This Devil's Workday - Day One
Dec. 16th, 2009 10:28 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsIn the afternoon, Cammie skips out on work and Adrienne goes to find her to find out why.
Slamming the phone down angrily, Adrienne briefly considered throwing the device across the room but reined in the impulse. No sense taking her frustration out on the electronics. And really, she shouldn't have slammed the receiver down to cut off Amara. It wasn't her assistant's fault that the manager of 64Square had just called to ask Amara to relay to Adrienne the message that Cammie had left the shop in the middle of her shift. After all, Adrienne had asked the manager to get in touch if ever Cammie or Nico did anything out of the ordinary. It wasn't Amara's fault. Cammie was the one she should be taking her frustration out on
But first she had to find the green-haired hellion.
In between classes, Adrienne read the door to the mansion with her powers and saw Cammie coming in to the mansion and leaving again with a duffel bag. After searching out Bobby to get him to cover her next class, she signed out one of the mansion's cars (Driver wasn't at the mansion today as she had planned to be teaching all day) and headed towards the Salem Center bus stop.
She spotted Cammie's green hair as she neared the town, moving quickly along the shoulder of the road with her thumb out. Slipping the car onto the shoulder of the road, Adrienne drove up behind the young woman and pounded on the horn.
Cammie jumped slightly, her emotions were a jumble at first she thought she had finally snagged a ride before she caught a glance of who was driving. “Damnit,” she muttered, but she did stop. It wasn’t really worth trying to outrun the car. Cammie hoped her eyes didn’t give away that had been crying. For no reason, she hoped. She just had to get out there.
When the car came to a full stop, Cammie opened the passenger side door, “What?!”
"'What?!'" Adrienne quoted, livid. "Don't 'what' me, Miss Black! You'd better know damn well 'what' or I'm going to beat you with that bag you're using to run away." She stopped the car. "What are you running away from?" she demanded, figuring she had a right to know since Cammie was fleeing town in the middle of a shift at Adrienne's shop.
“I can what whoever the fuck I want. I’m not running away. Look, I’ll be back in a couple of days, something… something kind of came up,” she said, choking on her words. So much for not freaking out.
Adrienne's 'well you won't be coming back to a job' died in her throat when Cammie's voice faltered, and the older woman's face softened. "Fuck. Sit down, it's fucking freezing," she muttered, gesturing for Cammie to get in the car. "What 'kind of came up'?"
Cammie looked around before getting in the car and shutting the door behind her, “I have to go to Chicago,” she said, shaking her head, “I got a call at work. A friend… of mine…” she trailed off.
"What, broke up with a boyfriend? Parents got divorced?" So frustrated that Cammie had left work, worried on how her conduct would reflect back on the woman who had hired her, Adrienne failed to notice the pallor of Cammie's face, the red swollen eyes. "You don't 'have' to go visit a friend right this minute, Miss Black."
“No, I have to go identify her body!” Cammie snapped, “That’s the call I got at work!”
Adrienne paused with her mouth open, and didn't close it for several seconds. "Your friend's dead?" she asked finally, tone and demeanor completely foreign to what they'd been only a minute earlier.
“I don’t know! Fuck, I hope not,” Cammie managed, “So bus station. Chicago. Shit. What if it really is her?”
"Then the police tell her family and you come back to New York." Of course, if Cammie was being called in, the girl probably didn't have any family, but Adrienne let that one go. "Can you go to Chicago or are you going to be arrested for outstanding charges if you waltz into a police station?"
“Amy doesn’t have family,” Cammie said, “None of us did. And no, you sent me to pay those off, remember? I’ve been doing the damn service and everything.”
"Well I wasn't sure if you'd skipped out on it again," Adrienne replied, though she tried to keep the accusatory tone in check. She put the car into gear and circled back towards the mansion.
“No, I really went to do it,” Cammie said, “I visited a couple of friends, but spent most of that week in a fucking court house.”
"Boo hoo," Adrienne answered with a roll of her eyes. She hit the automatic door locks on the car so Cammie couldn't get out.
“So, I’m getting a ride to the bus station? Or is this now a hostage situation?” Cammie said.
Adrienne glanced at Cammie with a raised eyebrow before turning back to the road. "Overlooking the fact that we're now travelling away from the bus station, do you really think I'm going to drive you to the bus station so you can go to Chicago alone to identify a body that might be your friend's?"
“Well, damnit, I’m not going to waste time sitting around,” Cammie snapped, “I want to get there. Tell them it’s not her and they can fuck themselves for making me think it was.”
"Oh yeah, that attitude's going to go over wonderfully with the police force, especially considering you already have a record with them," Adrienne said in a tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'd better go with you so you don't end up getting arrested. And you'll get there faster if you fly, so you can book two flights for us when we get back to the mansion, while I pack an overnight bag."
“Fly…wait, what?” Cammie looked over at Adrienne riving, “You’re… coming with me?”
"If I don't, you're probably going to mouth off to the cops... after you throw a few punches, that is," Adrienne mused darkly, "and get arrested, and I wouldn't be a proper Xavier's Mansion Do-Gooder if I didn't try to encourage you to act responsibly, now would I? So yes, I think I will go with you." Besides, Cammie was still a kid, really, and Adrienne didn't think she should have to go through something like identifying a body on her own.
“I wouldn’t punch anyone,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. Flying though… as much as she hated to admit would be a lot faster than taking the bus. A couple hours and the whole damn thing would be done.
Adrienne rolled her eyes again as she returned the car to the garage at the mansion. "No, of course you wouldn't. You have incredible impulse control. You would never do anything impulsive like punch someone or leave work in the middle of a shift."
“How about the fact that punching a cop in a room full of cops isn’t that great of a way to stay out of jail. And jail doesn’t appeal to me,” Cammie returned. Also, she had to know. She really had to know.
