2007-02-26: Who Sends A Man Flowers?

Starring:

Lachlan_icon.gif Mara_icon.gif Mr-Hendrickson_icon.gif

Summary: Lachlan calls Mara about some suspicious activity and Mara discovers another clue in the Squaring the Circle case. Mister Hendrickson arrives to do some more threatening. Shots are exchanged.

Date It Happened: February 26th, 2007

Who Sends a Man Flowers?


Lachlan's Apartment

The apartment of Lachlan Deatley is what one would expect from a bachelor slob who lives with two large dogs. It's small and cluttered, but at least there are no particularly funny smells. Clothes, a few empty bottles, some takeout boxes, and dog chew toys are scattered liberally around the place, giving it a /very/ lived-in feel.

However, Lachlan at least tried to clean up a bit today, so the rampaging horde of Things has been tamed somewhat. Still wearing the bandages on his face and head and hand, he looks less than at his best this early afternoon. Dressed in a white ribbed tanktop and a pair of ratty blue jeans, he has apparently not quite made the transition from "Vicodin-induced slumber" to "awake and about". A call was placed to one Detective Damaris earlier asking her to meet him here — something about a woman on the Brooklyn Bridge and strange knives and necklaces. It probably didn't sound awfully coherent coming from a man who's still trying to figure out where he left the orange juice. The two Dobermans that live with him are resting peacefully near the sofa, having already had their breakfast.

There's a knock at the door followed by a feminine voice peppered with a strange almost-British accent. "Mister Deatley? It's Detective Damaris." The chestnut haired cop waits at the door. She must be off duty, as she wears no form of identification today.

The dogs near the couch lift their heads simultaneously at the knock, but they are silent. It takes Lachlan a moment of consideration before he moves out of the small kitchen nook and toward the front door. After a quick peek through the peephole, he unhooks the chain, unlocks the deadbolt, and draws the door open for Mara, squinting at her groggily. If one didn't know better, one might think he'd forgotten he even called her. "C'm in," he mutters. Once she's across the threshold, he'll close and lock the door behind her again. Where /did/ he leave the orange juice?

"Jesus Christ. What in the hell happened to you?" Mara stares at Lachlan with wide eyes, following him into the apartment.

"Fell down the stairs." It's not hard to tell if Lachlan's being sarcastic or not: the bitter growl to his voice would make it more than abundantly clear. "Doesna matter. Figured ye'd be the one ta call, seein' as yer law an' all." He steps away from the door and heads toward an end table flanked by the couch and a broken easy chair. Resting on the table is the blue wrapping paper with "Happy Birthday!!" written all over it in festive text, and resting on the paper is the wickedly sharp knife that originally came wrapped up in it. He picks this up and turns around to face Mara again, holding the blade up for her to see. "Anythin' ye'd know 'bout?"

"The knife was wrapped in that? You said there was a necklace as well? May I see it?" Mara stops short and seems to rethink what she's just said. "That is, can you show it to me?" She steps closer, examining the knife, but not making any move to touch it.

Of course she'd want the necklace. Of /course/ she would. /Everyone/ wants the necklace, it seems. Lachlan shakes his head, setting the knife on the table again and crossing his arms over his chest. "Dunna have the necklace anymore," he states truthfully. "Let someone borrow it last nigh'. 'M s'posed ta take 'er the knife t'day, but figured ye should see it first." He /probably/ should've considered that last night when he gave the necklace to Cass, but then he didn't actually think to call Mara until he popped his painkillers and went to bed last night.

Mara's eyes widen. "Who has that necklace? That necklace is /very/ important, Mister Deatley. It could be the tie in a series of serial murders." She pinches the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, thinking for a second. "Can you draw me a picture of what it looked like?"

