Chapter 48 – CSI, Vale

Maybe Jaune might be able to do a little bit better at detective work when the crime scene is as fresh as a daisy.

Unlike yesterday, where Jaune and the gang had to hire a rideshare just to get there, Mrs. Dorean was fully ambulatory and could walk with them back to the apartment complex. On the way, she explained the morbid circumstances of her visit.

"I made hotdish the night before to give Gottleib, as a way to alleviate his stresses so he could focus on…on…on Theo. I went over early in the morning to hand it off to him, but he never answered the door. I kept knocking, and I know he's so…I knew he was so old, and he had so much to stress over. I thought he was…well, that's beside the point. The doors at our place open up even if you don't have the key if you can jostle them at just the right angle, so I let myself in an found him there."

"And then you came to us?" Jaune asked. He could see the reasoning, but at the same time he hoped that the responsibility of solving this case wasn't going to fall to them. Team Job really had little to no idea what they were doing here.

"No. I…I called the police. I had to – it's a crime to not report it, and I thought they might have been able to able to help me save him. But they had me check his pulse, and…" She brushed aside a tear. "…he was gone. Murdered, the same way as his wife."

Jaune didn't want to pat her shoulder, feeling it may have been too familiar. "I'm so sorry, ma'am."

She shook her head and stared back at Jaune with what he least expected – a smile.

"But I'm not stupid. I'm no fool. The police took five minutes to get there, so I photographed everything, and I mean everything. Last time, with Theo, they hid the truth, but I have everything documented on my scroll. The body, the scene, the doors and windows…everything." She let out a rickety breath and shivered. "It was horrible to have to walk around Gottleib and Theo's house with him just laying there, but the last thing he wanted in life was Theo's killer stopped, and you lot are my best…my best real chance at getting justice out of this."

Jaune imagined that she was probably right on that one. The old man knew he wasn't long for this world and had accepted it, based on how he'd spoken, and he seemed far more passionate about his wife's murder than extending his life by taking things easy. Walking to their office might have shaved years off his life, but he did it just the same.

This time will be different, Jaune vowed. We're not too late. We'll actually be able to help this time.

When they got back up the stairs, Gottleib's apartment was cordoned off by yellow police line, the words Do Not Cross – Police Line repeated again and again on loop.

"They took my statement before you got here and let me off," said Mrs. Dorean, guiding Team Job away from the stairwell towards her apartment. "That golden-haired lady is back, the tall jezebel with the whip."

"Miss Goodwitch?" Velvet asked. "She uses a riding crop, not a whip."

"Is that so?" Their host nodded. "Her, then. Goodwish."

Policemen and policewomen were swarming about the apartment like ants on a pile of sugar, but none of the residents of the complex had actually approached their taped off area, so none paid much mind to four more onlookers who kept their distance. Team Job stayed around the stairwell, giving them sufficient visibility of the crime scene without alerting the police to the fact that they were interested.

The doorway to Mr. Gottleib's apartment was still open, as police were going in and out of that area, but Jaune couldn't see anything of value.

He still had a fairly decent mental map of the place, though – pretty much perfect, in fact. "Where did he die?"

"He was lying facedown on the floor of his bedroom," said Mrs. Dorean. "They told him Theo must've cut her neck by accident on a kitchen utensil, but I somehow doubt two folks made the same mistake in the same week – even though I'm sure that's what they'll tell us."

From his current viewpoint, Jaune couldn't make out the bedroom, nor would he be able to if he looked from a different angle. There were too many rooms and walls in the way to give a direct line of sight from the outside directly to where the deceased couple had been sleeping.

There's no way they'd let us in. Two of us are only seventeen, and we have no credentials among the three of us. Maybe if I rolled a natural 20 on luck and had brought on of Mr. Callows' policeman costumes, but I didn't think to bring them.

"Yo, Dorean."

Team Job and the woman in question looked away from Mr. Gottleib's apartment towards the voice that had called them. There was a young, dour-looking man, probably Velvet's age or greater by a few years, who'd approached them. He was heavily hunched over, and his hands were stuffed in the pockets of the light-pink shorts he wore.

"Dennis?" she asked. "Oh, Team Job, this is Dennis. He lives at the apartment. Dennis, these are the folks Gottleib hired to investigate yesterday."

"Mm-hmm. I heard." Dennis averted his eyes to the floor with an almost practiced ease. "Just wanted to say…Gott and Theo's other neighbor, the one on the right. They found his body while you were out."

