, no weapon was discovered, nor any evidence of a shooter such as a casing or cartridge. The area has been sealed off pending further investigation by the homicide unit. The preliminary report from the LACC will also help determine trajectory and confirm the caliber of the weapon. Car was dusted for prints and two sets were lifted and are being run for identification. Following body removal by the on-duty coroner, the car was towed to police impound downtown where it can be fully investigated. Bullet hole in rear windshield indicates that the fatal shot was fired from above, most likely the rooftop of 8572. A search of the area was performed, but no evidence of a shooter was found. LAPD is currently determining the identity of the unknown female. A preliminary report run through the California justice system on Michael Quincy produced no outstanding wants or warrants. A further investigation will be conducted on the national system.

Asten sighed as he closed the manilla folder. They weren't much further ahead having performed the autopsy. He picked up the plastic bag containing all of the personal effects removed from Michael Quincy's clothing: a wallet, comb, keys, plane ticket, handkerchief and a skeleton key attached to a claim stub. Asten turned the claim stub over and read it: 483227 The Golden Tree. He examined the contents of the wallet, but it held nothing out of the ordinary. Michael Quincy's driver's license was issued by the state of Nevada, and his home address was in Las Vegas. The plane ticket was a morning flight for the following day out of LAX to JFK. Asten turned the claim stub over in his fingers, wondering why a key was attached to it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the buzzer on his intercom.

"Dr. Asten," his secretary's voice intoned, "Sgt. Brill is here to see you."

Instinctively Asten shoved the claim stub and key into his jacket pocket and then put all the other effects back into the plastic bag. He pressed a button on the intercom.

"Send him in, Patsy, thank you." Brill entered the office, closing the door behind him. "Good afternoon, Sergeant," Asten said, "what can I do for you?"

Brill stopped right in front of the desk. "Lt. Monahan was wondering if you had a prelim autopsy report we could look at."

"Well, my secretary is still transcribing the tape and putting together the pictures and prelim screening analyses, but she should have it for you within the hour."

"Good. The lieutenant's a little jumpy about this one."

"Understandable," Asten said, "I think we're all a little edgy, considering the situation."

"Yeah."

Asten handed Brill the plastic bag. "Here are the decedent's personal effects."

Brill noted Asten's avoidance in using the man's name, and decided to follow suit. "Thank you, I'll be sure the lieutenant gets it. Is ...is the doc doing okay?"

Asten's lips puckered slightly. "He's resting at the moment, but I think he'll be all right, yes. I'm planning on sending him home and telling him to stay there for a few days. I don't want him involved in any of this, he's just too close."

Brill nodded. "All right, well, Lt. Monahan asked me to remind you that he'll need to speak with Quincy before the day's out."

"I haven't forgotten, Sergeant," Asten snapped.

"Uh, no sir, I'm sure you haven't."

Asten looked down and cleared his throat. "Sorry...Guess I am feeling slightly overprotective at the moment."

"That's to be expected," Brill countered, causing Asten's eyebrows to arch up slightly, wondering what the cop was implying with such an observation.

"Yes, well, if there's nothing further, Sergeant..."

"No, Dr. Asten, that's it for now. I'm just going to wait in the outer office for the prelim. Give the lieutenant a call when it's okay for him to speak with Quincy."

"Very well."

Brill turned and walked out the door, closing it behind him. Asten let out a sigh of air and pulled the claim check and key from his pocket. He wasn't sure why he had done it, but something had caused him to hold it aside, wanting Quincy to see it first. Asten shook his head slightly at himself: obviously he had spent too much time around his deputy chief coroner, because he had just held back evidence from the police department with the intention of investigating it himself first. He lowered his head into his hands, groaning, and the buzz from his intercom made him start. He stabbed the button.

"What?"

"I'm...sorry sir," Patsy's voice stuttered, "but Sam Fujiyama called to tell you that Dr. Quincy would like to see you."

"All right, Patsy, thank you."

Asten shoved the claim check and key back into his pocket and slipped out the side door to his office, quickly heading for the elevators. He hoped Brill had wandered off for coffee or something and hadn't heard his secretary's announcement about Quincy. But somehow Asten knew his luck just wasn't that good.


Quincy's pallor struck him immediately upon entering the room, and Asten frowned. "Quincy? You okay?"

"Yeah," came the weak response.

Asten glanced at Sam, whose look he was sure mirrored his own concern. He sat down on the couch next to the medical examiner, and put a hand on the man's forehead; but it felt cool. He picked up Quincy's wrist and looked at the second hand of his own watch; his pulse was a little too fast.

The director didn't try to cover the concern in his voice, "You're not feeling very well, are you?"

Quincy shook his head. "Not really." The gray eyes pierced Asten's with their vulnerability. "Please tell me what you found..."

Asten swallowed the lump in his throat. "Are you sure you're up to this right now, Quincy?" He exchanged a concerned look with Sam, then stared into the gray eyes. "I'm a little worried about you."

"I'm okay, really. But I'd like to know what happened to Michael."

"All the preliminary data indicates death was caused by a single gunshot to the head. The bullet entered the upper left quadrant and pierced the brain, traveled across to the right hemisphere and then pushed back out in the upper right quadrant." Quincy's lips trembled slightly, and Asten put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It was very quick; I don't think your brother suffered, Quincy."

Tears fell from the medical examiner's eyes and embarrassed he looked down as he nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Asten," he whispered quietly.

The director couldn't remember ever seeing the man's eyes appear so lost, and it unsettled him.

Asten squeezed the tight shoulder under his hand. "Look, Quincy, I'd really like it if you went home now and just took a rest for a few days."

Quincy's voice remained passive and soft, the exact opposite of the man they knew so well. "I imagine that Monahan wants to talk to me..."

"Yes, he does. But that can wait if you're not up to it today. You just say so, and I'll tell him it will have to wait."

Quincy smiled at his boss sadly. "You don't have to protect me, Dr. Asten. There's nothing Monahan can say that'll make this hurt any more than it does right now..."

Quincy's desolation landed in Asten's belly like a lead weight, and he had to choke back his own emotion. "Oh Quincy...I wish to hell there was something I could do."

The medical examiner shook his head. "Michael's been heading for something like this for a long time; I just wish it'd happened in someone else's jurisdiction."

Asten frowned. "Sam," he said, "call Monahan, tell him Quincy's available now if he wants to talk to him."

"Yes, Dr. Asten. Quince? Can I get you anything?"

"No thanks, Sam."

Sam left the room and the two men sat in an awkward silence, each wanting to reach out to the other, but neither knowing how.