"Excuse me if I don't trust you to remember that in the heat of the moment," the older woman replied, unlocking the doors and climbing out of the car. "I'm coming with you. Quit bitching about it. You book the flights while I talk to Drake about taking my classes for the rest of the day."
“Fine,” Cammie said, “But we are so not flying coach. I have enough on my mind, I don’t need to be resisting the urge to strangle whoever they stick two inches in front of me.”
Adrienne turned her patented Look of Bemusement on Cammie, half 'we'll fly whatever the hell I want because without me you'd be taking the bus' and half 'you think I'd ever fly coach?' and settled for muttering, "take it up with Amara, she has my credit cards."
“I’ll do that then,” Cammie returned.
***
Before fllying to Chicago, Cammie phones Kurt to inform him of the trip and the reason behind it.
Because she knew Kurt’s teaching schedule and didn’t want to end up explaining things to an answering machine, Cammie waited until she knew his last class had finished before dialing. She hated it when people did that to her, she wasn’t going to turn around and do it to someone else.
Phone to her ear after hitting the speed dial button she waited for him to answer.
"Hello?" was the first thing she heard when it was picked up. "Kurt Sefton here."
“Hey,” Cammie said, “So, being nice to the kids?” She hardly sounded upbeat.
"I am always nice to the kids." He was focused entirely on the phone, hearing that note in her voice. "What is wrong?"
“I’m at the airport with Adrienne,” Cammie said, turning to look at the wall instead of all the people rushing everywhere, “Taking a quick trip out to Chicago. Thought I’d let you know, you know?”
"And I appreciate it. But that does not answer my question."
“Yeah, I know. I’m getting to that,” Cammie said, “I got a call from the police in Chicago, and it’s not about me. At least not directly, I guess. I Mean, I’m not really in trouble trouble.”
"But you are in some kind of trouble?" He glanced at the clock. "What time does your flight leave?"
“I’m not, a friend is, maybe. I’m not completely sure,” she really hoped they were totally wrong, “It’s starting to board now. I’m with the boss-lady, so I’ll be okay. I’ll call you when I get there once I know for sure what’s going on, okay?”
"Call me when you land", he requested. "And if you need me, if anything at all happens, I will be there in minutes."
“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Cammie said, “Thanks, Kurt. Really.” It wasn’t something she said often, but she did mean it.
"You are welcome. Just do not hesitate because you think you are a bother, or for any other reason."
“Oh, I totally am a bother, but I know it doesn’t but you,” Cammie said, “I got to go now. Call you when I get there.”
"We will speak in a few hours", he agreed. "Have a safe flight."
***
Cammie explains her relationship with her friend Amy while on the flight to Chicago.
Cammie was too distracted to really care that they had indeed landed first class tickets on the first flight out to Chicago. She had made a couple of phone calls but was now marveling at how she couldn’t pass the time kicking the seat in front of them and how the silverware was real. Rich people got spoiled rotten, it seemed.
“So.. uh, thanks, for the plane tickets and stuff.”
"You were close to this person we're going to see, obviously?" Adrienne inquired while skimming a magazine, ignoring Cammie's thanks.
“Yeah, we were friends,” Cammie said, looking out the window, “I mean, we are. I sort of looked after her a lot. She was a pretty attractive target to a lot of the gangs around. Because of what she does.”
"She's a mutant, you mean?" The older woman was careful to switch to the present tense instead of past, noting that Cammie had done so and not wanting to upset her.
Cammie nodded, “She goes by ‘Mule.’ And in her case it isn’t just a cute name,” Cammie said.
Adrienne frowned and gave Cammie a curious look over her newspaper. "She transports drugs?"
“When it comes down between that or getting your ass kicked and/or raped, what would you do?” Cammie shot back, “I kept trying to get her to leave Chicago. But it’s… her powers make her perfect for it. She can literally hide things in her body, not just drugs.”
Flinching at Cammie's question, Adrienne focused on her magazine for a moment before regaining her composure. "That's quite a useful power," she commented, ignoring the question altogether. "And the Chicago PD contacted you to ID this body because... you used to work with Mule?" She was a little shaky on how the police knew to connect Cammie with this girl. "Or did you live together, something like that?" She didn't particularly want to assume that Cammie had been involved in the drug trade.
“I… I really didn’t like a lot of the gangs, or the fact that the first time I met her she was getting her ass kicked, so I kicked their asses,” Cammie said simply, “When I was around she didn’t have to do that crap. I made enough money for two people to live on just ripping people off.”
"And you told her about the mansion?" the older woman asked. She told herself to stop asking questions, to stop familiarizing herself with the girl since she was probably dead, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. "You said you tried to get her to leave Chicago... to come to the mansion?"
“Yeah, or just to New York, where people wouldn’t know what she could do and I could help her out,” Cammie said, “It’s… kids get this glorified idea of running away, I know because I had it, kinda, when I did. But the streets really aren’t safe.”
"Another way Disney, the movies, and television are ruining our lives," Adrienne muttered, completely agreeing with Cammie. "They make it seem like so much fun, or like there are child-less philanthropists running around everywhere just dying to pick up strays to complete their happy families, that everyone gets a warm loving home in the end. It's such bullshit." And realizing that she'd been ranting out loud, she clamped her mouth shut.
"So the police connected her to you because you used to take care of her?"
“On the phone they said there was a letter,” Cammie admitted, “We were writing back and forth,” Cammie said with a shrug.
Adrienne nodded in understanding, pausing for several moments to flip a page in her book. "Are you going to be okay with doing this? Not that I care," she added quickly, "I just... want to know in case you get the urge to punch someone, so I'll know to stand back."
“It won’t be the first dead body I’ve seen,” Cammie said dryly.
***
The Chicago PD interviews Cammie after she identifies Amy's body and Cammie comes to understand the importance of her friend's case to the authorities, which she does not take well.
