Overture: Out of Towners


James Green
​


 
​


 
​


A sizable group it seems, will they all be working upon the case? More eyes and hands means more ground covered, this was good. He turned his attention to the Federal agents and gave then both a nod, returning the woman's handshake.


"Detective James Green, a pleasure to meet you." he extended the greeting to the other federal agent, who if he gathered was named Eddie Scoleri, italian? His last name was strange but... Guess it could be worse, though usually Eddie was short form for Edward, seemed abit to relaxed for James' tastes but regardless it was good to have extra eyes around. Though... it seemed Frank did not like the two already, he wondered what provoked such a response... but it was needless to think about so long it didn't cause issue. 


Now to address the crowd.


"Thank you for the warm reception, Wilton seems like a fine town, likely brimming with history. I am Detective James Green, and as much as we should get to know you all we should get down to business, we're here to investigate the recent disappearances of Emily Fontenot, Tony Dagneau and the murder of Abigail Chapman. We should get this under way while were together. I am certain the scene where Abigail was found has been already looked over but we should give it another after we investigate the body. Evidence from it might just lead us into a new direction." James addressed the group before giving a once over to the lot of them. 


"Of course, that is after we notify the Sherif of our presence of course. If that is needed as of this moment."
 
At mention of the sheriff, the ever-cheerful Bobby Scranton looks like someone put his balls in vice.


"Ayuh," he says, "we, uh, we better go see Sheriff Edmond alright, before getting down to business. You all mind followin' me to his office?" he continues, waving vaguely at the door behind him.
 
Diane Cooper


With Frank's comment seeming to fall on deaf ears, Diane returns James' greeting warmly, and does the same with any other hand offered to her. She smiles and nods at the deputies arrival, but her relief to see another woman on the team doesn't show on her face.
"Sure," she replies to Deputy Scranton's suggestion to go inside, "lead the way."
 
Last edited by a moderator:

Trent Malloy
​


 
​


Trent shrugged at the crumbs comment and smiled.  "Sometimes you miss a few.  It's been a bit of a rushed day so far.  Louise's does make a good meatloaf, also some great pie as well.  You all should try some while you are in town."  He shakes a few offered hands, and tried to appear professionally friendly.  At the mention of Sheriff Edmond his smile faded a bit, and he gulped.  He shared a brief dreading look with Jane.  Well, this could get ugly.  So much for our friendly start.  He felt that Sheriff Edmond wasn't going to be in the best of moods, and sincerely hoped that the Sheriff wasn't going to make a scene.  Even so, Trent wasn't sure if he was going to be included in the case anyway.

Figuring that Bobby could usher the group in, Trent walked into the department and held doors open for the others when appropriate, and waited to see if the Sheriff would include him or not.
 
The office is nice enough - used to be a spacious cabin, later a big hardware store.  Desks cluttered with the detritus of their owners, a side room with fridge and coffee machine, radio room all but sealed off from the world. 


Sheriff Jack Edmond, declares a door in the back with blocky black lettering.  Scranton dithers outside, as if looking for the best inflection to start an explanation with 'oh, these aren't my kids,' but finally knocks.


"Yeap," the sheriff rumbles, and Bobby steps inside.


"State Police and FBI to see you, Sheriff."


"Send 'em in."


Bobby looks at you all imploringly. 


"You too, Scranton."


Jack Edmond has a selection of shooting trophies on the wall behind him, and a photo of him and someone who might be his son stood over a great big buck on the right side of the desk. The man himself is much younger in that picture, smiling. The slouching giant in front of you doesn't look like he knows what a smile is, face carved from stone and a frame like a scarecrow with a gym membership. Flinty eyes.


"Well," he drawls, "welcome to Wilton, Officers Green & Mosely. Agents," he adds, a grudging afterthought. "I hear one of you is a doctor - good, because that's about the only thing we can't do ourselves."
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Eddie


Well. Great.  Eddie isn't sure why he thought this was going to be easy, but one look at the sherrif's ugly mug is enough to correct that misapprehension.  In the space of a sentence he's alienated them completely.  Eddie knows better than to fight the man on his own turf.  Better to give him ground and see if he's just being territorial, instead of a bitter, unprofessional, grade-A moron.