Mr. Hendrickson makes his way up the stairs slowly, and deliberately. He is not wearing his expensive suit today, but rather, is dressed in black combat boots, and a dark olive-green-colored trenchcoat, buttoned up, with the belt wrapped securely around his waist. He appears to be wearing grey t-shirt underneath, along with a jack of some kind. He is, however, still wearing his black leather gloves, for obvious reasons. He stops on the 4th floor (assuming Lachlan lives on the fourth floor!), and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a piece of paper which has Lachlan's Appartment number written on it.

Wait, whoa, /what/? /Murders/? Now it's Lachlan's turn to widen his eyes. /That/ makes things a lot more interesting. It takes him a moment to contemplate this and formulate a response: "Uh. Yeah. 'er name was — " he trails off as he starts digging around on the chair, couch, and table for a pen and paper. They're a lot harder to find than one might think! " — uh. Cass." Sounds like lass! "Cass … Aldren. Alders? Fuck." Still half-awake and distracted by his search, he can't quite seem to remember Cass' name. "Owns a bookstore."

"I'll do some digging. She a friend of yours? Did she say what she wanted the necklace for?" Mara taps her foot not impatiently, but anxiously. "Any information you can offer me would be a great help." A small notebook is fished out of the back pocket of her pants, and 'Cass Aldren? Alders?' is written in purple ink.

Mr. Hendrickson walks slowly down the hall, and eventually stops infront of Lachlan's door. He adjusts his coat a moment, and then reaches into his coat and unholsters his revolver, checking to ensure it is fully loaded before sliding it loosely back into its holster. He adjusts his gloves, ensuring they are snug, and then knocks on the door lightly. How odd. Oddly polite.

"Said it'd … help a friend 'r summat. Hospital gave me pills; 'm a bit kna— " There's a knock at the door. Lachlan stops his nearly fruitless search (he found a pen!) and turns his gaze toward the door, eyes narrowing in confusion. His eyes soon snap to Mara. "Ye dinna bring anyone, di'ye?" Because he's /reasonably/ sure he didn't call anyone else. He's not expecting anyone. He's also sure he didn't tell Cass where he lived.

Mara shakes her head slowly, but doesn't seem very alarmed. "No, my partner doesn't know I'm here." She raises a hand for quiet and motions for Lachlan to step out of sight. "Who is i'?" Cautiously, she steps toward the door.

Mr. Hendrickson clears his throat before speaking, and attempts to alter his voice slightly. It may or may not be enough to fool Lach, and he's doubtful whoever it was who just spoke has heard his voice before. Regardless, he would prefer to gain entry without destroying the door. "Florists Transworld Delivery."

Flowers? That's kinda weird, but Lachlan's not exactly rational and awake, so he figures it's acceptable. It's not /entirely/ implausible. He does take a few steps to the side, partially obscuring himself from the door by putting the cluttered entertainment center between it and himself. However, he's still visible and can still see the door. Now he just has to figure out who the hell would send him flowers. Hmm. The dogs are on their feet by now, eying the door with ears curiously perked.

"Who the hell sends a man flowers?" Mara growls under her breath and then, more audibly, chimes, "Jus' a minnit!" She gives Lachlan a serious look and presses a finger to her lips. Keep your damn mouth shut. She takes a look through the peephole and then turns her head back to look at Lachlan. She shakes her head. That ain't no florist. "'O are they for? Nobody ever sends me flowers! You sure you've go' the righ' address?"

Mr. Hendrickson sighs, and cracks his knuckles before taking a step back. Apparently, playing nice isn't going to get them to open the door, so it's time to play hardball. He braces himself before delivering a mighty kick to the spot just next to the doorhandle. He isn't expecting to get it in one shot, but you never know, he might get lucky.

They just don't make doors like they used to these days. Hendrickson's foot shatters the jamb and sends the door (and a few splinters) wildly swinging inward. The dogs begin barking loudly, warningly, and Lachlan startles. "/Fuck!/" is the only thing he can bring himself to say, but he says it quite beautifully. His eyes go to the knife on the table, but there's no way he'd be able to reach it before whoever it is at the door got to him.

