Operation Glitterberries
Chapter 07: Home Invasion II
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Disclaimer: Daria and associated characters are owned by MTV and Viacom. This is fan fiction written for entertainment only. No money or other negotiable currency or goods have been exchanged.
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Frank Winston was annoyed. He had been less than five minutes to end his shift when a call from that asshole of Sergeant Reich, the chief's lapdog, came from the net, ordering him to go and play fetch for one of his big wigs that had smoked some bad weed and now send one of their cronies for a change of clothes and their insurance. And since said crony lacked a key he was authorized by the owner to break a window to enter, just like a burglar.
"Lucky me."
He remembered when entered the force in the eighties under the Old Man Burns, now he had been everything one could ask for a Chief of Police. He was the man who had seen the incoming threat of drugs, and had waged one nasty war to keep them out of the city. But then he had retired, and his successor, while just as good an officer wasn't as political savvy, and that had been his downfall. When one of his men had given a couple of black teens a beating in front of the media, no one expected that the reporters of Sick, Sad World would raise such a ruckus, and being the loyal man who he was, Chief Wiggum took a hard line in his desire to protect them and had driven the local black community to the edge of riots just like the ones not seen since L.A. The city mayor then had been forced to throw him out in order to maintain the peace. Some bastards from a TV show even had the gal to add to their show a bumbling and corrupt cop and named it after him!
His replacement more than a cop was a political animal, a man that had been relegated to be the guy send to all those useless community gatherings and petty thefts, were his lack of skills wouldn't endanger anyone. When the time to choose a new chief came, he was appointed by virtue of the color of his skin and the fact that he was at least known to some of the population.
And once he was given the command of the police department he started a series of reforms to supposedly improve the relations with the community, like firing one third of the local cops and hiring the same number of Black and Hispanic recently graduated rookies, throwing almost a decade of accumulated experience to the garbage, and by happenstance eliminating most of his potential competition once the crisis was over.
Only the most notorious 'closers' had been kept in the force, and they were so overworked with the important cases that they seldom have time for their families, much less to plot against the boss; only they and those officers too old and low on the totem to worth the effort, and money, of firing or retiring. They instead had been given a long and tedious course of sensitivity training, which he suspected was less to 'create a conscience between the police officers and the members of the community' and more to just remind everyone who was now the top cat.
Just like him.
He removed his vest, the damn thing always stuck in the most uncomfortable places when he was driving, and took the squad car to the address that Reich gave him. He could have done the thirty minutes drive, they had called him from the other side of the city, in less than five if he had been using the lights and the siren but he just knew that if it reached the ears of the Chief, or one of his lackeys, then he would get the excuse they needed to fire him without benefits and he would not give them the satisfaction, no matter how many pointless milk runs like this they gave him.
Finally reaching his destination he parked and after checking that the woman he had been told to met with hadn't arrived, he got out of the car, lighted one cigarette and waited for this Marianne Richmond.
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Melody was intrigued; she had been ready to bolt out of Dodge the moment he saw the patrol arrive, but the desire to get the information inside the cd she was burning, had slowed her down enough for her to study the potential enemy in order to take him down and his actions indicated he wasn't after her. It had been five minutes since the cop has arrived and he didn't make any moves, threatening or otherwise, towards the house; neither did he looked as if he was preparing a trap and she just beat him to it, if something he looked as if he was waiting for someone.
She observed him from Quinn's room, not daring to move a muscle, even in the few occasions his gaze turned towards her general direction, humans tended to notice movement far easier than shapes, so it was safer for parts of her head to be exposed through the window than to try to cover herself and therefore calling his attention. It was then that a yellow van arrived and parked behind the patrol, and this one wasn't police nor did it show any of the telltale signs of a governmental or cover ops vehicle. If anything judging by some of the stickers and the existence of a plush cat on the backseat it was a either a family van or one of the most cunning disguises she had ever seen for an urban operation in a 'nice yet not too expensive' side of town.
From the van a blonde woman in her late twenties came out, looking nervous and a little hurried. The reactions from the cop were another telltale sign that this was an atypical situation; he wasn't acting with the kind of respect that someone is due to a superior, or someone in the position of screwing you later, or at least that was what his body language was telling. If anything the way he was moving resembled more of someone resigned to do a chore, but is not afraid of showing his displeasure to others.