Cammie had seen dead bodies before. It was one of those things that was bound to happen when you spent enough time on the streets. A couple of them had even belonged to people she knew. But none of them had been friends of hers. This had been different. She was still freezing cold as an after effect of having been in the morgue. Cammie never took the cold well at all. The long-sleeved shirt, black with white skulls on it, wasn’t doing it for her and she pulled her leather coat on over that and was still shivering.
Maybe it was more than the cold though. She had only been able to stand and stare down at her friend for a second before turning around and taking off out the doors. Now was the fun part, and she didn’t mean that literally. She hated cops. But maybe they’d actually do something, as you could tell Amy had been beaten up horribly before she died. So it had lead to this. Sitting in a room with her boss and two cops trying to show no real emotion at all.
"How long will it take you to locate her next of kin now that Miss Black has made your positive identification?" Adrienne asked casually, trying to sound as if she was actually interested in police procedure.
Detective Jack Hurley sucked on his toothpick. "We'll track down who we can, make some calls. If nobody claims it by the end of the month, it'll go in the county cemetery."
"'It?'" Adrienne retorted coolly, eyebrow raised.
Before his partner could reply with some of his canned anti-mutant bigotry- which he was ever-so fond of- Detective Michael Smith interjected, "He meant the body, ma'am. That is to say, Miss Wilson. All Detective Hurley meant was that we didn't have a name up til now." He shot his partner a look, warning him to be more careful.
"Well, she's not a body any longer," Adrienne replied, trying to keep her tone level and wondering why she cared what the cops called the girl. "If her family hasn't been found within the alloted time, I would appreciate it if you contacted me," she added. "I will make the funeral arrangements."
“Who did it,” Cammie said flatly, her eyes smoldering, “Do you guys know who killed her?”
"Prolly some wanna-be gang-banger lookin' t' make a name," Hurley scratched the back of his neck. "You know about any gang connections?"
“A gang-banger wouldn’t have done that, she was worth too much to most of them,” Cammie said harshly, “Try harder.”
Detective Smith furrowed his brow slightly. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand, how exactly was she valuable to them?"
“Given she didn’t have a police record you could pull her prints from, I think it sort of speaks for itself,” Cammie said. Most drug mules had long lists of arrests. Because of how Amy did what she did, she had been impossible to catch.
"Miss Black, we're the good guys here. We're trying to solve your friend's murder and if you withhold information from us that could prove vital to the case..." Smith shrugged and turned to his partner. "We need to know everything."
It was easier said than done. Cammie still had a massive distrust for any sort of police but whatever, “She called herself Mule. You figure it out,” she snapped, “Here’s a hint, it’s kind of what she did.”
Hurley started to laugh, tinged with a smoker's hack. "And you think someone wouldn't have offed her for what was in her? How naive are you, kid?"
“Because they could’ve held a gun on her and gotten it with a lot less mess,” Cammie said, “It would take too much time to kill her and then cut her open and go looking for it.”
"Do you have anyone you might suspect could have done this?" Smith asked, ignoring her sardonic tone.
“No,” Cammie said simply, “I don’t,” at least no one she’d sic the cops on. She’d beat the crap out of them herself, if she ever caught them. Truthfully there were quite a few people sick enough to beat someone to death, whether they were worth a lot or not.
"Do you have any further questions for Miss Black, gentlemen, or may we be on our way?"
Hurley snorted in disgust. "I got nothin'. Smith, I'm waiting in the car." The older officer turned and left without another word.
Smith shook his head and reached into his coat as his partner headed to the car. Handing Cammie his card he smiled reassuringly, "Call us if you think of anything, ma'am." The detective started toward the door, stopping just before pushing it open and turning back toward the pair of mutants. Reaching into his coat again he walked back to Cammie, "Miss Black. This," he held out a letter to her, "is the letter that we found on your friend. Addressed to you, and since we didn't find any prints on it or anything...well, I expect you'll be wanting it."
Cammie took the letter, “Thanks,” she said. The address on the envelope was scrawled in Amy’s bad handwriting, it was obviously hers, “If I think of anything I’ll call you.”
Smith nodded and turned to head out the door, he really did want to help and hoped that the green haired girl would eventually be forthcoming about who she suspected of committing this murder. The only caveat, she needed to get him that information before the trail went cold.
***
Back at the hotel, Adrienne agrees to read Amy's letter with her powers and afterwards, she and Cammie strike up a deal relating to their next move.
Back at the hotel room, Cammie pulled off the gloves and threw the coat to the side after getting the letter from the pocket. She didn’t need to read it right now. She had read it on the way back from the station, and right now she thrust it at Adrienne. “Read it,” she said, “That way you read stuff. Read this.”
"Dearest Carmilla, I am having a wonderful time at summer camp. Today I kissed a boy for the first time when we stole a canoe and snuck over to the boys camp," Adrienne mumbled theatrically, tossing it onto the bed. "You already read it." She decided to play ignorant about Cammie's implication of reading it with her powers, hoping Cammie would give up without Adrienne trying to tell her no.
“Fuck you,” Cammie said, “You know what I mean. They’re not going to be able to do a damn thing,” she pointed out, “Please. Just to know what happened.”
Adrienne sat down on the bed, giving the letter a wide berth. The fact that Cammie had said 'please' was complicating things in her mind. The younger woman seemed genuinely upset and Adrienne knew it was a rare occasion when Cammie cared enough to get upset about anybody. But she didn't want the images of Cammie's friend being murdered stuck behind her eyes forever. "You already know what happened, Cammie," she said in an uncharacteristically quiet tone. "Having me tell you isn't going to make it any better than the cops telling you. And I can't tell the cops what I read; whatever I find out is inadmissible in court. It can't help her now." She couldn't actually tell Cammie no, however.
