Starring:
Guest Starring:
, Officer Parker
Date: April 2nd, 2010
Summary:
"Fishing"
It's not only the changing of shifts at the police station, but something resembling a lunch hour, which brings the highest amount of actual officers into the building aside from if there were an actual emergency. A line forms at the vending machine, and business that doesn't require being on the streets gets quickly handled. As for the former, Officer Parker has already been; in the hand not holding half a sandwich, he's got a regular old can of soda that cost him too many quarters. Neither of these things are really keeping his attention, though, as much as he'd like them to appear to. Rather, he's parked against the side of a desk of someone he barely knows with some thinly veiled excuse — all the better to keep an eye on the chief's closed door. A while ago, behavioral consultant Laurence Miles was invited inside to have a 'chat' — a chat that demanded the office blinds be closed — and he's been in ever since.
That damn vending machine. Maggie has little interest in the goodies it holds, but she does have an interest in maneuvering past it. Performing the maneuvering required to slide through the row of officers counting their quarters with a mumbled "excuse me" or two, trying to be polite rather than shoulder her coworkers, the detective eventually makes her way toward her desk. She's been here for awhile, but holed up in Records for most of that time — a few folders held against the slate grey of the vest she wears atop one of her notoriously plain white blouses evidence where she's been. No pun intended.
Maggie knows that stare of Officer Parker's and, almost reluctantly, finds her gaze following to the closed blinds. She winds up striding past her desk to pause near Officer Parker. "Did I hear something about Miles being in there?" Pause. "The vending machines are a gossip hub. I wouldn't have thought police officers were as bad as old women."
"Ohh yeah," Officer Parker replies a little too enthusiastically, glancing so quickly to the side at his new company that he doesn't register who it is. "Budget's been tight lately, and without another serial case— " Upon his double-take, the young officer realizes it's Detective Powers there. He simultaneously straightens out of his relaxed pose, glances around as if not to be caught staring at the potentially important meeting beyond closed doors, and clears his throat until his tone comes out more somber. "Terrible, terrible gossiping. The guys should know better." Stern glare over his shoulder for all those silly officers who hover about like that. Tsk.
Detective Powers sees right through Officer Parker — she doesn't even need to use her detective skills to realize he's backpedaling. From gossiping. "They should. Gossip is bad for the soul." There is a small modicum of amusement behind her eyes, however, but it might take detective skills on the officer's part to see it, especially because she only glances at him for a matter of seconds. Her eyes are on that mysterious window, inquisitive. She poses her question casually, on the contrary. "How long has he been in there?"%
The poor officer, he misses any and all amusement because he's too bashful to truly meet the detective's eyes now that he's been caught. Gossip is a new thing for him: evident in how he still manages to be embarrassed by it. "Well," he poses, trying to sound official and detailed, "He came in around noon, went right to your desk like he knew you weren't gonna be there. I asked him was he needing something, he says he's just leaving. But then chief comes out, calls him in. Guess it's been…" He raises a hand to eye an old watch, "Well, it's already been half an hour."
"Wait, he was at my desk?" Maggie instinctively (and suspiciously) glances over her shoulder, as if she could ascertain if anything is out of place from this distance. As a matter of fact, she very well may. By the time she looks back — past Officer Parker, back to the office window — her brow is furrowed and a frown is attempting to place itself on her lips. She crosses her arms, hanging on to those folders. "Well I wouldn't be surprised if the chief sends him packing." The detective sounds altogether neutral about the possibility, but she keeps narrowing her eyes at those window blinds. "…That wasn't gossip, by the way. I'm just saying. He hasn't been part of a case that closed since he came here."
"Ummm. Yes?" For which he actually means 'yes, and he left something'; something that Maggie's suspicious glance will easily pick up as being a long thin package next to her computer. Otherwise everything appears to be exactly as she left it. Officer Parker, meanwhile, clears his throat again to hide that his mouth really really wants to smile to the sound of those comments. "Yeah, uh. Of course not. Ma'am. Statistics don't lie. Don't know why they need thirty minutes just to say what you did right there. Hey, uh… completely unrelated, but aren't those also your cases? I heard about your Tabula suspect. Totally weird."