She glanced at the computer screen, more than 40% left and no way to tell how long it would take for them to try to come in. Considering for less than a heartbeat she decided to extract the cd and disconnect the computer, there just wasn't enough time left, and unless she was lucky as hell there would be no more answers coming from the room or the computer, but maybe she would be able to ask the couple of unwanted guests.
Once she dealt with them…
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Marianne felt more than a little sheepish when she arrived to the house of her boss and discovered that the cop that Helen had promised was already there, waiting for her with an expression that could be described as annoyed yet trying, and failing, not to show it.
"Marianne Richmond?" He asked as he stepped on the almost expended cigarette with his heel in such a way that he virtually implied that the thing he wanted to crush was on the woman in front of him.
"Yes officer, I'm sorry for the delay, but the traffic was a bit slower than I thought it would be on Sunday.
"About time you arrived, I'm already fifteen minutes over my shift, and I don't appreciate finding myself expending my off time here. Now, may I see an I.D.?" It wasn't a question, and it wasn't polite.
Marianne rummaged her purse for a moment before getting her driver's license, Helen had warmed her that it would be needed, plus it was just common sense to ask for one before breaking into a house in her behalf. "Here, officer…?" She left the question open in the hope that the grumpy man would give any kind of personal information. He was creeping her with his contemptuous attitude.
Said attitude didn't change a bit even after being satisfied that the woman in front of him was indeed the one he had been ordered to wait, as he wrote her name and address on a small notebook he was carrying on his pocket he start laying the rules of the game. "Winston ma'am, please get your purse back in your car, I was told that you are going to be getting clothes and papers from the house in addition to a photograph that I'll be taking to the station. You're not allowed to take money or other kind of valuables out of the house; if you do it will be considered as a felony. Once you pick up all the items you require you'll show them to me before we left the premises, I'll make an itemized list which you'll sign. Don't force me to call a female officer on the radio to make a strip search; no one will enjoy it or the subsequent fallout." It was the last part, delivered with a complete lack of either humor or lechery in his voice
That said, while Marianne hurried to her van, he went to the passenger seat of his patrol and extracted a crowbar from under his vest, which he had taken off shortly before being called for this little waste of time.
Walking towards the door he took his tool and with a fluid maneuver practiced on more than a few raids on crack houses he introduced the flattened point on the space between the door and the frame and with barely a sound he broke the lock. A burglar would have been impressed, Marianne certainly was.
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Upstairs the already alert Melody heard clearly as day the sound of the door cracking, was hiding in the bathroom behind the shower's curtain, hoping that if her enemies discovered her she could use the tight space as well as her own little size to even the odds a little in case of a hand to hand battle.
She had little time for planning how to defeat the people who were breaking bellow. She saw scant possibilities of defeating a foe using a bulletproof vest and a semi-automatic pistol by head shooting him with a one shot flare gun which was so inaccurate that hitting the side of a barn hard on a good day; also fighting hand to hand a fully grown and trained adult with atrophied muscles and even worse reflexes was an unpalatable proposition as far as she was concerned, knife or no knife, he would only need to fend her off long enough to bring his gun to bear. And that was not counting the woman, who as far as she knew could be a fully trained assassin.
She would be pressed to defeat these enemies under her particular circumstances and if the situation was different she would be glad not to be found and just gather whatever intel she could before calling it a day, but if she allowed herself to cower before a couple of unsuspecting goons she might as well save her enemies the trouble and perform an unassisted lobotomy on herself. Using a wooden spoon…
She would have to rely on the small surprise she left behind as well as her sense of timing.
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The first thing that the cop did after they entered the house was to turn on the lights, they weren't thieves sneaking in the night and they weren't going to act like ones. Then he gave a good look to the house, which he admitted to himself it wasn't how he envisioned it.
It lacked the opulence that he would have expected from someone with the connections needed to get the ass of the higher up and moving. It was also quite more homely that he imagined, with those little details that separated a broken home from the others. He saw the little souvenirs and knickknacks that a family picked up with the time. Not exactly the kind of place that would breed a whole family of junkies.
The woman that until now had been quite meek and passive started moving with more of a purpose, going straight towards what looked like a small library or office and swiftly dialed the phone there. Then she put it on speaker.