“I know it won’t change anything,” Cammie said softly, “I don’t care if it’s not inadmissible or anything like that. I just need to know who did it to her. What happened. That letter… is very, very paranoid. She was scared,” Cammie said, “I just want to know why. We all know the cops aren’t ever going to solve it.”
"If I find out and I tell you you're going to find them and kill them," Adrienne pointed out, "and I don't know if I can let you do that. Not because I care about them, but because you'd get caught eventually. And then I'd probably get into shit as an accomplice," she added quickly, not wanting Cammie to think she cared about what happened to Cammie.
“I’m not going to kill them, shit, I don’t want to end up in jail,” Cammie returned, “And that tends to be what happens when a mutant goes and kills someone. A regular person goes and kills a mutant and you can bury the case under paperwork for years and years. But the other way around? They’re on you in a day. I just… need to know she wasn’t going crazy.”
Adrienne raised an eyebrow at Cammie's speech about mutants killing humans and being caught in a day, but she didn't comment on it. She got to her feet and washed her hands in the bathroom sink before returning to the bed. "Fine. But you're paying for my therapy bills when I go crazy reading this," she muttered before picking up the letter.
The first thing that came into view was a girl sitting at a battered desk scrawling the words on to the paper. The colored ink was common among teenagers and another pen was sticking out of the flesh on the girl writing the letter, no blood or anything indicated it had been stabbed, it just stuck out of her skin at an angle. A bible also sat, the cover had a name on it, Brewster House.
The writing was stiff. But effective. There was an open bag of licorice nearby.
She looked afraid. A sound came from outside the door and the letter was stuffed in its envelope and shoved somewhere dark.
Heavy breathing and running followed, the feeling of being jostled.
Beating.
Punching. Screaming.
Playing dead.
Dragging somewhere, somewhere perhaps where she could be seen. Found.
Breathing stopped.
Adrienne dropped the letter and curled up on the bed, taking a moment to steady herself and trying not to touch anything as she did so. She hadn't physically felt the blows, but watching the girl with the letter inside her being brutally beaten wasn't exactly a picnic when it triggered her own memories. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck. I saw her being attacked but I couldn't see who did it," she spat, angry with herself and whoever had beaten the young woman to death. "My range got all fucked up from the letter being inside her. Usually I have a much wider range. I think... because it was inside her, all I could see was the girl. Amy." Huffing out a breath, Adrienne ordered herself to get it together. "I saw her write it. There was a Bible at the place she was at. Hotel maybe? It said 'Brewster House' on it." She sat up, poking around in her purse and covering her hands with Forge's coating. "She was definitely afraid, before she... ingested the letter. Before the beating." Closing her eyes, Adrienne furrowed her brow and tried to get a clearer picture of what had happened to Amy, but nothing else materialized. "I can't see the people who hurt her," she admitted finally, sounding defeated.
“Maybe…what Amy did sometimes you couldn’t find what was in her. It’s what made her so effective, you know?” Cammie said “Otherwise people would be able to find it. I don’t get it all the way, but it was what she did,” she said staring out the window, “Brewster house… I can go… I’ll check it out. We can find something. Someone there will know something and I’ll have someone’s head to mount on a fucking wall.”
"What happened to 'I'm not going to kill them, I don't want to end up in jail'?" Adrienne asked pointedly, narrowing an eyebrow.
“You can mount a head without killing someone,” Cammie said evilly, “It just takes talent. I’m good at that sort of crap. Anyway, it deserves a look, don’t you think?”
"From the cops, or the X-Men maybe," Adrienne countered. "You're not a detective. You shouldn't be looking into anything. You did what you came here to do, now we should go back to New York." Except she had a feeling that wasn't part of Cammie's plan, and legally Adrienne had no pull over the younger woman to make her come back to the mansion.
“Oh yeah, because the cops are so effective and everyone back home will really care about a girl who used to traffic drugs to stay alive,” she retorted.
Adrienne was back to her original argument for not wanting to read the letter in the first place. "Look, you said you wanted to know she wasn't going crazy... and she wasn't. You found out what you wanted. You said you knew it wouldn't change anything to find out what happened. Why pursue it?"
“Because no one else will,” Cammie returned.
Adrienne let out a strangled scream of frustration and fell back against the bed, annoyed by the fact that that argument worked on her. "Fine. I can't make you come back to New York anyway. But here's what we're going to do alright? Two days. We'll stay two days. You have until the end of business on Friday to find out about this house, talk to the connections you have here. Then we go back." She supposed she could have let Cammie have the weekend, but giving her until the end of the business week seemed like more than enough time. The weekend would be the last one before Christmas- the city would be in chaos, transportation would be a mess, and Adrienne had packing to do for Australia. "Okay?"
“Okay,” Cammie said, “I got people I can stay with. Some of who might actually be glad to see me again. Maybe. I can do it on my own, you might not fit in. Biker bars and stuff. I’ll be out of your hair for the business. There’s this guy I used to see, he’ll get the idea that the whole joking relationship thing is over when I hit him but won’t hold it against me enough to let me crash at his place.”
Sitting up, the older woman sent Cammie a deathglare. "If you want to stay in Chicago you're staying here. I'll conduct my own business- I've got a scout here who has her own operation but has been struggling since the market tanked and I'd like to arrange an offer to buy her out and set up an office here in town with her at the helm. So I can occupy myself with that while you play detective. But I'm responsible for you so you'll come back here when the sun goes down." She nearly added 'missy' on the end of her spiel, but bit back the urge. "Not that I wouldn't fit in at a biker bar if I had my leathers," she added snippily.
Cammie laughed, “The places I’ve been, chances are you stand out pretty amazingly,” she said, “It’s the way you carry yourself. Trust me.”
Adrienne pouted. "Fine. You do your business, I'll do mine. We leave on Friday night, no matter what you find. Do we have a deal?" This was all assuming Bobby would cover the remainder of the week's classes for her, too, of course.