"Thanks, Sherrif." He gestures to his partner. "Agent Cooper can speak for herself on the medical front, but if there is anything else any of you need, happy to be another pair of hands and eyes."
 
Last edited by a moderator:




Trent looked at Bobby Scranton, gave him a brief thumbs up, and mouthed "Good Luck."  He definitely didn't envy anyone going in to meet the Sheriff right now, although he considered that the F.B.I. agents might be used to this sort of thing.  While Trent didn't like it, he could understand why the Sheriff would be unhappy with the situation.  He felt that, by calling in the Feds, the mayor basically implied that he had no confidence in the Sheriff's ability to solve the case.  It was a professional and political slap in the face.  Mayor Norwood might be right though.  We're not used to this sort of thing, and it has been four months since Abigail disappeared.  And now she is dead.  The stakes have changed.  Trent frowned as his thoughts drifted back towards the case.  Once all of the new arrivals went in to meet Sheriff Edmond, Trent decided now was a good of a time as any to get a smoke break in.  He went out back behind the building, and pulled out his cigarettes.  After a brief moment of consideration, he walked about fifty feet away from the building, pulled out a single Camel cigarette, then lit it, and sat on a faded yellow parking block.  He glanced at the brown wooden grip of his Smith & Wesson revolver.  Maybe I should finally switch to an automatic?  I bet the agents and the detectives are using new Glocks or Sigs.  They probably don't have to buy their own guns though.  I'd have to get used to the feel of an automatic again.  Might be worth it.  He reflected that he had stuck with the old magnum revolver mostly because it was free, convenient, and he was too cheap to replace it with anything else at the moment.  He also felt that he was a pretty good shot with it now, and in a sense, it complimented his "Old West Deputy" sort of look that he had gradually adopted, even though Maine was nowhere near the "Old West."  He also knew from firsthand experience that the old revolver could still reliably kill.

He zipped his brown deputy's uniform jacket up and crossed his arms.  It's starting to get colder out.  Summer will soon be over.  His thoughts continued to drift back to the case, and he deeply pondered the possibilities behind it.  Abigail Chapman went missing on the twenty-fifth of May.  We looked everywhere, all over the woods, and even had a camera drone available.  He somewhat remembered questioning quite a few people during that time (not long before he had been suspended), and he felt he had checked out every hot tip about the case that he had been given, even the weird and unlikely ones.  Her body didn't show up until August thirty-first, four months after her disappearance, and two days after Emily Fontenot and Tony Dagneau went missing.  Tony is nineteen, and male.  That's a bit old for being kidnapped, and doesn't fit with the rough profile.  He paused his train of thought momentarily, and smoked some more.  Which is probably why Edmond thinks he did it.  But what would the motive be if he did?  Had Abigail and Tony known each-other?  Trent let out a long exhale of smoke, then looked at his cigarette.  The kidnapper might be a smoker.  That might explain the burnt tree facing Abigail's window.  He might have been waiting there a while for her in the dark, watching her bedroom window, and smoked a few.  People forget to stomp down their butts, and things begin to smolder.  Smokey the Bear's jingle of "Only you can prevent forest fires" briefly entered his mind.  I wonder if they found any cigarette butts around the tree?  Or had the kidnapper been smart enough to come back later and pick them up?  The guy had to have been smart, if he took her from her own room without forcing an entry or being seen.  He pictured an image from an old Dracula movie, of the vampire gliding and levitating up to the bedroom window, and being willingly invited in with his mesmerizing charm and mystical powers, then escaping into the misty night with his prey.  Trent chuckled briefly at the absurdity of it, but then he frowned deeper.  Or he was someone she knew.  That would be troubling.  Most kidnappings do usually involve someone the victim knew, and that would explain how he got her out of the house.  A fifteen year old girl is still a lot of body to struggle with involuntarily, or carry if unconscious.  Bodies are always heavier than they seem in the movies, and someone might have noticed him struggling with it.  Her being voluntary would explain a bit. 