"Good gods," said Mrs. Dorean.

Velvet's hands rose to cover her mouth. "Holy mother of the Grimm."

Jaune glanced over…and true enough, the next door over was open as well, with a regular flow of police entering as well. He hadn't noticed it in his fixation on the first victim, but it probably had been this whole time.

Dennis just nodded, hunching his back even more, before stalking off to a nearby door. "Though you and the rent-a-cops might want to know."

"Do you know anything about this victim?" Blake asked Mrs. Dorean. "The second man?"

"No," she said quietly. "Not even his name."

Jaune and Blake had taken their witness/new client aside to one of the corners of the walkways to interview her while Velvet looked into the doorway of the second apartment from all angles. The new apartment didn't have the same floorplan as the first one, and there was a slim chance that Velvet, with her high quality hunter-gear camera, might be able to catch sight of a clue that they hadn't been able to get from the first house. She was photographing from a distance.

I bet they think she's from the press, given the style of camera she has. Well, let them. Better that than interloping huntsman frauds.

"He never opened the door when others were around." She glanced both ways and leaned in, as though she needed to tell some great secret. "Between you and me, everyone thinks he's a drug dealer, or something shady like that. Dennis…well, you saw him. He might have been a buyer from that man."

She paused for a second, then her eyes lit up. "That isn't to say he deserved…f-forgive me. All of my neighbors are dying around me, and I'm a little upset about it."

Jaune imagined she would be. She might very well be next, assuming the killers going in a line.

Wait a second.

Why would the killer be going in a line?

Why would they kill the occupants of both apartments?

Murders usually had motives – theft, revenge, racial hatred, or other such reasons. But if whoever was responsible here had such reasons for the elderly couple, why would that reason extend to their sketchy neighbor who had seemingly nothing to do with them aside from sharing a wall?

"I assume there's no reason you could think of why someone would like to kill the other neighbor?" Jaune asked.

As expected, Mrs. Dorean shook her head.

Killing numerous, unrelated people one after the other…it sounds like this might be an axe murderer or something, some kind of serial killer. That might explain Beacon's involvement – they think this is something that'll happen again, and hunters are best suited for handling someone as bloodthirsty as this. Crap, Team Job is really punching above their weight here.

But how would Beacon know that from the first death?

"How about we see those pictures?" Blake asked. "Maybe they'll give us an idea of what to do next."

Jaune hadn't been too keen on that before. Team Job had implied they might've been able to solve the murder of Theo had they been there earlier, and now they were there earlier. With no detective skills under his belt, he feared he would be outing himself as a liar, but that seemed trivial now.

This is about more than our reputations.

Mrs. Dorean handed Blake her scroll, opening up the gallery.

"I'll be happy to hire you folks, if you need it," she said upon giving away the scroll. "I can afford whatever rates you charge. I have money, saving."

"…let's discuss that later," Jaune said.

He wasn't sure how comfortable he felt taking this woman's money after three murders had already taken place, but being actual hired detectives as opposed to onlookers with no stake here might be better for them. Either way, it was a consideration for later.

"Hey! Hey, it's you!" called a voice that Jaune only just sort of recognized. "I didn't know you lived here."

Looking up, Jaune locked eyes with a policeman who stood across from him on the other side of the walkway. In addition to the voice, the face of the man also looked familiar.

It took a few seconds for Jaune to recognize him.

He's the guy outside of Tyrian's place. S-word, he knows me as a construction man or something! Oh, serious S-word!

Jaune nodded and waved to the man, hoping that it wasn't going to amount to anything…and it didn't!

Oh thank the Brothers, he's turning away.

Evidently, seeing a familiar face wasn't an excuse for a police officer to step away from his official duties on the scene of a double homicide. Jaune wasn't thankful for that, but it probably saved him a lot of trouble.

The man went back into the apartment of Mr. Gottleib.

That was a close one.

"Jaune," Blake said curtly.

"Hmmm?"

"Goodwitch is looking our way."

Blake handed Mrs. Dorean her scroll back as the elder huntress came their way. "You should probably go back to your apartment, ma'am."

Jaune had no idea if it was for the woman's protection or to avoid her witnessing Team Job having to face the woman who knew they were frauds, but the lady scurried back to safety with no objections. Apparently, the specter of Goodwitch was just as intimidating to her as it was to them.