“Fine, deal,” Cammie said.
Slamming the phone down angrily, Adrienne briefly considered throwing the device across the room but reined in the impulse. No sense taking her frustration out on the electronics. And really, she shouldn't have slammed the receiver down to cut off Amara. It wasn't her assistant's fault that the manager of 64Square had just called to ask Amara to relay to Adrienne the message that Cammie had left the shop in the middle of her shift. After all, Adrienne had asked the manager to get in touch if ever Cammie or Nico did anything out of the ordinary. It wasn't Amara's fault. Cammie was the one she should be taking her frustration out on
But first she had to find the green-haired hellion.
In between classes, Adrienne read the door to the mansion with her powers and saw Cammie coming in to the mansion and leaving again with a duffel bag. After searching out Bobby to get him to cover her next class, she signed out one of the mansion's cars (Driver wasn't at the mansion today as she had planned to be teaching all day) and headed towards the Salem Center bus stop.
She spotted Cammie's green hair as she neared the town, moving quickly along the shoulder of the road with her thumb out. Slipping the car onto the shoulder of the road, Adrienne drove up behind the young woman and pounded on the horn.
Cammie jumped slightly, her emotions were a jumble at first she thought she had finally snagged a ride before she caught a glance of who was driving. “Damnit,” she muttered, but she did stop. It wasn’t really worth trying to outrun the car. Cammie hoped her eyes didn’t give away that had been crying. For no reason, she hoped. She just had to get out there.
When the car came to a full stop, Cammie opened the passenger side door, “What?!”
"'What?!'" Adrienne quoted, livid. "Don't 'what' me, Miss Black! You'd better know damn well 'what' or I'm going to beat you with that bag you're using to run away." She stopped the car. "What are you running away from?" she demanded, figuring she had a right to know since Cammie was fleeing town in the middle of a shift at Adrienne's shop.
“I can what whoever the fuck I want. I’m not running away. Look, I’ll be back in a couple of days, something… something kind of came up,” she said, choking on her words. So much for not freaking out.
Adrienne's 'well you won't be coming back to a job' died in her throat when Cammie's voice faltered, and the older woman's face softened. "Fuck. Sit down, it's fucking freezing," she muttered, gesturing for Cammie to get in the car. "What 'kind of came up'?"
Cammie looked around before getting in the car and shutting the door behind her, “I have to go to Chicago,” she said, shaking her head, “I got a call at work. A friend… of mine…” she trailed off.
"What, broke up with a boyfriend? Parents got divorced?" So frustrated that Cammie had left work, worried on how her conduct would reflect back on the woman who had hired her, Adrienne failed to notice the pallor of Cammie's face, the red swollen eyes. "You don't 'have' to go visit a friend right this minute, Miss Black."
“No, I have to go identify her body!” Cammie snapped, “That’s the call I got at work!”
Adrienne paused with her mouth open, and didn't close it for several seconds. "Your friend's dead?" she asked finally, tone and demeanor completely foreign to what they'd been only a minute earlier.
“I don’t know! Fuck, I hope not,” Cammie managed, “So bus station. Chicago. Shit. What if it really is her?”
"Then the police tell her family and you come back to New York." Of course, if Cammie was being called in, the girl probably didn't have any family, but Adrienne let that one go. "Can you go to Chicago or are you going to be arrested for outstanding charges if you waltz into a police station?"
“Amy doesn’t have family,” Cammie said, “None of us did. And no, you sent me to pay those off, remember? I’ve been doing the damn service and everything.”
"Well I wasn't sure if you'd skipped out on it again," Adrienne replied, though she tried to keep the accusatory tone in check. She put the car into gear and circled back towards the mansion.
“No, I really went to do it,” Cammie said, “I visited a couple of friends, but spent most of that week in a fucking court house.”
"Boo hoo," Adrienne answered with a roll of her eyes. She hit the automatic door locks on the car so Cammie couldn't get out.
“So, I’m getting a ride to the bus station? Or is this now a hostage situation?” Cammie said.
Adrienne glanced at Cammie with a raised eyebrow before turning back to the road. "Overlooking the fact that we're now travelling away from the bus station, do you really think I'm going to drive you to the bus station so you can go to Chicago alone to identify a body that might be your friend's?"
“Well, damnit, I’m not going to waste time sitting around,” Cammie snapped, “I want to get there. Tell them it’s not her and they can fuck themselves for making me think it was.”
"Oh yeah, that attitude's going to go over wonderfully with the police force, especially considering you already have a record with them," Adrienne said in a tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'd better go with you so you don't end up getting arrested. And you'll get there faster if you fly, so you can book two flights for us when we get back to the mansion, while I pack an overnight bag."
“Fly…wait, what?” Cammie looked over at Adrienne riving, “You’re… coming with me?”
"If I don't, you're probably going to mouth off to the cops... after you throw a few punches, that is," Adrienne mused darkly, "and get arrested, and I wouldn't be a proper Xavier's Mansion Do-Gooder if I didn't try to encourage you to act responsibly, now would I? So yes, I think I will go with you." Besides, Cammie was still a kid, really, and Adrienne didn't think she should have to go through something like identifying a body on her own.
“I wouldn’t punch anyone,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. Flying though… as much as she hated to admit would be a lot faster than taking the bus. A couple hours and the whole damn thing would be done.
Adrienne rolled her eyes again as she returned the car to the garage at the mansion. "No, of course you wouldn't. You have incredible impulse control. You would never do anything impulsive like punch someone or leave work in the middle of a shift."
“How about the fact that punching a cop in a room full of cops isn’t that great of a way to stay out of jail. And jail doesn’t appeal to me,” Cammie returned. Also, she had to know. She really had to know.