He considered the two cases further while he continued to smoke.  How do we even know they are directly related?  This might be two separate things that are just coincidentally close together.  That's still not a good thing if we have two separate kidnappers working in the town for different reasons.  It will make it all way more difficult.  He thought about the Fontenot/Dagneau case, but drew a lot of blanks.  He had just come off of suspension when it happened, and was on desk duty watching the phones while everyone else was out searching.  They went missing out by the lake.  Had we dredged the water or sent in divers?  Bodies usually float unless they are weighted down, don't they?  He realized he didn't know.  Abigail's body was found not that far from the lake.  Did the killer/kidnapper live close by to the lake?  Had he been holding her there this whole time?  He tried to think of everyone he knew that lived out by the lake, or any cabins that weren't far from it, or anyone that had a shed, basement, or cellar that could hide someone for four months unnoticed, but he drew a lot of hazy blanks.  He felt pretty sure that the department had spoken with everyone around there.  What had we missed?  Who had we not spoken to or suspected?  Was the kidnapper someone in plain sight?   Like it or not, Trent was becoming increasingly convinced that Mayor Norwood had made the right call when he called Washington.

His thoughts troubled, and his single cigarette for the afternoon finished, Trent got up off the yellow parking block, smudged out the cigarette before tossing it in the trash bin (wouldn't want to piss off Smokey Bear), and headed back inside.  He went to his small corner desk in the main office, sat down, and waited.
 
Last edited by a moderator:

Frank Mosely
​




"Good afternoon sheriff." Frank speaks as he stands easy. 


Focus Frank, you have to focus.  You know your mission.  Don't let Ice Queen or Mt. Rushmore over there get to you.  Just another case.  Just another soul gone too early.  We know that we have one dead and now two missing.  Girl taken early, now dead.  Ok, taking the first girl is one thing.  Having a 19 year old male and another female go missing as well?  That does not fit.  Did the teen see something?  Is he a victim, or a perp? 


"What do we know about Mr. Dagneau and the young Ms. Fontenot?  Was he a known troublemaker, or a respectable youth?"
 
Sheriff Edmond sniffs, declines to shake any hands, and gestures to a thin file sitting on the desk.


"Daigneau ain't anymore respectable than the rest of his people.  Don't let 'em fool you.  Little Emily's just a baby," he glances out the window, the slightest softening to his craggy features. "I shudder to think."


He pierces Scranton with a look. 


"Bobby, go tell Jane and Malloy they're assigned to this, ah, detail.  Show these nice out-of-towners around."


Deputy Scranton practically bolts from the room, scratches the back of his head as he walks into the middle of the main room.


"Uh, Jane, Trent. Sheriff says you're working with the Agents and police." He glances over his shoulder. "Guess you better get 'em to the clinic?"
 
Last edited by a moderator:

Trent Malloy
 
​


Surprise and a little bit of relief settled upon Trent, and at the same time, a new weight of responsibility that he had not felt in a long time, possibly since Afghanistan.  The feeling was now unfamiliar to him, like someone else had carried that weight in a previous life.  He had been out of the Marines for a while now.  

He had not expected to be chosen for this detail.  Jane, to him, was an obvious choice, but he had been certain someone other than himself would be put on it.  He found that his energetic nervousness from earlier was replaced by a cold and steady calm.  He stopped fidgeting with his hands.  Well, this is what you wanted, right?  Better not screw this up, it just very well might be the last chance you get here.  These people deserve justice.  Abigail deserves justice.  The clock is ticking on their lives, if it hasn't already struck midnight already.  You don't have time to waste.  This is your job now.  Remember that.

