2009-10-05: If She Doesn't Scare You



Date: October 5th, 2009


Detective Maggie Powers gets someone in the Interrogation Room to question, but he isn't a suspect. Probably. Also, the NYPD may or may not like puppies.

"If She Doesn't Scare You"


[{>:::::::::::::::::::::{Downtown, NYC - Police Station}:::::::::::::::::::::<}]

Blocky grey walls make up the police station. It's dim and busy in here: there are no shortage of men and women in blue coming and going, as well as civilians being ushered one way or another. A reception desk, made up of half an octagon, greets visitors. A world of many bulletin boards and activity lies beyond the desk, as well the entrance to other areas of the station, such as the interrogation rooms, holding, and offices.

Monday. Manic Monday, you might say, with low-down dirty criminals being hassled into holding cells and paperwork filling up the inboxes of the desks of detectives. An array of evidence and related photos line one movable wall for the latest case that plagues the minds of New York's brightest. It would, all in all, seem like a very general working day. There's even Officers Tinley and Parker in the corner by the break-room. Tinley looks ready to bust the next no-good bully that looks at him the wrong way — namely, the vending machine. "Look, maybe it's broken," Parker points out evenly, watching his partner grimace and rattle the machinery.

"They're all gone," Tinley counters huffily, wandering back into the main area of the bullpen to regroup. A glance towards the back where some kind of flashing lights seem to be going on sufficiently distracts him. "Do we have someone in Interrogation right now?"

And they do, in fact. He's a middle-aged man, blond, who's kept himself in shape enough to pull off the dress coat and jeans look. They're jeans that are in full display, too, because he's thrown his legs up onto the interrogation table in a most relaxed fashion. The flashing lights happen to be the screen of a television on wheels that also didn't used to be in the room. It's playing "101 Dalmations". There appears to be an entire vending machine's supply of Snickers bars in his lap.

Meanwhile, at the corner of the utilitarian (read: boring) desk that belongs to Detective Powers, a thirty-something blonde woman stands rifling through various files and folders, undoing their neat organization and turning it into a tornado of documents and office supplies. That woman happens to be the detective herself, who must have just came in from outside, given that she hasn't removed her coat yet. It's red — little red riding hood red — and long, neatly collared and deep-pocketed. The attire underneath, however, is nothing but plain: a cream-coloured blouse, black slacks, belt that's positioned less-than-fashionably.

"O'Meara, have you seen the screen from forensics— " O'Meara isn't here. Rolling her eyes since he isn't here to see her roll her eyes, Maggie, hands in her coat pockets, heads over to Tinley and Parker. "Hey guys, have you seen O'Meara?" Okay, it's pretty obvious they're distracted by something — and that something, naturally, catches the detective's attention. She rarely misses anything. She leeeans to one side to look past the officers. "Do we have someone in Interrogation?" she unknowingly mimics. She takes the initiative to whisk toward interrogation room and eye the glass. Pause. Stare. "…what, is he a witness in a case against Cruella de Vil or something? Whose suspect is this?"

Even the approach of Detective Powers can't pull Parker and Tinley away from staring - even poor, puppy-crushing Parker - because if this is a new interrogation technique, then they want to know what's what. As they trail after her to approach the viewing glass, the screen inside flips over to the two bumbling thugs watching "What's My Crime" on their own animated TV. The mounting parallels are far too much for the side-characters officers to notice and they, instead, turn towards the one who should know better. "He's not yours?" Parker asks in bewilderment. "I don't know…" He starts to glance nervously around the station, "I didn't hear anything coming in…" He clearly doesn't want to look the fool in front of the blonde detective.

Meanwhile, the spectacle inside seems to be content to peel away the label of yet another chocolate candy bar of satisfaction. As tiny adorable puppies attempt to make their secretive ways around their baddie kidnappers, the watching man bends slightly forward for something in his pocket. Without looking back at the one-way glass, he pulls out a plastic rectangle and clips it onto his shoelace where, thanks to his current lounging state, it becomes visible to the audience beyond. It's a Visitors badge. Yes, for this station.