"Excuse me if I don't trust you to remember that in the heat of the moment," the older woman replied, unlocking the doors and climbing out of the car. "I'm coming with you. Quit bitching about it. You book the flights while I talk to Drake about taking my classes for the rest of the day."
“Fine,” Cammie said, “But we are so not flying coach. I have enough on my mind, I don’t need to be resisting the urge to strangle whoever they stick two inches in front of me.”
Adrienne turned her patented Look of Bemusement on Cammie, half 'we'll fly whatever the hell I want because without me you'd be taking the bus' and half 'you think I'd ever fly coach?' and settled for muttering, "take it up with Amara, she has my credit cards."
“I’ll do that then,” Cammie returned.
***
Before fllying to Chicago, Cammie phones Kurt to inform him of the trip and the reason behind it.
Because she knew Kurt’s teaching schedule and didn’t want to end up explaining things to an answering machine, Cammie waited until she knew his last class had finished before dialing. She hated it when people did that to her, she wasn’t going to turn around and do it to someone else.
Phone to her ear after hitting the speed dial button she waited for him to answer.
"Hello?" was the first thing she heard when it was picked up. "Kurt Sefton here."
“Hey,” Cammie said, “So, being nice to the kids?” She hardly sounded upbeat.
"I am always nice to the kids." He was focused entirely on the phone, hearing that note in her voice. "What is wrong?"
“I’m at the airport with Adrienne,” Cammie said, turning to look at the wall instead of all the people rushing everywhere, “Taking a quick trip out to Chicago. Thought I’d let you know, you know?”
"And I appreciate it. But that does not answer my question."
“Yeah, I know. I’m getting to that,” Cammie said, “I got a call from the police in Chicago, and it’s not about me. At least not directly, I guess. I Mean, I’m not really in trouble trouble.”
"But you are in some kind of trouble?" He glanced at the clock. "What time does your flight leave?"
“I’m not, a friend is, maybe. I’m not completely sure,” she really hoped they were totally wrong, “It’s starting to board now. I’m with the boss-lady, so I’ll be okay. I’ll call you when I get there once I know for sure what’s going on, okay?”
"Call me when you land", he requested. "And if you need me, if anything at all happens, I will be there in minutes."
“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Cammie said, “Thanks, Kurt. Really.” It wasn’t something she said often, but she did mean it.
"You are welcome. Just do not hesitate because you think you are a bother, or for any other reason."
“Oh, I totally am a bother, but I know it doesn’t but you,” Cammie said, “I got to go now. Call you when I get there.”
"We will speak in a few hours", he agreed. "Have a safe flight."
***
Cammie explains her relationship with her friend Amy while on the flight to Chicago.
Cammie was too distracted to really care that they had indeed landed first class tickets on the first flight out to Chicago. She had made a couple of phone calls but was now marveling at how she couldn’t pass the time kicking the seat in front of them and how the silverware was real. Rich people got spoiled rotten, it seemed.
“So.. uh, thanks, for the plane tickets and stuff.”
"You were close to this person we're going to see, obviously?" Adrienne inquired while skimming a magazine, ignoring Cammie's thanks.
“Yeah, we were friends,” Cammie said, looking out the window, “I mean, we are. I sort of looked after her a lot. She was a pretty attractive target to a lot of the gangs around. Because of what she does.”
"She's a mutant, you mean?" The older woman was careful to switch to the present tense instead of past, noting that Cammie had done so and not wanting to upset her.
Cammie nodded, “She goes by ‘Mule.’ And in her case it isn’t just a cute name,” Cammie said.
Adrienne frowned and gave Cammie a curious look over her newspaper. "She transports drugs?"
“When it comes down between that or getting your ass kicked and/or raped, what would you do?” Cammie shot back, “I kept trying to get her to leave Chicago. But it’s… her powers make her perfect for it. She can literally hide things in her body, not just drugs.”
Flinching at Cammie's question, Adrienne focused on her magazine for a moment before regaining her composure. "That's quite a useful power," she commented, ignoring the question altogether. "And the Chicago PD contacted you to ID this body because... you used to work with Mule?" She was a little shaky on how the police knew to connect Cammie with this girl. "Or did you live together, something like that?" She didn't particularly want to assume that Cammie had been involved in the drug trade.
“I… I really didn’t like a lot of the gangs, or the fact that the first time I met her she was getting her ass kicked, so I kicked their asses,” Cammie said simply, “When I was around she didn’t have to do that crap. I made enough money for two people to live on just ripping people off.”
"And you told her about the mansion?" the older woman asked. She told herself to stop asking questions, to stop familiarizing herself with the girl since she was probably dead, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. "You said you tried to get her to leave Chicago... to come to the mansion?"
“Yeah, or just to New York, where people wouldn’t know what she could do and I could help her out,” Cammie said, “It’s… kids get this glorified idea of running away, I know because I had it, kinda, when I did. But the streets really aren’t safe.”
"Another way Disney, the movies, and television are ruining our lives," Adrienne muttered, completely agreeing with Cammie. "They make it seem like so much fun, or like there are child-less philanthropists running around everywhere just dying to pick up strays to complete their happy families, that everyone gets a warm loving home in the end. It's such bullshit." And realizing that she'd been ranting out loud, she clamped her mouth shut.
"So the police connected her to you because you used to take care of her?"
“On the phone they said there was a letter,” Cammie admitted, “We were writing back and forth,” Cammie said with a shrug.
Adrienne nodded in understanding, pausing for several moments to flip a page in her book. "Are you going to be okay with doing this? Not that I care," she added quickly, "I just... want to know in case you get the urge to punch someone, so I'll know to stand back."
“It won’t be the first dead body I’ve seen,” Cammie said dryly.
***
The Chicago PD interviews Cammie after she identifies Amy's body and Cammie comes to understand the importance of her friend's case to the authorities, which she does not take well.