Thanks for reminding her. "Yeah, totally weird," Maggie repeats in lingo uncharacteristic for her, perhaps a little bitter about that case and every other case that goes unsolved. Her arms fold tighter across her vest. She can only eye the office for so long before the memory of that package on her desk burns a hole in the back of her head. Distracted, in her mind, she's already on her way to her desk, but in reality she turns to face Officer Parker first. "You don't call me ma'am," she says with a kind smile. "…you call me Detective."
With that, she whisks away from the officer, only uncrossing her arms when she reaches her desk. She drops the folders down on it and sinks down into her chair to pull the package close to her. She attempts to open it gingerly, seeming unsure whether to treat it as a present or a potential bomb.
Well. It's not a bomb. Probably. It is making no characteristic ticking noises, so the cliche route is at least out. Also, as the protective part of the wrapping falls away, there's the tempting suave colors of a box of chocolates. White chocolates. Really, really expensive white chocolates. Only, right over the really, really gourmet brand-name there's a bright yellow post-it note with writing in big bold letters: DON'T EAT ME.
The reason would be revealed should Maggie open the chocolates and discover that the little tubes inside are not, in fact, filled with candy goodness but… gouache paint.
Once she's over the idea that she's been given paints disguised as candy — and there is no candy at all — she may turn over the post-it and read: THE REAL CHOCOLATES ARE IN YOUR DESK DRAWER.
The whole reveal is taken with a grain of salt. Maggie blinks numerous times over throughout the step-by-step process. "Don't— what…" she mumbles under her breath. Is that paint? After flipping the post-it over, she snaps the cover shut suddenly, pauses, and glances around the station. After all, a pretty box of chocolates is a little out of place, particularly on her desk, and what if someone got the wrong idea? For that matter— what on earth is the right idea?
She reaches down hesitantly toward her desk drawer — which is, conversely, pulled open swiftly. Voila, chocolates. She sets the box of keenly disguised paint inside on top of them and shuts the drawer, shoves the wrapping aside, and promptly opens one of the two folders on her desk, leaning an elbow beside it and propping her head up with a hand, focusing on the details within.
… A moment later, Maggie's normally steely focus falters and she eyes the chief's office.
Any fight to focus attention may have to go on a bit longer.
It isn't until fifteen more minutes later that the chief's office door swings open. Since it's the chief's door, it isn't surprising that it immediately gets the eye of several nearby officers. The prize the gossipers have been waiting for is only seconds behind. There are some muffled thank-yous and well-wishing from inside before Laurie steps out into the main bullpen. He doesn't stop there, either; he completely breezes right through the station without a pause nor hesitation for anyone there or even a stray glance away from his final destination: the exit.
Besides several glances prior, by the time the chief's door opens, Maggie's strong will has overcome curiosity and she's flipping through paperwork and crime scene photos — bodies burned by acid. Not a case she's leaving behind her any time soon no matter what the psychiatrist says. Like many, her head does snap up to direct toward Laurie and the chief. Bright blue eyes, wide, track him all the way to the exit.
With a vaguely irritated sigh to herself, the detective slams the folder shut and wheels back from her desk, getting to her feet to cut a brisk path through the bullpen to the exit in an attempt to catch up with Laurie, even if it means catching the door. "Hey!" she calls out. That over with, her voice immediately quiets to its normal soft tone. "What happened with the chief?"
She gets him — for all the five seconds it takes Laurie to glance over his shoulder and meet her eye. He may be shrugging, but it flows so smoothly into the act of him turning away from her again that it's hard to tell. As it turns out, his legs are just longer than hers, and he is down most of the stairs in front of the building as she's stopping the door from closing on herself.
There's also the sudden touch of a hand on her shoulder before those long black coat-tails have fully disappeared. Standing just inside the door, Officer Parker is a mixed bag of apologetic and something more confused. Still, he manages to look at her professionally enough when he has to announce, "They found a body in the water."
One hand pushing and keeping the door open, Maggie turns from looking outside to Officer Parker — and the news he bears. She's momentarily caught in limbo, between figuring out what happened to Laurie from the man himself — which, in retrospect, may have been impossible — and work calling. But the choice is simple. Her frozen stance does not last long.
The door to the outside world promptly shuts as Maggie strides past Officer Parker to prepare to move out. "What do we know?"
