"So, Jessica… are you going to go over there? Or are you going to stick here like a good little girl?" The words were drawn out, taunting and sexual in tone. The red head who spoke them matched the tone of her words in both style and personality, donned in a dark green top meant to compliment her hair and a matching black skirt. The addition of black kitten heels meant that in her own words, Amy was "dressed to kill".
Her friend Jessica, however, was not. Jessica was dressed stylishly, but not in an overtly sensual manner. No, her pink blouse was sedate and paired with well-fitting khaki slacks. Her outfit (paired with her pale blonde hair) was more 'warm summer' than 'hot passion'.
And still Jessica managed to outshine Amy. While the club wasn't empty it wasn't full either. As a matter of fact it was still too early for the real night life to be out, even if it was a Friday night. Which wouldn't normally be a problem for Amy, except the only reasonably attractive man in the building was sitting at the opposite end of the bar, staring at Jessica.
So Amy was egging Jessica to go over and 'say hello'. Or as she more delicately put it: "Invite him to your place to have hot, raging sex."
Jessica's response to all of this? "Amy, you're drunk."
"That doesn't mean you shouldn't listen to me." The red head insisted.
Her friend laughed and shook her head. "The very fact you are drunk tells me I should second guess everything you tell me to do."
Amy scoffed. "Why have I ever told you to do something stupid?"
"The last time you were drunk." Jessica told her.
"I did not."
"You did too. You told me to post a naked picture on a dating website."
"Which was perfectly legitimate for getting you laid! Come off it, you're such a prude." Amy snapped at Jessica.
Annoyed, Jessica snapped back. "I am not. Just because you're a slut, doesn't mean you can call me a prude."
"Excuse me? I'm a slut?" Amy stood from her seat at the bar. "Well at least I know how to have a good time."
"Good time? Good time?" Jessica near shouted. "Your idea of a good time is to get drop-dead drunk and knock heels with some dead beat guy whose number you always lose in the morning."
Growling, Amy picked up her drink and threw it in Jessica's face.
For Jessica, this was the last straw. At this point, she no longer cared that Amy was drunk with no ride home other than her. At this point, Jessica was ready to leave, whether or not her over the top friend left with her.
"I'm leaving." WasIs all she said before she turned on one heel and left.
The tipsy red head yelled at her, called her a coward and a few other names, but the blonde woman never turned around. And Amy never noticed that the man at the end of the bar left too.
Saturdays should not be spent in traffic. Ever. Not even for some poor little fawn. Ok, maybe said poor little fawn is worth it, but still bumper to bumper is more than a little frustrating… for anyone.
Nia sighed,sighed; this was a crappy way to spend her weekend. Hours playing tea party with Kaya while sitting in a chair much too small for her motherly bum was more entertaining than this traffic. There shouldn't even be any of this traffic either. What could be…?
As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Nia knew, just knew, it wasn't anything good. Sure there had been thick traffic when she had left the city, but nothing like this. And Saturdays didn't exactly have a rush hour that competed with the weekday rush hour. So the only explanation would be… an accident. A bad one that took up one or more lanes of the highway. Considering the traffic, Nia would guess two lanes, multiple cars.
Over the next twenty minutes, as the vehicles slowly crept forward, thoughts of what was happening up ahead plagued her.
Was it a mother? A father? A family with children?
Was it some 'too young' guy or girl? Were they hurt?
Alive?
Dead?
She began to pray, quietly at first. She started more to comfort herself then to actually pray for the possible people in the car accident she hadn't yet seen, but then her prayers grew in strength and number. Just as she thought she was going to run out of things to pray for, she saw the cop cars and the flashing lights of the paramedics. Other vehicles were there also, troopers, vans, and three civilian vehicles in very poor shape.
One could see that two had hit the third vehicle head one, both hoods crumpled like accordions. The third vehicle had been hit on the side, the driver's side door and back passenger door both wrecked beyond imaginable repair. The paint and the interior of the vehicle was black, as if burned. Clearly a lot had happened here.
Nia noticed that only one ambulance remained, and they weren't rushed as they worked by the third vehicle. Cops were watching the perimeter of the area, talking on walkies, and watching as gentlemen in different uniforms worked. They're collecting samples, Nia realized before a second realization hit her. Someone's dead.
A horn blared behind her, alerting her to the fact that she'd slowed down past the accident just a little too long. Pressing her foot to the accelerator, Nia sped up into clearer traffic and a finally faster way home.
From the edge of the car accident, an inexperienced eye might see only the damage to the vehicles, the damage to the people, the burned wreckage of the car hit, and the death of one person.
From where he was standing, Commissioner Gordon realized that most cops would only have seen what lay directly before him. He still didn't know how one young deputy knew, and knew to call him.
What lay in front of him was some sick bastard's way of covering up a murder. All too clearly, he could see the staged collision of both vehicles into the side of the dark green sedan. He'd bet money that some kind of accelerant was used inside the vehicle to aid in destroying of any evidence left behind by the killer. Gordon wondered what the autopsy report would reveal about the figure in the front seat, a woman by what he could see.