"This is the Oakwood's General Hospital, if you know the exte…" She didn't let the recording finish before dialing four extra numbers.
The phone couldn't ring even once before it was answered. "Hello, Helen Morgendorffer speaking." The person on the other side of the phone sounded haggard and battered. Even then the tone of voice told him that he did not want to face her when angry.
"Mrs. Morgendorffer, I have arrived to your house alongside Officer Winston as per your instructions, and I'm right now in the office. Could you tell me what do you need from here?"
"Okay, the first thing would be the emergency papers, the backup credit cards and the money inside the fireproof box." Before she could continue Frank decided to intervene. "Ma'am, I was told that we would only need to retrieve papers and clothing from the premises, I'm not authorized to extract any kind of valuables, neither money nor credit cards." He was already bracing himself from the incoming explosion, but the woman at the other side just cursed so quietly he couldn't quite catch the words other than: "…Of course you can't…" Then talking again in a normal voice she replied. "There is no problem officer, I'll contact the bank tomorrow morning, for a money order to the local branch I hope that my I.D. will be enough to get a replacement card."
"As I was saying the box should be behind the showcase. The combination is Quinn and Daria's day and month of birth, inverted. I already gave you the numbers."
The assistant went to the showcase and retrieved the box, and without any fanfare dialed the combination and opened it. They immediately realized there was a problem.
It was Frank who dared to voice it first. "Ma'am, we just opened the box, it got the papers and the cards, however there isn't any money inside."
"Are you sure isn't mixed with the rest of the paperwork? There were four thousand dollars there?!"
This time it was the woman, Marianne, the one who backed me up. "No doubt Helen, the money isn't here."
"God damn it Jake, I told you it was for emergencies!" This time she was unable to hold back her voice completely, before reigning herself and once more taking the more reasonable, and resigned route, "Okay, you weren't going to be able to deliver the money anyway. But the papers are there right?"
"Yes, yours, Jake's, Quinn's and even Daria's."
"Thank god for small favors. Marianne, could you please go to the living room and take the album marked as 'Highland farewell' from under the TV? The most recent photo of Daria is there." Hearing how her voice broke when telling the name of her missing daughter Frank felt bad for the mother at the other side of the line.
"I go for the album ma'am; you can stay here checking the rest of the papers."
It didn't take too long to find the correct album; they were neatly ordered and clearly labeled. He took a quick peek and saw a multitude of images of two adults who he guessed were the parents and of two girls, one a cute redhead always smiling to the camera, and the other a sour brunette with thick glasses that from one photo to another become suddenly thicker.
On the way back he felt a bit hungry, and for a moment his gaze went to the kitchen. He was tempted to go there and steal a sandwich, but after the self righteous speech he had done outside he find it a little too hypocrite for his own taste.
When he returned to the office he decided not to make himself a burden in there while Marianne, who he had learned by hearing the rest of the instructions done by her boss was a secretary, recollected an impressive pile of papers and neatly organized them on a pile of colored folders in the center of the desk.
"Well, I think is everything minus my agenda, I guess that I leave it at either my room or the kitchen."
He had to hold his mouth at the mention of the kitchen, he was willing to volunteer his services to search the missing agenda, and maybe liberate later some food. But the room of a woman often had jewelry and other valuables and, while he didn't think that Marianne would steal those, he needed to keep an eye anyway.
"Also don't forget to bring a couple of days' worth of clothes for all of us. The doctors say that the drugs are going to purge the toxins out of Jake's by tomorrow morning at the latest, I don't want to risk it, especially since they had to burn all the gear that came in contact with the wilderness."
"Marianne, don't forget that my clothes must be coordinated perfectly. After all I, I mean we, have suffered the last thing that we need is to look as I, a mean we, feel." The voice belonged to a teen girl, and he immediately classified her from his time doing D.A.R.E. duty as a diva.
Then he heard the angry voice of the mother from the speaker, "Quinn, give me back the phone, or I swear I'll tell them to bring you the clothes out of the laundry room."
"Eawww…"
"Don't worry Quinn; I'll try to get you some nice clothes for you." Marianne had a silly smile on her face as she said that. "We're going to the second floor; I'll call you if something else happens Helen."