Detective Powers is among the fools, not that she'd admit that to Tinley and Parker — still, she has nothing but a clueless stare after their question. Nope, this guy isn't hers. Maggie's eyes narrow, not … with hostility, per se, but she definitely has some questions. Such as: is that a Visitor's badge? Yes, it is. "…I'll sort this out, boys," she says, a hand emerging from her coat to wave the officers off. She smiles at the pair — a smile that fades in favour of vaguely disapproving suspicion by the time she pushes open the door to Interrogation a moment later. "Can I get you some popcorn?"

Enter Cruella. No, really, at that very moment she rages onto the scene in all her fur-obsessed glory. That's it for her, though, because, just after throwing Jasper's alcohol in the fire, she gets paused. Laurence Miles' attention slides from the screen to his new company, his expression devoid of any excuses, embarrassment, or really any judgment at all. Hefting his feet off the table, he twists so that he can sit at the table normally, facing Powers. A hand is extended across that lap of Snickers, but it not offered to her. Instead, he just relinquishes the TV remote onto the table. "Did you know that in the original book Cruella is a pampered heiress and her hen-pecked husband the furrier?"

"And she wanted to drown her cat's kittens. Even Cruella de Vil is nicer through Disney." The detective smiles as she steps inside — the door, through its very nature, shuts neatly behind her on its own. Maggie's smile is friendly, even for this so-called visitor, but… it has a distinct time limit on it. She eyes him critically. "Are you waiting for someone, Misteeeer….?" she name fishes. "This isn't exactly a waiting area, so unless you're a suspect— "

"Nicer," Laurie muses, giving a low chuckle, "Maybe you're a cat person." He isn't so much smiling back at her as looking graciously bemused. It continues as he one by one puts all the candy bars on the table. "Actually, she's notably more deranged in the Disney version. Full of rage. She doesn't look like an heiress, she looks like a has-been." The Snickers secure, he pushes to his feet. "Laurie," name thus supplied, "Without the mister. And I haven't quite decided about the suspect yet… could be…" He seems to idle off, glancing to the side. Then he's back, "Anyway! Everyone seemed so busy out there. Very crowded." He spares a glance for the wall that is the viewing glass, though he can't really see through it to the bustling bullpen.

"I'm not much of a… movie… person— " Maggie won't be sidelined for long. She glances at the viewing glass as well, following this 'Laurie's' gaze curiously. Once again, her eyes narrow. "Well, I'm going to have to ask that you leave. The interrogation room, at least. We might need it for— you know, actual interrogation. I'm Detective Powers, by the way. Can I help you find someone?" That line would have been more apropos if she truly worked Missing Persons.

Laurie has a narrowed gaze for Maggie, as well, but his is a bit more of a squint of curiosity. "Because you thought I… wouldn't leave if a bad guy came in there, Detective Powers?" He points towards the door with a small accompanying head-tilt. Then he winds around the table, coming up beside her and biting into the last chocolate bar he'd claimed as his own before discarding them. To his credit, he swallows before speaking again. "You can't," is added, but not because she isn't with Missing Persons, "It's too late. Assuming, of course, you are the Detective Maggie Powers on scene the twenty-fifth for the Tabla killings."

"…I am that Detective Maggie Powers on scene the twenty-fifth for the Tabla case," the woman confirms, thrown for a loop but regaining her mental balance swiftly. "And for the record— " Maggie finds herself eyeing the paused 101 Dalmatians. "We don't want the first impression of a suspected criminal to be 'hi, welcome to the NYPD, we like puppies.'" She's tall, but not as tall as Laurie, and she looks up at him, hands waving to and fro in her pockets as she gets back to the point. "How are you involved in the Tabla case?"

The impression starts to be that Laurie is watching her, and not just because he keeps his gaze on her, because he doesn't. That gaze roams - around the room, not her. "Is liking puppies a really terrible thing to admit?" He is, clearly, not quite ever on the point. But he obliges her question nevertheless. "I was asked in on it," he says, "So I suppose I'm not quite involved, not quite not involved." His finger juts up suddenly to make a point. Then, he ducks right down all that height to his shoe where he left the badge. Straightening, he pins it back on his tan coat where it probably more belongs. "It says Visitor," he informs her, tapping the badge accusingly, "But that's wrong. Somebody stepped out to do something and they left me here…"

"… Called in," Maggie repeats. Skeptical isn't quite the tone in her voice; no, a polite reign is kept on it … or perhaps that's just how she speaks. Unsure is more the tune. She only barely glances at the Visitor badge and even that is cursory. She saw it! "I'm … sorry … Laurie, what exactly is it that you um…" she fishes for a word and simply winds up squinting inquisitive blue eyes on the man. "Do?"