To Mrs. Dorean, she's little more than a corrupt huntress covering up the murder of next-door neighbors. Not much room for admiration there…

Jaune looked over and saw that Velvet had her back turned to them and was currently facing the wall. Her head was tilted at a way that obscured her face to the police and the professor coming towards her teammates, but Jaune could still see her eyes darting his way.

He shook his head lightly and nodded towards the apartment.

Just keep trying to see what you can, Vel. You don't need to face your old teacher today if you don't want to. Leave this to us.

"Greetings, students," said Goodwitch.

"We aren't students," Jaune said back before he could think.

Goodwitch frowned, but she had nothing to say in response to Jaune's true statement. Neither Jaune Arc nor Blake Belladonna had ever truly attended Beacon, so they weren't students of hers.

The true huntress folded her arms, riding crop in hand. "I'm afraid this is an active crime scene, and I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"We were invited…hired, that is, by one of the complex's residents to investigate," Jaune responded. "And at no point have we interfered with police investigations."

"We've steered quite clear of the police tape," added Blake, for good measure.

"Be that as it may, I'm afraid we cannot have children thinking they're permitted to play hunters when you have the potential of getting in the way of real authority's work. You have no business being here."

Jaune checked quickly with Blake, getting a look of approval for him to take the lead.

Alright, then. Time to shine.

"Ma'am, we were hired by Mr. Gottleib before he passed away, and his neighbor – his surviving neighbor, that is, has –"

"Immaterial." Goodwitch glared down at Jaune with a far sterner look than he was used to. Her disapproval of them back at Beacon quailed in comparison to this. "This is a private apartment complex. Members of the public are not permitted."

"As I said, we are here on behalf of our client, who has asked us to –"

"Mr. Arc."

Jaune struggled not to break under her bespectacled gaze. "…asked us to be present. We're here legally, ma'am."

"Your pretend company exists because the headmaster is gracious enough to let it." The glasses slide up her nose without her touching them. "Do not test me."

"I'm afraid that's untrue, ma'am." Jaune reminded himself that Goodwitch had no actual grounds to arrest him, for antagonizing her like this felt like asking for trouble. Still, it wasn't like they could just back down because Beacon wanted them to. "Furthermore, we haven't interfered with this investigation, nor have we entered any area we aren't permitted to."

"Alright, I've heard enough." Jaune found his body suddenly frozen solid. "You're leaving."

Panic took in as he struggled to move his arms and legs, but the limbs felt like they were encased in a thick layer of cement. It only got worse when he tried to move his mouth to protest and found himself unable to.

I…I can't breathe!

Though his head was stuck in its current position, his eyes could still move within their sockets, and he looked to Blake for aid.

She was just as paralyzed as he was. Not a muscle in her body seemed to be moving; the eerie sensation honestly reminded Jaune of looking at a photograph.

The world suddenly dropped down, and Jaune realized he was being lifted in the air by Professor Goodwitch's semblance. "I will deposit you outside on the streets, and you may consider yourselves under arrest if you attempt to force entry a second time. I urge you not to test me, students."

Jaune could barely even perceive the trip downstairs, for he was more focused on regaining his ability to breathe. After ten seconds of agonizing failure to inhale or exhale, Jaune realized he could passively let air go up and down his nasal passage if he did his best not to strain and just relax instead.

The world bobbed up and down as they descended to the ground floor and out the breezeway. Jaune recognized each upward and downward movement as a step Goodwitch took on the steps down, but his comprehension of anything else was severely limited by his inability to move his head and by the dizziness that came with having a completely stationary, unwilling body.

"Good day," the blonde-haired woman said, carefully setting them down telepathically on the sidewalk. Both Jaune and Blake gasped for breath as she went back into the apartment complex, shutting the main gate behind her.

"Gods, what a bitch," Blake said, struggling for air.

Jaune would have agreed with her if he weren't nearly on the verge of passing out. He'd had a few close calls, especially when the sudden cessation of movement had come as a shock and he'd still been adjusting to it.

For whatever reason, perhaps better aura control, Blake was able to get back up on her feet faster than he could, but she helped him once she was.

"I'll buzz us in," Blake said.

Jaune shook his head. "I'd be amazed if Goodwitch hadn't declared martial law over the doorbell buzzer. And even if Mrs. Dorean does let us in, there's no way we can force Goodwitch to let us stay."

"But she has no legal right to keep us out!"

