xp_logs | (no subject)

It was baking out in the parking lot, and Remy groused as he left the air conditioning of the car. Unfortunately, he'd cultivated the image of the long coat wearing bastard for far too long to be able to shed it for a t-shirt and shorts. Besides, today was official, as he adjusted his tie. The hospital was old, likely a little out of date, which made him happy. Meant that the staff wouldn't be as diligent in their security as they would in their autopsy.

Remy walked through the doors, and waved his 'borrowed' shield and ID at the cop at the desk. He'd mentioned that Agent Bartlet would be dropping by, and even if by chance they went deeper to find out that Remy was not Madelyn, he'd already be long gone with the information. Remy made a mental note to buy Jake and Betsy dinner. How they'd finessed the intel out this quickly was beyond him.

"Agent Bartlet?"

"Dat's right. You Mitcham?"

"Doctor Elias Mitcham." The man adjusted his glasses slightly as he took Remy in. He looked scruffier than your normal FBI agent, but it took all types. His attitude was certainly professional enough, as they went through the dreary halls towards the morgue. "I'm amazed how fast you responded."

"I'm not de official team, Doctor. One of de victims is involved in a case of mine. De Bureau be sending down others to investigate de incident itself. I'm just trying to figure out what de hell Patches was doing dere?"

"Patches?"

"Clarence Donnally."

"Oh, the fourth victim." Mitcham pushed through the doors and into the frigid room. Dispite the tempteture, the air still stunk thickly of burnt flesh, and the four tables were ugly with white shrouded twisted forms. Mitcham passed over a clipboard, giving Remy a chance to scan the information before he flipped over the first sheet. "As you can see, there was little evidence aside from dental records with which to identify the bodies. All identification was either removed prior to the fire, or wholly destroyed during it. None of the subjects were found with any jewellery, which I feel indicates that someone methodically removed it prior to the fire."

Remy took a long look at the figure on the table. The fire had tightened the tendons, drawing it up into an almost fetal position, no doubt helped by the seated position originally. The victim had been a large man, and the fire had gone especially deep where the fat could fuel it. The doctor gently touched the side of the head, behind the ear, with a stylus.

"As you can see, the victim was dead prior to the fire. He was killed by a single shot behind the ear. Based on the angle, it looks like he was unaware of the existance of his attacker prior to being fired on." The doctor motioned to the smashed slug in the evidence baggie in the tray. "It's a 9mm round. Ballastics hasn't tested it yet, but an empty Browning pistol was found in the car, chambered in 9mm. The officer on site believes it will match up with the other bullets we pulled out of these three."

The doctor flipped the sheet back over the body. "One of the others was shot in the temple, likely as he was turning to meet the threat, and the third through his right eye. Each victim also suffered three bullets to the chest, in the cardiac region, but this was obviously done after death. Likely the shooter simply emptying the remainder of the clip."

"What about Pa-- Donnally?"

"Oh, this one is a fucking gem alright." Mitcham flipped back another sheet, and Patches' nearly unrecognizable form was in view, flesh black and cracking. His one arm, missing the hand Wisdom had removed last year as an object lession was curled against his chest, like a supplicant. "If you look close, you can see the ligature marks that still remain on the ankles and ingeneously, across the victim's elbows."

"Why de elbows?" Remy said absently, and suddenly realized.

"The victim was missing a hand, so the shooter tied his arms behind his back by the elbows, high enough up that he couldn't straighten them to slip out. As I said, we're dealing with someone methodical here; a real professional. Donnally was then stuffed in the truck of the car, and it was set ablaze. The shooter actually cored out the rear so he'd have airflow during it all, making sure he didn't die quietly of smoke inhalation." Doctor Mitcham shook his head. "Can't imagine anyone being able to do that."

"Dey get anything else out of de car?"

"In terms of forensic evidence? No. It was a rented vehicle, picked up by victim two," He pointed idly. "and driven by them. Site is pretty clean too. There's some guys on the Organized Crime task force coming over. They specialize in these goomba like executions, but I doubt who ever did this is going to make an amatuer mistake like leaving a cigarette butt or a shoe print behind."

"I can agree wit you dere, Doctor." Remy sighed. There was something about the names on the list that niggled his memory; he'd seen them before. Well, Jake could run them down when he got back to the mansion. "My office will be calling later. If you turn up anything else, send it care of Fred Duncan to the Bureau. He'll make sure it get to Bartlet."

"You."

"Of course. Dat's what I meant." Remy nodded and left, tucking the sheet from the clipboard into his jacket. This entire thing stunk, right up there with the mysterious 'Paul' crap. Something was going on, and between the science of the killings and the 'punishing' of Patches, he had a feeling that Wisdom was involved in this somehow.

Part of LITTLE GIRL LOST. Any errors or omissions are mine, and please notify Alasdair or Rossi in that case.