Mara never knew what hit her. With her face nearly pressed against the door, she is really nailed when the whole thing gets kicked in. She goes stumbling back, holding her now-bloodied nose. "Son of a bitch!" For the moment, she's dazed.

Mr. Hendrickson scowls when he does not immediately see Lach. He notes the dogs, however, and is immediately on guard, ready for if they decide they want to attack him. He snarls at them, displaying stainless-steel teeth in their direction. Hey, ya never know. Maybe it'll shut them up. He looks around for Lach, before turning to regard Mara. The huge man pauses to adjust his coat as he surveys the room, frowning. "Where is Lach?" he asks Mara, clearly unhappy. Lach is making this difficult for himself!

That's not how Lachlan sees it. Right now, he's examining the window behind him, pondering the possibilities of making a break for it down the fire escape. However, that would leave the dogs behind, and the Scotsman cares too much for his dogs to leave them in the hands of Mister Metalface. Damn it. But there is hope! Hendrickson is addressing Mara and hasn't seen Lachlan yet. After only a moment's hesitation, he makes a dash for the knife still on the table. The dogs, for their part, continue to bark. Loudly. And angrily. Bad man invading territory Do Not Want.

Mara almost looks terrified as she wipes the blood away from her nose to very little avail. "You've just assaulted a detective of the NYPD!" She stands her ground as she announces her status, but she doesn't go for her gun. Sure, she could attempt to draw and shoot him, but he might grab her before she could. Or she might kill him. And then there'd be paperwork involved. But then Lachlan decides to do the stupid thing and so Mara plunges one hand into her pocket (or rather, through and past her pocket, where her leg holster's hidden) to draw her gun.

Mr. Hendrickson frowns, and notices Lach make a sudden dash for the knife of the table. He reaches out, and makes a grab for the man, not suspecting Mara has a gun in her pocket, but assuming she's got some kind of mace or something. Regardless, Mr. Hendrickson manages to grab some bit of clothing as Lach moves, and yanks hard. Unfortunately, the clothing is ripped clean off! It remains to be seen if this has stopped Lach from reaching the knife.

When he feels the pull of something snagging his tanktop, Lachlan spins in an attempt to rip himself out of Hendrickson's grasp — and winds up ripping his tanktop right off instead! The shock of the sudden disrobing turns his spin into a clumsy stumble that sends him sprawling on the couch. This is not a good place to be, and so he scrambles quickly to rise to his feet and simultaneously get the couch between himself and the thug. The result is less than graceful and hardly effective, as he only manages to really get himself halfway onto his feet. A nice steady stream of foul words flows from between his lips, but the dogs are doing a wonderful job of drowning them out.

Mara yanks her gun out of her pocket and levels it with the bulk of Hendrickson's form. "FREEZE!" A very stereotypical command, but it /does/ adequately describe what she wants him to do. "I will /not/ hesitate to shoot you if you take one more /step/!"

Mr. Hendrickson freezes in place, having moved over to the couch, reaching down toward Lach as she pulls the gun. He glances over at her out of the corner of his eye. He grits his teeth, making a metal-on-metal sound. He straightens out slowly, before turning his head to face her. "This does not concern you."

No, Lachlan is very glad that Mara has concerned herself with this entire affair. /Very/ glad. He doesn't move from his half-sprawled position on the couch, staring in wide-eyed terror between the policewoman and the thug, fighting hard to get his breathing back in order. Slight emphysema makes life hell sometimes. The dogs continue to bark like troopers, making conversation rather difficult in this room.

"You almost broke my nose, asshole! I think you /made/ this concern me!" Mara's aim does not waver, even as the blood drips from her nose, over her lips and down her chin.

Mr. Hendrickson glances down at Lachlan, and frowns, before turning to watch the cop closely. Broken nose, eh? "I did not put your face in front of the door." He pauses a moment, before continuing. "Now that you have drawn your gun, what will you do?"