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Melody could clearly hear two sets of footsteps going up the stairs, a heavy one that she could bet belonged to the policeman, and a different one with the distinct cadence of a woman's heels, the small ones that were a compromise between comfort and an extra inch of apparent height. Her prey had gone upstairs together, and therefore would be harder to defeat, much less to catch one of them alive.
She would have to be patient and hope that she could force open a window of opportunity.
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Marianne was still a little unbelieving of just how normal her boss home was in reality; considering the way she treated everyone in the office, herself included, she would often imagine that her house would be an ordered and impersonal place, with law books and other legal paraphernalia, a small cot alongside her office for sleep, and a large mug of black coffee on hand for her to not use the cot at all. And maybe some bars to keep people inside, after all more than once she had to ask permission to go to the bathroom. However looking at her room she could see all those little sentimental details that could be gathered by a couple and no one else.
She could feel Winston behind her, so she let her little fantasies aside for the moment and went back to work searching for the remaining stuff on the list, starting with the missing agenda.
"Officer Winston, while I'm looking for Helen's things, could you please help me prepare an overnight bag for Jake?"
"Yes ma'am." At least the cop didn't sound as resentful of his assignment as the beginning, even if he was just as formal.
They expended the next few minutes in peace, putting the clothes inside the one huge suitcase remaining in the closet. As soon as it was done she went trough the room searching for the missing agenda without luck.
"I can't find it anywhere!"
"Have you looked under the bed?" Was the useful advice of Winston, but it was just as useless.
"I think is safe to say that the agenda isn't here. If it's not in the kitchen I'll go to the office for the one is there; is not as complete being only the entries that Helen makes me copy on the firm's ledger but I'll do I hope."
"Now what?"
"I guess that now we go for the girl's clothes and leave. After this I still need to drive to Oakwood." That said she leaved the room with the cop behind her carrying the suitcase.
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Now she could hear their voices, even if the door prevented understanding them. They were moving, probably searching the rooms for something, for the lack of ruckus she assumed that they wanted to leave evidence as much as she did, and therefore they were restricted on the actions they could perform, yet they weren't worried of the noise or the fact that their presence was obvious to any neighbor.
She would have to ask the woman about their rules of engagement after she subdued her.
She checked her watch, in a few more minutes she would ask as many questions as she deemed necessary.
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Collecting the things clothes from both of the girl's rooms was piece of cake, even if he left that particular job to Marianne while he limited himself to carrying the suitcase.
'It's better this way; no way can I know what goes with what on that monstrous closet.' He thought, remembering just how many different clothes were inside the room, and how the only time he tried to help he did made a faux pass with some pink garment that he still had no idea why it was wrong, something to do with fall and summer and god only knew what else. Her current partner attempts to explain what she was looking for were in Chinese as far as he was concerned.
Once she had selected a couple of nice sensible outfits they leaved the room and opened the front door. The difference between both sisters' bedrooms was greater than the one between day and night; in fact he could not imagine two places as different at these ones. Both adults were left speechless for a moment before Frank broke the silence.
"Should I call Child Protective Services.? Because this is quite weird." He was more amused than anything; the creature comforts at sight were more than enough for him not to be overly concerned about the treatment of the owner of the room.
Marianne's laughter then filled the room, even if his joke wasn't that funny to begin with. Soon enough she explained. "Helen is, well, not the easiest boss to work with; a total workaholic if there was ever one. Often Imagine that her home was either a mad house or a prison, and truth to be told I almost expected to see one today. And now this… At least it explains why she once said that one more time explaining the law to Erik, our immediate superior, and she would need to sleep in Daria's room from now on." That finally broke the ice between both of them as they shared an honest smile.
This time the process of selecting something from the wardrobe was far less complex, it seemed that the girl only had one set of clothes seven times over. Even then he distracted himself with one familiar magazine on the floor. It was the latest number of Brutal Mercenary; General Buck Conroy is one crazy violent loony, but he knows his guns like nobody's business, and one of these magazines had been the deciding factor in buying an All American Smith & Wesson Model 910 for a sidearm instead of the M-9s that the department had acquired cheap from the army.
Then after struggling a little to get the remaining outfits inside the old trunk, they leaved the room. It was then that Murphy decided to strike; the handle of the suitcase suddenly broke falling from his hands and spraying a small amount of clothes in the floor. While Marianne helped pack again, I noticed something else missing from what she was going to take to her boss' family.