( "http://www.entertonement.com/clips/dhhhfhvyws--Law-Order-GavelTV-Law-Order-Gavel-SpongeBob-" )
The weather's appropriately gray, with moody clouds hovering over the scene of gathered men and women in blue by the Manhattan shoreline. Across the waves, Queens and Brooklyn, and the beyond fishing waters where the James Joseph II was headed for its first early spring test-run before the fishing party business picked up in exactly two weeks. "The James Joseph starts its normal schedule on the 16th," Officer Parker reiterated, bracing against the colder air by the water, "They were just supposed to be running the route for warm-up but one of the guys decided to put down a line for fun. That's when they pulled up our Jane Doe's shoe. The cut wire is making 'em say she was probably attached to a weight that must've broke. Mapping currents, we were able to scour the shore and, well…"
He glances down the couple of treacherous natural steps to where a young girl's blue and bloated body waits, being gently slopped against the rocks with every in and out of the water. Dressed in soggy jeans and t-shirt, she won't be pulled out of this undignified position until the detectives and cameras are content in having seen the undisturbed scene.
One tech is already crouched nearby, gloves upped, and he turns to any approaching officials. "No ID so far."
Detective Powers heads down to the scene. Since leaving the station, she threw on a long grey coat, unbuttoned. Her vest would have concealed what it needed to — namely, her weapon — but the air off the water is chilly. The detective is painted in a palette as grey as the sky.
After trekking carefully down near the shore where the tech is, she stands overlooking the body. Her narrowed gaze projects a calm, calculating sense, and while that is accurate to what is going on in her mind, what her demeanour leaves out is: why does it have to be the water? Maggie has no love for anything aquatic and her bout with the frozen lake months ago did nothing but cement her distinct dislike of bodies of water. It is, clearly, a death pool. "Cause of death?" she ventures. Could be too early, or it could be obvious.
It's no secret that some of the better informed officers on scene may be watching Powers for that thing which her demeanor is purposefully ignoring; everyone heard her having those fights about psychological exams, and nothing worse than not seeing warning signs when it comes to a detective breaking down.
But the tech is professional, or, at least, desensitized. He adjusts the windbreaker that identifies his position and leans over the body to point two gloved fingers at the girl's well-abused skin. "Hard to say with all the water damage. These bumps on her head could be it, or from being buffeted against this shoreline a few miles." He gestures back against the tide, along the shore — where observers are beginning to gather in whatever available spots they can. It's afternoon; plenty of people are out and about. "We'll have to determine time of death to properly estimate how far down she came from. Right now, though? My first guess?" Shifting forward, he brushes away some of the long brown hair, "These bruises here on the neck. I'd wager strangulation, even with the swollen skin."
Maggie grimaces faintly at the sight of the body — moreso the injuries. "Okay," she says mostly under her breath, but in part to the tech. She studies the body several more moments herself before her gaze lifts to the water. A frown shows but, hey, a girl has died, it's absolutely normal to frown. She's not as desensitized as some in her line of work. Her attention manages to lift off the waves to the James Joseph thoughtfully. "That wire, what grade is it? It broke but it'd still have to be pretty heavy-duty to keep her down there for any length of time."
"I think evidence took that," tech tells her, adjusting to a better crouch and bracing a hand against his forehead to look at her properly through the breeze. "With the shoe, and the witnesses from the boat." Since she already glanced in that direction, he doesn't feel required to point out the James Joseph or the huddle of its crew and captain being held on the deck for any further questioning and a full forensics run-down of the ship. Most of them don't look happy about it — but who would?
Maggie starts to turn and move back up to more solid ground, leaving the capable to do his job. It's the boat she heads toward, striding to wear it's docked. The notion of stepping on a boat isn't her favourite, but at least it's not moving any time soon. She weaves her way past a few officers, not glancing back to see if Officer Parker is on her heels or not. She casts a frown toward a few onlookers beyond the crime scene tape before boarding the ship to find out who took the initiative to set up the questioning and to find the unlucky fisherman.