Watching as the crime scene techs took pictures, Gordon motioned the young deputy over. "Deputy Carlson, I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you contacting me. Though there are more proper channels you should go through," tThe deputy looked abashed at the slight reprimand, "I am glad you contacted someone."
"Sir, I know I should have contacted my Lieutenant first, and let him handle contacting you. I'm afraid we aren't on the best of terms right now," Now the deputy looked sheepish. "That's my fault too. I'm a bit of a hot head. It's my momma's Cajun blood." Sighing, he gave up trying to apologize. "I just knew someone needed to be contacted."
"Don't take this wrong, but how? Not many would have spotted this." Gordon wasn't sure why, but something told him to keep questioning the deputy, that he had information to share. It was an old instinct, one honed over many years as a detective, then as a lieutenant.
"Well sir, I've seen this before. In Louisiana." The deputy informed him.
The Commissioner nodded. "You said Cajun blood."
The deputy cleared his throat. "Uh, yes sir. I didn't live in the bayou for any, but my adult life though."
"Oh really?" Gordon asked.
"Yeah. It's actually where I attended the academy, worked as a deputy there for several years. I even knew our new DA when she was just an up and coming prosecutor." He paused. "Actually, she'd be a real good one to tell you about the case. The one I've seen before, that is." The deputy had turned toward the wreckage, and glanced briefly back at Gordon. "Commissioner, that case… It was bad one. Real bad. Guy killed four women. The first he tried to cover up, same way as this."
Gordon felt himself go still. The deputy's words struck a chord inside of him as he recalled several articles from the file that had appeared on his desk. This case that spooked the deputy? Was one of them. "I know the case." Gordon said.
Deputy Carlson nodded. "Not surprised. It made national news."
Gordon shook his head. "That's not how." Suddenly he swore, turned and left the scene.
Damn that Bat.
How did he know? "A friend of a friend" had been what he told Gordon, and now Gordon can only assume this was a hell of a friend. "Keep an eye out" his ass. That flying rodent… Was the best damn ally Gordon had ever had. He'd even saved Gotham. Twice.
Damn that Bat.
District Attorney Victoria Johnson growled at the idiot in front of her. Literally.
The moron sitting in front of her jumped back, eyes finally tearing away from the V of her blouse and settling on her face. He was a mob nephew and had the lack of brains to prove it.
"Look, Joey" She drew out his name as she leaned even further into his face. "I have DNA evidence to prove you were there. If you don't know, that means I have little pieces of you scientists have proven are only from you."
The panicked look on his lawyers face told her she was at last going to be taken seriously. Even the detectives behind her tensed up. Probably waiting for the "ditsy DA" to crack and attack a suspect.
"So guess what?" Not waiting for his response she continued. "I can and will charge you with the murder of Ms. Angeli and Mr. Giordano if you don't talk. I hear the needle isn't too bad." Her slight Cajun drawl drew out her next statement. "After all, they give you painkillers."
Stuttering, the thug barely got out "But-But you can't do that!"
"And why is that?" Johnson asked.
"'Cause I didn't do it! An' you know it!" Joey Romano shouted as it his voice alone could prove his innocence.
Lucky for him, it did.
"Oh I know that, Joey. That also doesn't mean I have to care." She laid out a crime scene pictures and evidence logs. "You are a thug, Joey Romano. Thugs like you don't get innocent rulings. Not looking the way you do."
"Now wait a minute-" The"The court appointed attorney started to stammer out. Poor Joey never had a chance with a lawyer like this one. Johnson almost felt bad for him.
"Shut up, Henricks. Your client has two options." She slammed her fist on the table. Both men jumped. "Death penalty, or 15-25 in prison. Alive." She lowered her voice. "Just give me Marino." Johnson said to Romano.
Dark eyes darted from her face to his attorney's. The man in glasses shrugged when the eyes pleaded with him for advice. Finally, Romano crumpled.
"Ok. It was his idea. He planned it. I didn't know what he'd planned until I'd gotten there…"
A half hour later, Victoria Johnson left the interrogation room and the man currently writing out his confession under the supervision of two pleased detectives. As she gently shut the door, a voice came from the left, startling her.
"Impressive."
Johnson turned. It was Commissioner Gordon. "Thank you." She said to him curtly, before turning to walk away.
"You were lucky on this one." She stopped. "Growls and looks of death don't work on more experienced criminals." She turned around. "Or on me," Gordon said as he caught the look on her face. And he was telling the truth. Her look of death didn't make him want to confess. He did, however, want to make sure he had his weapon close at hand.
He relaxed a little when she sighed and visibly shook off what he said.
"I assume you have a reason for being here? Other than commenting on my hands-on technique?" No reason to get mad, Johnson told herself. It's not like anyone here knows you very well, they all think you're some crazy blonde who will screw everything up. You just need to prove them wrong.
"Yeah," Gordon said. "You got that file handy?"
"Which file?"
He gave her a look.
"That file. Yes. Why?" She said.
"There's something you need to see."
A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this one. Don't worry, everything will start coming together very soon. Many thanks to my lovely beta, The Window View. Now, I'm not one to beg for reviews, but it is true that they give encouragement and direction for the next chapter :)