BARKBARKBARK. BARK. BARKBARK. More noise added to the conversation, though the dogs are starting to taper off a bit now that things are calming down. Lachlan slowwwwwly begins to scoot himself backwards along the couch, crab-walking his way /away/ from Hendrickson. Good boy. Just keep talking to the cop. Yes.

"No, but you /did/ kick the door down." Mara snarls and resists the urge to sniff back the blood. "And I'm going to give you five seconds to turn around and go back the way you came." She should arrest him. She knows she should. But if she takes the time to arrest this creep, Lachlan might get scared and she might lose the latest lead in her case.

Mr. Hendrickson move suddenly, diving onto Lachlan, and beginning to tussel with the poor guy. He mostly attempts to grab Lachlan, and perhaps use him as a human shield. Unfortunately, the poor guy is a lot better fighter than Mr. Hendrickson figured he was. He's just hoping that Mara will hesitate before shooting, for fear of hitting Lach.

When one doesn't want to be dismembered and disfigured horribly, one can find it in oneself to fight back admirably. Lachlan keeps himself /rooted/ to the couch as best he can while simultaneously struggling ferociously to keep Hendrickson from picking him up — or worse. "Get the /bloody fuck/ /offa me/!" he manages to bellow. The dogs resume their barking at their previous level, dancing around nervously. They /want/ to intervene, but something is holding them back.

Mara takes aim and fires a warning shot at the larger of the two men grappling on the couch. Five… If she wings him, that's his problem, isn't it? "Get off of him!" Four…

Mr. Hendrickson winces as the bullet grazes him, going through his coat and across his side, making a nice line of red. Thankfully, it's nothing he can't handle. Unfortunately, he still has to take care of the woman with the gun. He freezes mid-strike, lifting a fist to punch Lach in the head. He disentangles himself from Lach, hands up in a sort of non-threatening manner, and backing away slowly. "10,000$, Lach."

Loud noises! The dogs have competition! They do go quiet when the pistol goes off, and Lachlan flinches. He flinches again when it looks like Hendrickson is going to hit him; his hands come up go shield his face, but the blow never lands. When the thug starts to back off, he lowers his arms again and shoots Hendrickson a glower. "Piss off," he growls, but it sounds almost half-hearted. He's too damn tired to put much more effort into it.

"He pays you /nothing/ and you stay the hell out of his life, or I /will/ arrest you next time." Mara's starting to look a little woozy, but her aim stays trained on the thug. Three…

Mr. Hendrickson continues to back away, until he is standing in the door way. He backs through the doorway slowly, watching Mara intently. "Carmichael wants his money, Lach. This is just a brief respite." And with that, he steps out of sight, beyond the door. Unfortunately, he uses this time to draw his LeMat revolver, thumbing the safety. He then watches the door, gun at the ready.

As soon as Hendrickson makes his exit, Lachlan squeezes his eyes shut and lets his head drop back onto the couch, heaving a heavy sigh of mixed relief and pain. God, his head is /throbbing/. All the running around and tussling really didn't do good things for him. He remains laying on the couch for a moment, gasping to catch his breath and steady his pulsing heart rate. The Dobermans are quiet once again, but now that the door is wide open, they can't resist padding over to investigate. They're too well-trained to actually leave the apartment without permission, but they're still curious. One of them steps halfway over the threshold and peers out into the hallway beyond — the opposite direction of Hendrickson.

Mara rushes forward quickly to collect the dog, intending to coax him back inside and shut what's left of the door. Her gun is still out, but pointed at the ground.

Mr. Hendrickson simply raises his revolver, flicks a small lever hammer, and thumbs it back with a loud click, alerting poor Mara to the fact that a gun is now pointed at her! Turnabout is fair play. "Don't move. Drop your gun, and kick it over here. This is nothing personal, but you started it."