The ship only bobs up and down, as ships will do, but it's moored quite securely to allow for the number of police needed to secure such a wide, public space as where this is all taking place. There's only one officer standing with the fishermen, making sure they stay put until someone as qualified as Detective Powers comes along, surely. Which may explain the look of impatience on the captain's face. The other facial spreads are shaken to saddened, the worst of which is reserved for the plaid-dressed man set just slightly aside the others, earning him the right of a chair. Even if she doesn't notice, Parker is there by her side the whole walk over but he breaks off at the ship's ramp for what he does best — crowd-control.
The detective's plain, brown boots thump slightly on the deck. She gives a nod and quick, polite smile to the officer onboard. Her focus fixes on the man in plaid, but she also recognizes one man who seems to be the ooat captain, and out of respect, she moves to him first. "Hi, Detective Maggie Powers, you must be the captain," she says with a hand outstretched to shake. She soon keeps walking, however, nodding for him to follow. She's polite, but wastes no time in doing her job. "Is the man over there the fisherman responsible for pulling the victim's shoe out of the water?"
The captain excuses himself from the handshake by showing her that his are still covered in the evidence of his hobby, but he nods politely enough and, with a glance to his men, moves with the detective. "Marcus," he grunts, sparing a slightly longer look for that troubled one. "He isn't taking it very well, either. Can't blame him. Yet all he did was pull up that poor gal's shoe. Hope the monster responsible is feelin' it dozen times worse." And here he manages to look away from Maggie before spitting fiercely.
"…Yeah, so do I, Captain." Maggie gives the man a smile of her gratitude and lifts her hand slightly at him — to stay nearby, she might need to question him later — before moving to the man indicated. Knowing he's shaken up, her voice is a touch gentler, a tone which suits it easily. "Marcus. My name is Detective Powers, I understand you led us to the body. What can you tell me about what happened?" It seems straightforward … but there's always the details.
"Ummm…" Marcus clearly attempts to make himself more presentable when this sweet-voiced detective shows up, but it takes a bit of blinking and a bit more stuttering. "Well. We, uh — the guys and I — decided to take the Joseph out for a turn. You know, take the ol' path. Make sure everything was fit and sound for the upcoming rounds. All standard — I mean, we don't usually go out this early, not for actual fishing — but it's a common enough procedure to take 'er for a spin." He raises a fist to cough heavily into it, then brushing the fingers against his pants. "So we get out to the locale, and I think — hey, be kinda fun to just drop a line there. Let us have a little more time to ourselves on the water before we have to go home." An awkward chuckle. "I cast out a couple of times before I snagged it. Knew it was weird right away. Nothing catches so fast like that, and no real fight beyond the weight… that's when I… well, I reeled in that — her shoe, and — …"
Maggie can fill in the blanks; she gives Marcus a smile, trying to let him know she gets it. "The line you dropped, about how far would you say it was when it hooked the shoe?" She finds herself glancing out toward the water, envisioning the fisherman's surprise. "I take it you've never come across anything like this before. Did you suspect right away there was a body?" The question is utterly serious but she follows up on a lighter note: "People lose their shoes all the time in New York for reasons I … have yet to figure out."
Marcus spreads a hand out to the side, "Oh, this is New York. Stuff comes up all the time. Magazines, and, like, lighters and shit all over the shores sometim— oh! Pardon my language, detective. No, it was all the line, see. Gummed up some of the equipment pretty bad, pissed the captain right off. But we call in and all, you know, anyway. It's just a good idea, when you're out on the water, and you never want to throw away something somebody might be looking for. But the line, and the plastic wrap just didn't seem right so close to a lady's shoe."
"Well, I'm glad it was called in," Detective Powers says, glancing back to the captain for a moment as well. "It could have been a long time before someone found her, if you hadn't decided to go fishing." It seems strange to commend the man for his morbid discovery, but it's true. "Can either of you say about how many other vessels cover about the same area of water as you this time of year?"
"Yes, it's his rules," Marcus supplies helpfully when he notes where she's looking. He attempts a bit of a brave nod at her approval, but he mostly still looks uncomfortable. Right up until her next question seems to startle him out of the funk. "Oh, I could… but captain's much better. He knows alla the names." Another gesture into the air towards his superior, "Well, that's why he wrote up that list for the other guy who asked. Wouldn't it be easier to just ask your partner for that?"