A little flitter of a smile chases Laurie's lips, maybe at what she says, or the way she still says it. Polite. "No, I'm sorry," he admits, bobbing his head, "I was leading you on and that's mean. My name is Laurence Miles, you still shouldn't use that, and I'm here as a behavior consultant." He passes it quickly, but the name still says 'you may have read me in a case-study somewhere'. But maybe if he's lucky, she hasn't had the time in the middle of all this killing. One hand now in his pocket, he turns halfway behind him to gesture with the candy bar towards the TV. "And that is, besides a lovely piece of cinema, an intro into the woman as controlling deviant. In Cruella's case, she's missing the man, the aggressor, the active party. The Brady to her Hindley."

"Laurence Miles," Maggie says with a smile twisting her own lips upward. Maybe she's heard of him, maybe she hasn't. Alright, so maybe, in reality, she's keeping her tone of voice purposefully mysterious to keep him guessing. Maggie raises a defined, blonde eyebrow at the TV. "Okay." The precisely cocked brow is turned on Laurie himself. "A lot of interest is coming in on this Mendoza case. I'm not surprised someone else's been brought in … but a behaviour consultant, huh. Well. I know just who you need to take a look at."

"Interest is one word for it," Laurie mutters, briefly glancing down at his hands, but returning back up to her with a cheery bright smile. "Anyway, I was in the area and I love a good city gyro, so, there we have it." He tips his head when she mentions a specific subject. "Yes. I heard there might be a Cruella in this instance." A hand raises and he pinches a tiny bit of air between fingers, "Little bit." The hand drops. "But if it's nothing, she's nothing, and I take my food and I go." Except he's apparently not taking those Snickers but is instead leaving them as offering for the next witness.

The detective smirks a little bit — maybe it was the re-emergence of Cruella. She instinctively glances to the Snickers bars for a second. The pair of vending machine addicts out there must be pissed. "Maybe," she says lightly. Her expression turns less light, however, and more thoughtful, those defined brows pinching in instead of giving the apparent behavioural consultant weird looks. "It's kind of a strange case. It should be open and shut, but something doesn't sit right," Maggie purses her lips, fighting a frown. "I'm sure you know that, though, since you're here. Have you seen the tapes yet?"

This same aforementioned pair may or may not still be watching this whole thing take place from behind that glass as well. Laurie, for his part, crumples up his Snickers wrapper and deposits it in his pocket so that now both hands are in one. "Trust the instinct to the end, though you can render no reason," he delivers, after which he goes on to recite a portion of the police report from that evening verbatim. It's a short section about a certain blonde woman winking and slipping her cuffs. "Now, that," he concludes, "I would like to see."

Maggie's brows raise — she looks impressed for a second there. "Then see you shall." She flashes a quick smile, the kindest yet, fuelled by some good old fashioned curiosity stirred up by the strange case and the "interest" it's stirring. It's not unlike wanting to show off a new toy to the other neighbourhood kid— but of course we're talking about murder, here, and it's not at all childlike. Welcome to the NYPD, we like puppies. Maggie clears her throat quietly. "It's not as interesting as it sounds, I'm afraid." She whisks to the door, opening it to step out. "I'll see if we can't find them… Tinley!"

There's some sudden but surely not sheepish bustling about and shuffling of shoes when it turns out that the so summoned Tinley is standing… right there. He's only moved from the spot she left him in to get closer to the wall, all the better to stare. His inability to tell that the conversation was leading to the door being opened foretells why he still hasn't got that detective badge, himself. Parker, on the other hand, is innocently by the nearest desk, shifting through — something. He casts an odd, calculating look over his shoulder at Laurie, who slides out beside Maggie like they've become BFFs thanks to this experience. His words of response? "Come now, Powers, there's no need to spoil it entirely for me. Somebody already gave away the ending."

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