Jaune shook his head sadly. "You're wrong, Blake. Her legal right to keep us out is that fact that she's physically able to with that semblance of hers, and the fact that the police and justice department will side with the deputy of Beacon over two crooks any day. It doesn't matter that we didn't cross the police line – she'll arrest us for a vague charge like obstructing justice or wasting police time and crush us in court."

Blake growled and kicked her shoe into the pavement on the street. "Fuck! It's just like with the White Fang – all we did was protest in the early days, and they'd arrest us for 'inciting!' Gods, I fucking hate hunters."

"Careful with the namedropping," Jaune suggested, unaware of how many passersby might be listening in or whether or not a police officer might suddenly exit the building at any moment and overhear them. "Also, I know now isn't the time, but it's not hunters that are at fault. Goodwitch herself is the B-word." Jaune imagined Velvet wouldn't appreciate her peers being blanket-insulted by Blake, not after the row they'd had last time over the same issue.

"Fucking Goodwitch," Blake swore. "Fucking Ozpin, probably telling them all how we're dangerous or rebellious or something."

Blake certainly seemed rebellious right now, but that was probably something to do with the fact that the possibly illegal use of a semblance had just been inflicted on her. Of course, Goodwitch could just say they were being rowdy or failing to comply to justify herself. Vigilantism, even, if she wanted to put their entire company on trial in addition to any of the three of them.

Any vague explanation would be enough to get an arrest warrant in our names, given that a lot of laws leave some leeway when it comes to detaining potential criminals. Team Job is too small to win against all of Beacon and their close allies in the justice system, even if we're in the right here.

Velvet came down with her camera about fifteen minutes later. Jaune and Blake were waiting for her across the street on a public bench when she arrived.

"I…I stayed and documented it as long as I could without drawing too much attention to myself. If I could have gone back to Mrs. Dorean for her scroll, I would have, but the police got squirrelly when Goodwitch kicked you out, so I –"

"It's fine, Vel," Jaune said.

It wasn't like they were going to be getting very far on this case if the hunters were determined to exclude them from it and the entire building it was in.

"I did get some good pictures. I think there are even some bullets in one?"

Team Job gathered around Anesidora, which doubled as a normal camera with an exceptionally fine lens when the moment called for a non-weapon photo.

Due to the fact that Velvet had to stay significantly far away from the door to avoid being detected as an interloping member of the heinous Team Job, her range of photos across the inside of the house was limited. Still, what she did document was high quality.

"Those're definitely rounds," Blake said, describing a photo of said items on the ground with a small metal plate next to it in what appeared to be a wooden-floored living room area. The number nine was printed into the plate.

"It's an evidence marker," Velvet explained. "They identify it with a fiducial so that they can recognize it later when comparing to the photos. That means they consider those bullets important."

Leaning in for a closer look, Jaune realized something rather odd, in his opinion.

"They don't look at all like the bullets Gambol uses," Jaune noted.

"That's because they're normal bullets, the kind non-hunter firearms use," Blake explained. "You can own a gun with a permit in Vale, but it can't fire explosive ammunition. That'd be too much."

"Could this be the bullet that killed our victims?" Jaune asked.

"Unlikely," Velvet said. "There's no blood. Plus, we had two necks cut. Um, Blake…"

"I noticed it as well."

"Noticed what?" Jaune inquired, starting to feel like an idiot for how much he needed explained to him.

"The bullets are crunched up, meaning they hit something hard, like a metal wall or a slab of concrete," Velvet said.

"But they're in the middle of the room, with nothing solid around them at all." Blake pointed to the picture. "See? All of the walls are wooden, or even weaker."

"So…"

Jaune tried to reason it out in his own head, hoping that he might not need to have it explained to him again.

The bullets hit something solid, but it was in the middle of the room.

They weren't used to kill the victim…that means, maybe…maybe the victim used them? He tried to defend himself, but he missed?

Beacon was here.

Jaune's breath hitched in his throat.

Or maybe he didn't miss. Maybe he shot his attacker, but those bullets did nothing to stop them. Maybe they bounced off of the killer and dropped to the ground without accomplishing a darned thing.

"F-word me," Jaune said, realizing the same conclusion Velvet and Blake had come to long ago. "The serial killer has aura."

Whoever had done this was a hunter.

Coming Soon: Henhouse

There's a fox loose in the neighborhood, and it's up to the guard d̶o̶g̶ cat to stop it.