"I think that we're missing some shaving cream and a razor."
"You're right; also I think Helen and Quinn will appreciate some nice toiletries."
"Go see if there are some in the bathroom while I get the rest of this mess sorted out."
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Melody tensed when she heard the door opening and the lights turned on, she was quite fortunate that the way the bulb was positioned it projected the shadow of the woman entering the bathroom, and even more important concealing her own shape.
She could feel her heart beating so fast that an irrational part of her mind felt that it would explode out of her chest like on a fancy horror movie. She forced herself not to swallow her split, not to breathe harder, and most important than all, not to jump and kill her with the knife she was holding. She had no doubt that she would be able to defeat her with no trouble at all in such enclosed space, but even if she killed her silently, she could clearly heard his partner the cop outside, and that meant that the door was open. And as soon as she killed her, he would probably turn and shoot the hell out of her when she was weighted down by the body, a perfect target.
Taking her hostage was out of the question too, she didn't know how high or low were either of them on the totem pole and by their interactions outside was pretty clear there was no emotional connection, a cardinal rule of hostage is 'never take one that the other side does not care about killing'
"Shaving cream? Here…" It seemed that the woman was searching for certain articles, but for the love of god she couldn't understand why did she wanted shaving cream, or cologne, or shampoo…
'Shit'
She saw the shadow approaching the shower, and she moved as fast as she dared to the opposite side of the shower head. She might be forced to fight after all.
The curtain opened itself a little and she saw a hand going for one of the bottles in a basket hanging from the shower's tube.
"Here is it, I wish I could afford this brand, it smells delicious. Oh well…"
Unlike what most people thought spies believe in luck, both good and bad, even if they don't depend on it, and to not being had on this occasion was a minor miracle as far as she was concerned.
As the woman leaved the bath closing it behind her, she relaxed the grip in her blade. It was almost time to act, and she was sure that it would be on her terms…
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Once they had ordered the things that felt from the suitcase including the toiletries they went downstairs, straight to the kitchen in order to search for the missing agenda in the last place where Helen remembered using it.
And for the second time there weren't any hits. No matter how hungry was Frank feeling, there was no way he would ask for a bite, at least not when the house owner would probably bill the department for anything missing, food included. Much less when the owner had already loss four grand that supposedly were in her fire safe.
Marianne was about to make a call to her boss to tell her the third set of bad news of the trip, the first being that they couldn't give her the emergency money and the second that said money was missing anyways, when suddenly the TV turned itself on, and she could also heard some noise upstairs.
Marianne checked her clock, "Seven thirty; must be their alarms. Where is that remote?"
"You turn off the TV, I'm going upstairs."
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Melody smiled as she heard a simple set of footsteps, her gambit has been successful, by turning the alarm on in her doppelganger's room and in the TV she had managed to separate both operatives. She had already opened the curtain and stood in front of the bathroom's door.
Once he passed with his back to the bath she would strike.
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As he walked towards the door where the sound was emanating Frank felt his heart accelerate, unlike the last time he hadn't considered necessary to turn the lights on, he was only going in and out after all. But now the corridor seemed more sinister, and the room that had amused him before now was creepy as hell, especially with the sound of the bell causing a weird resonance effect in the padded walls, which apparently weren't as soundproof as he expected.
Almost by instinct his hand went towards his gun and he unbuttoned the strap of the holster, entering as if clearing a room during a raid. His eyes covered every inch of the room, and he even checked the closet just in case. Once he was satisfied that it was only his imagination he went and stopped the clock racket.
"Great, now I'm getting paranoid in my old age." He huffed, half in annoyance and half in relief.
Berating himself all the way back to the stairs with his heart still beating like crazy, he was just about to get down when he heard the door.
'Click'
With adrenalin still cursing through his veins he turned around in record time to see it. He couldn't distinguish if it was a boy or a girl; neither could he see the color of its skin nor apparent age.
He could only see a knife in the hand of the target coming straight towards him, too close to issue a warning, too close to even properly aim his gun, almost too close to even fire from the hip.
'Almost.'
BANG!
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I know that Daria got rid of all the evidence linking her to Buck Conroy, but I bet that as soon as she was sure that neither her mother nor Quinn would remember the incident she started buying them again.