Cammie had seen dead bodies before. It was one of those things that was bound to happen when you spent enough time on the streets. A couple of them had even belonged to people she knew. But none of them had been friends of hers. This had been different. She was still freezing cold as an after effect of having been in the morgue. Cammie never took the cold well at all. The long-sleeved shirt, black with white skulls on it, wasn’t doing it for her and she pulled her leather coat on over that and was still shivering.
Maybe it was more than the cold though. She had only been able to stand and stare down at her friend for a second before turning around and taking off out the doors. Now was the fun part, and she didn’t mean that literally. She hated cops. But maybe they’d actually do something, as you could tell Amy had been beaten up horribly before she died. So it had lead to this. Sitting in a room with her boss and two cops trying to show no real emotion at all.
"How long will it take you to locate her next of kin now that Miss Black has made your positive identification?" Adrienne asked casually, trying to sound as if she was actually interested in police procedure.
Detective Jack Hurley sucked on his toothpick. "We'll track down who we can, make some calls. If nobody claims it by the end of the month, it'll go in the county cemetery."
"'It?'" Adrienne retorted coolly, eyebrow raised.
Before his partner could reply with some of his canned anti-mutant bigotry- which he was ever-so fond of- Detective Michael Smith interjected, "He meant the body, ma'am. That is to say, Miss Wilson. All Detective Hurley meant was that we didn't have a name up til now." He shot his partner a look, warning him to be more careful.
"Well, she's not a body any longer," Adrienne replied, trying to keep her tone level and wondering why she cared what the cops called the girl. "If her family hasn't been found within the alloted time, I would appreciate it if you contacted me," she added. "I will make the funeral arrangements."
“Who did it,” Cammie said flatly, her eyes smoldering, “Do you guys know who killed her?”
"Prolly some wanna-be gang-banger lookin' t' make a name," Hurley scratched the back of his neck. "You know about any gang connections?"
“A gang-banger wouldn’t have done that, she was worth too much to most of them,” Cammie said harshly, “Try harder.”
Detective Smith furrowed his brow slightly. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I understand, how exactly was she valuable to them?"
“Given she didn’t have a police record you could pull her prints from, I think it sort of speaks for itself,” Cammie said. Most drug mules had long lists of arrests. Because of how Amy did what she did, she had been impossible to catch.
"Miss Black, we're the good guys here. We're trying to solve your friend's murder and if you withhold information from us that could prove vital to the case..." Smith shrugged and turned to his partner. "We need to know everything."
It was easier said than done. Cammie still had a massive distrust for any sort of police but whatever, “She called herself Mule. You figure it out,” she snapped, “Here’s a hint, it’s kind of what she did.”
Hurley started to laugh, tinged with a smoker's hack. "And you think someone wouldn't have offed her for what was in her? How naive are you, kid?"
“Because they could’ve held a gun on her and gotten it with a lot less mess,” Cammie said, “It would take too much time to kill her and then cut her open and go looking for it.”
"Do you have anyone you might suspect could have done this?" Smith asked, ignoring her sardonic tone.
“No,” Cammie said simply, “I don’t,” at least no one she’d sic the cops on. She’d beat the crap out of them herself, if she ever caught them. Truthfully there were quite a few people sick enough to beat someone to death, whether they were worth a lot or not.
"Do you have any further questions for Miss Black, gentlemen, or may we be on our way?"
Hurley snorted in disgust. "I got nothin'. Smith, I'm waiting in the car." The older officer turned and left without another word.
Smith shook his head and reached into his coat as his partner headed to the car. Handing Cammie his card he smiled reassuringly, "Call us if you think of anything, ma'am." The detective started toward the door, stopping just before pushing it open and turning back toward the pair of mutants. Reaching into his coat again he walked back to Cammie, "Miss Black. This," he held out a letter to her, "is the letter that we found on your friend. Addressed to you, and since we didn't find any prints on it or anything...well, I expect you'll be wanting it."
Cammie took the letter, “Thanks,” she said. The address on the envelope was scrawled in Amy’s bad handwriting, it was obviously hers, “If I think of anything I’ll call you.”
Smith nodded and turned to head out the door, he really did want to help and hoped that the green haired girl would eventually be forthcoming about who she suspected of committing this murder. The only caveat, she needed to get him that information before the trail went cold.
***
Back at the hotel, Adrienne agrees to read Amy's letter with her powers and afterwards, she and Cammie strike up a deal relating to their next move.
Back at the hotel room, Cammie pulled off the gloves and threw the coat to the side after getting the letter from the pocket. She didn’t need to read it right now. She had read it on the way back from the station, and right now she thrust it at Adrienne. “Read it,” she said, “That way you read stuff. Read this.”
"Dearest Carmilla, I am having a wonderful time at summer camp. Today I kissed a boy for the first time when we stole a canoe and snuck over to the boys camp," Adrienne mumbled theatrically, tossing it onto the bed. "You already read it." She decided to play ignorant about Cammie's implication of reading it with her powers, hoping Cammie would give up without Adrienne trying to tell her no.
“Fuck you,” Cammie said, “You know what I mean. They’re not going to be able to do a damn thing,” she pointed out, “Please. Just to know what happened.”
Adrienne sat down on the bed, giving the letter a wide berth. The fact that Cammie had said 'please' was complicating things in her mind. The younger woman seemed genuinely upset and Adrienne knew it was a rare occasion when Cammie cared enough to get upset about anybody. But she didn't want the images of Cammie's friend being murdered stuck behind her eyes forever. "You already know what happened, Cammie," she said in an uncharacteristically quiet tone. "Having me tell you isn't going to make it any better than the cops telling you. And I can't tell the cops what I read; whatever I find out is inadmissible in court. It can't help her now." She couldn't actually tell Cammie no, however.
“I know it won’t change anything,” Cammie said softly, “I don’t care if it’s not inadmissible or anything like that. I just need to know who did it to her. What happened. That letter… is very, very paranoid. She was scared,” Cammie said, “I just want to know why. We all know the cops aren’t ever going to solve it.”