The click of the gun causes both dogs to turn their heads and stare at Hendrickson, ears perked, faces alert. Oh. Bad Man is still here! It's the voice that causes Lachlan to open his eyes and stare in horror at the ceiling. Damn it. The information he gets from the dogs' minds alone is not enough, and so the Scotsman closes his eyes and concentrates. It's not long before he's seeing not the insides of his eyelids, but the hallway outside his apartment, and the gun-wielding Hendrickson in it. Dogs' eyes are different from humans, but Lachlan's long since learned how to deal with such things. What he sees is nothing good. If Mara puts down her weapon or is shot, Lachlan will be in a /lot/ more pain. One of the Dobermans' ears slick back, his lips peel back from his teeth, and the fur along his spine starts to bristle. A horrific snarl tumbles from his throat, and in a flash, he's leaping for Hendrickson, aiming to bite at whatever he can sink his teeth into.

Mara stops absolutely stark still as soon as she hears that hammer go back. She's about ready to drop her gun, when the dog at her side provides a rather stunning diversion. Why couldn't he have done that earlier when the bastard was unarmed? She staggers back out of the way and brings her gun back up with the intention of firing another shot at Hendrickson if he doesn't drop his weapon, and the dog doesn't get in the way.

Mr. Hendrickson adjusts his aim the instant the dog begins to snarl and growl. Usually, snarling is not a good sign, and considering the dog hadn't done that in the apartment, he was willing to bet it was about to attack. Or something. He wasn't going to take his chances, and it was becoming more apparent this was a blown opportunity, ruined by the presence of that cop girl. Mr. Hendrickson braced himself and squeezed the trigger, and there was the massively loud /BOOM!/ of a shotgun blast as it ripped down the hallway, possibly throwing the Doberman back, possibly not. Mara could have also been winged by some buckshot, which was, thankfully, the least lethal kind of gunshot to be winged by! Either way, he wasn't going to try to stick around. Choosing the better part of valor, Mr. Hendrickson would begin fleeing once that blast goes off.

The blast does knock the Doberman back, as well as taking off a good chunk of his face and head. He doesn't even have time to yelp or register the pain. It's fast. However, what the dead dog lacks in sound is more than made up for by the scream that erupts from Lachlan back in the apartment. He's never used that power on a dog and had the dog die before. This is a new and ultimately horrifying, painful experience, moreso since the animal is one he knew personally. The Scotsman clutches at his head and rolls onto his side — but as there is no room left for him to roll anywhere on the couch, he winds up on the floor, where he curls up into a compact ball.

Mara unfortunately is able to register pain as she takes a enough buckshot to her torso to knock her down. She howls with pain and scrambles to pull herself into the apartment before he can decide to fire another shot. She shouts a stream of obscenities as she leaves a trail of blood on the floor. The injuries won't be life threatening if they're tended to, but they certainly aren't any fun.

More barking from the last remaining Doberman, who has skittered back into the apartment to avoid getting any stray buckshot. It's fortunate that, by now, one of the neighbors has likely called the police and who knows what else. Gunshots, dogs barking, shouting — even the surliest of New Yorkers would have called this in. Fortunate indeed, for it looks as though Lachlan is completely down for the count and is unable to get to his phone or to Mara to assess the damage. He remains in the fetal position, crying softly.

Mr. Hendrickson makes his way downstairs, assuming that /someone/ would have called the police by now. He would rather not stick around. And judging from the scream in the apartment, Lachlan has either stabbed himself, or his dogs mean quite a lot to him. /Quite/ a lot. Perhaps they, or rather, it can be used to extort the money from him. But for now, Mr. Hendrickson makes a quiet escape.

Mara knows the authorities are going to be on their way, and that this place is going to be one hell of a crime scene. So she pulls herself to the knife and finally grasps it.

When they arrive, Detective Damaris' fingers are still wrapped around the handle. She's unconscious not from the blood loss, but from the vision of the woman who found the "birthday present" and the phone call she received.

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