"…Excuse me for a minute. Thanks for your time." With an admirable attempt to disguise her bewilderment behind professionalism, Maggie turns away from Marcus and steps past even the captain to seek out Officer Parker. With a start, she finds him closer than she expected. "Parker, was— " No, she'll go with something more general than her sense tells her. "Do you know who was on the scene first? It wasn't us. I have my suspicions…"
In the midst of waving his hands and reassuring bystanders that this is all being taken care of and they can go about their days, Officer Parker is glad to step aside on official business in regards to Maggie. His thick eyebrows tug briefly, though, as he visibly feels out her questions. "First? The officers who responded to the call, found the body. I… don't believe we have record of any other badges reporting in. Are you looking for O'Meara? We can give him a call…"
"One of two men who never follow procedure on my cases," Maggie states, an annoyed edge finding purchase in her voice. At least Officer Parker always seems to listen to her without her having to ask. "Okay… yeah, give him a call." she says distractedly, moving off and scanning the figures along the shore — the men and women in blue, the bystanders. O'Meara is many things but early and an over-achiever aren't usually among them unless. She slides her cell phone out of her pocket to suspiciously find MILES, LAURIE on her contacts and call it.
Officer Parker sort of eyes Maggie with wonder for a moment, but it's a moment that he's also walking off to do just that — always listens to her, indeed! Meanwhile, her cellphone begins its process of ringing the other side. Ring. Riiing. Riiiiiing. It gets to perhaps the first moment where someone might wonder what they'll leave as a message if the person doesn't pick up and the ringing abruptly stops —
A din of other people in the background picks up first. Some kind of machinery rumbling. Then, over that, Laurie's voice: "What can I do for you?"
The rumbling noise is duly noted, and there's a pause before Maggie herself answers. Back to the scene of boats and bodies and Brooklyn, she narrows her eyes entirely to herself. "… Miles, where are you right now?" Remembering who she's talking to, she quickly follows up with, "And where were you before that?"
Laughter. Not Laurie's, but muffled and somewhere nearby him — he doesn't speak for a moment, and the laughter quieting to a dull chuckle may have something to do with his interference. Still, there's the hint of a grin in his voice when he's back to the conversation: "Well. I'm on a deck. And before that, I wasn't on a deck. I was right before the deck, preparing to walk onto the deck. That I am now on. It's a nice one. As far as decks go." More laughter. This time the consultant audibly tells everyone to shhhh.
"A— a deck," Maggie repeats. Not incredulously, no, it would be a stretch to say she's surprised. "What kind of deck? Are you on a boat? Because I have a fisherman here saying someone was already on their boat asking questions." There is something chastising about the detective's voice, but mostly — mostly — she's just trying to figure out Laurie. "He told me that after I repeated the question."
When the noise in the back gets even even quieter, it's obvious Laurie's walked somewhere else. He also sounds distinctly less giggly when he lays out: "Come on, Powers. You've already figured it out. Are you asking me because you need me to back you up, or you're too shy to act on it?" Without giving her barely a pause to work in, the commotion picks back up. "So, yes, I'm on a boat. Take a good hard look." Someone's shouting for him to get off the phone already. Merry and drunk once again, he concludes: "Wish you were here!"
— Dial-tone.
"I'm asking because I want you to— " Maggie is speaking to a dial tone. She realizes this now, and sighing, continues for no one's benefit but her own. If that. "… to follow some kind of rules…" But no, she's forced to use her detective skills to track down Laurie instead of a killer for the time being. Lowering the phone, she turns around, looks, listens, tries to ascertain just where he is. The boat she was just on didn't seem quite so lively…
In fact, nothing around here seems that lively. The Joseph James II had to be last-minute docked to accommodate the bodily discovery, and everyone around is somber for the news of the girl. Cameras are beginning to arrive. If he's on a boat, it isn't here.
A sigh is emitted detective, but it's more thoughtful than tired or annoyed. It doesn't take her long to realize her course of action — which is to continue doing her job. And so Maggie marches back to the James Joseph, during which time she's too focused to pay attention to Officer Parker and whatever news he may have; it's the captain she wants. "Sorry to bother you again Captain. I'm going to need that list of vessels again after all."
( "http://www.entertonement.com/clips/dhhhfhvyws--Law-Order-GavelTV-Law-Order-Gavel-SpongeBob-" )