"If I find out and I tell you you're going to find them and kill them," Adrienne pointed out, "and I don't know if I can let you do that. Not because I care about them, but because you'd get caught eventually. And then I'd probably get into shit as an accomplice," she added quickly, not wanting Cammie to think she cared about what happened to Cammie.
“I’m not going to kill them, shit, I don’t want to end up in jail,” Cammie returned, “And that tends to be what happens when a mutant goes and kills someone. A regular person goes and kills a mutant and you can bury the case under paperwork for years and years. But the other way around? They’re on you in a day. I just… need to know she wasn’t going crazy.”
Adrienne raised an eyebrow at Cammie's speech about mutants killing humans and being caught in a day, but she didn't comment on it. She got to her feet and washed her hands in the bathroom sink before returning to the bed. "Fine. But you're paying for my therapy bills when I go crazy reading this," she muttered before picking up the letter.
The first thing that came into view was a girl sitting at a battered desk scrawling the words on to the paper. The colored ink was common among teenagers and another pen was sticking out of the flesh on the girl writing the letter, no blood or anything indicated it had been stabbed, it just stuck out of her skin at an angle. A bible also sat, the cover had a name on it, Brewster House.
The writing was stiff. But effective. There was an open bag of licorice nearby.
She looked afraid. A sound came from outside the door and the letter was stuffed in its envelope and shoved somewhere dark.
Heavy breathing and running followed, the feeling of being jostled.
Beating.
Punching. Screaming.
Playing dead.
Dragging somewhere, somewhere perhaps where she could be seen. Found.
Breathing stopped.
Adrienne dropped the letter and curled up on the bed, taking a moment to steady herself and trying not to touch anything as she did so. She hadn't physically felt the blows, but watching the girl with the letter inside her being brutally beaten wasn't exactly a picnic when it triggered her own memories. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck. I saw her being attacked but I couldn't see who did it," she spat, angry with herself and whoever had beaten the young woman to death. "My range got all fucked up from the letter being inside her. Usually I have a much wider range. I think... because it was inside her, all I could see was the girl. Amy." Huffing out a breath, Adrienne ordered herself to get it together. "I saw her write it. There was a Bible at the place she was at. Hotel maybe? It said 'Brewster House' on it." She sat up, poking around in her purse and covering her hands with Forge's coating. "She was definitely afraid, before she... ingested the letter. Before the beating." Closing her eyes, Adrienne furrowed her brow and tried to get a clearer picture of what had happened to Amy, but nothing else materialized. "I can't see the people who hurt her," she admitted finally, sounding defeated.
“Maybe…what Amy did sometimes you couldn’t find what was in her. It’s what made her so effective, you know?” Cammie said “Otherwise people would be able to find it. I don’t get it all the way, but it was what she did,” she said staring out the window, “Brewster house… I can go… I’ll check it out. We can find something. Someone there will know something and I’ll have someone’s head to mount on a fucking wall.”
"What happened to 'I'm not going to kill them, I don't want to end up in jail'?" Adrienne asked pointedly, narrowing an eyebrow.
“You can mount a head without killing someone,” Cammie said evilly, “It just takes talent. I’m good at that sort of crap. Anyway, it deserves a look, don’t you think?”
"From the cops, or the X-Men maybe," Adrienne countered. "You're not a detective. You shouldn't be looking into anything. You did what you came here to do, now we should go back to New York." Except she had a feeling that wasn't part of Cammie's plan, and legally Adrienne had no pull over the younger woman to make her come back to the mansion.
“Oh yeah, because the cops are so effective and everyone back home will really care about a girl who used to traffic drugs to stay alive,” she retorted.
Adrienne was back to her original argument for not wanting to read the letter in the first place. "Look, you said you wanted to know she wasn't going crazy... and she wasn't. You found out what you wanted. You said you knew it wouldn't change anything to find out what happened. Why pursue it?"
“Because no one else will,” Cammie returned.
Adrienne let out a strangled scream of frustration and fell back against the bed, annoyed by the fact that that argument worked on her. "Fine. I can't make you come back to New York anyway. But here's what we're going to do alright? Two days. We'll stay two days. You have until the end of business on Friday to find out about this house, talk to the connections you have here. Then we go back." She supposed she could have let Cammie have the weekend, but giving her until the end of the business week seemed like more than enough time. The weekend would be the last one before Christmas- the city would be in chaos, transportation would be a mess, and Adrienne had packing to do for Australia. "Okay?"
“Okay,” Cammie said, “I got people I can stay with. Some of who might actually be glad to see me again. Maybe. I can do it on my own, you might not fit in. Biker bars and stuff. I’ll be out of your hair for the business. There’s this guy I used to see, he’ll get the idea that the whole joking relationship thing is over when I hit him but won’t hold it against me enough to let me crash at his place.”
Sitting up, the older woman sent Cammie a deathglare. "If you want to stay in Chicago you're staying here. I'll conduct my own business- I've got a scout here who has her own operation but has been struggling since the market tanked and I'd like to arrange an offer to buy her out and set up an office here in town with her at the helm. So I can occupy myself with that while you play detective. But I'm responsible for you so you'll come back here when the sun goes down." She nearly added 'missy' on the end of her spiel, but bit back the urge. "Not that I wouldn't fit in at a biker bar if I had my leathers," she added snippily.
Cammie laughed, “The places I’ve been, chances are you stand out pretty amazingly,” she said, “It’s the way you carry yourself. Trust me.”
Adrienne pouted. "Fine. You do your business, I'll do mine. We leave on Friday night, no matter what you find. Do we have a deal?" This was all assuming Bobby would cover the remainder of the week's classes for her, too, of course.
“Fine, deal,” Cammie said.
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