Trent felt determined.  He stood up and nodded at Bobby.  "I will get right on it."  He then walked up to the Sheriff's office door and waited patiently in a casual "parade rest" stance, with his hands behind his back, until the group exited, then gave them a friendly smile, and said "Well, it looks like me and Deputy Fisher will be your assistants on this case, and your tour guides to the fair town of Wilton."  His smile faded, and he continued "I suppose you will want to get to it immediately.  Shall we go to Doc Potter's clinic and examine the body?  It's not far, but I can lead you over there if you would like..."  He paused briefly.  "...since I figure you will each want to take your own cars.  I will be driving the red and white 1986 Ford F-150 parked out front.  Did you folks have any questions for me before we leave?"
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Eddie takes the Sherrif's suggestion to his deputy as one they should all follow, and begins making the gradual motions that will drag the group out the door until they can all troop out as one, nice and unawkward-like. He shakes his head gratefully at Trent - he'll not attempt an ice-breaker like 'where's a good place to eat around here's while still in earshot of the craggy Sherrif on the other side of the door - especially not when Diane is about to start autopsying.


"I think we'll be alright for the drive," he assures, still putting his all into appearing at-ease. "Thanks."
 
Diane Cooper


The few sentences the Sheriff managed to throw their way pretty much confirmed Diane's worst fears from the car journey earlier. Best case scenario they'll be able to get by working with him indirectly. As for the rest of the detail, well, at least Frank has signposted himself early on; she only hopes there won't be any similar surprises later.


Nodding in agreement with her partner, she adds "Nothing springs to mind, but that'll probably change once I get a look at Abigail."
 

Trent Malloy
 
​



Trent nodded at the assemblage.  "Alright then.  I will meet you over there."  He went to his desk and locked everything up, then headed out to his truck for the drive over, taking a moment to take a few bites of his lunch that was still sitting on the passenger seat as he drove.
 
 
Dr. Potter's clinic resembles a government building - mostly concrete, bland, modernish.  Looks built onto some older buildings, so as small as it is it's chaotic in structure, poking out at unusual angles.  One of those older parts was a butchershop.  On approach from the station you can see the enclosed diesel gennie around the left corner from the door.  No signage but a small plaque - Dr. Larry Potter.


The receptionist is out, seemingly, but the desk has a lived-at quality and the little waiting room is covered with framed photographs of local events; smiling children and grinning politicians, beaming newlyweds and proud fishermen with prize catches.  Lovingly kept wood siding, worn but comfortable chairs upholstered in a black that used to be red. 


The door to the clinic proper is open and you can hear faint electronic music from inside.
 
Eddie Scoleri


"...an hour to DC, three more to New York, eight hours north from there to Moosefuck, Nowhere - and what do we get?  The ungrateful prick just wants us to turn around and go home while his veterinarian helps him solve two missing people?"


Okay. So the ride up to the vet clinic was... Not exactly civil on Eddie's part.  But it was important for field agents to be on the same page, and right now Eddie's page was filled with doodles of Sherrif Cranky's face halfway through a proctology exam.


He was better now, though.  The game plan had not changed: be polite. Be useful. Be unobtrusive. Get shit done.  Help Diane while she did the real work.


Eddie was all smiles when they got to the clinic, though. It felt solid. There was effort here. All of those pictures were of real people, and he had no doubt those chairs were prime sleeping material, worn down by men with retrievers and women expecting a litter of kittens, or whatever pet owners did.


He was kind of curious about the music, though. The wub-wub of electronica was not what he's expected to hear.  He inclined his head curiously at Agent Cooper, and raised his voice as they stepped through the doorway.


"Hello? Anyone here?"
 
James green


Having been keeping quiet and giving the whole scenario a once over, he expected the sheriff to be up front and very angry about their appearance... but he was, in the end, relatively mild. His hatred was palpable but he was short as opposed to the roving anger that he would of expected from the behavior of the others. Still, you could tell he was top dog and ran a tight ship. The fact this happened on his watch must've bothered him a great deal, james knew it would bother him. frightened people, grieving parents, he was likely the one who had to speak to them time and time again. 


Giving the man some leniency was more then called for. But still, it would be good to have some eyes open and watching him and his crew. Scranton as well provoked some curiosity, but for now unless provoked into researching such james shall focus on whats ahead. 


The body. 


With the feds in the elad James followed the man named... uhh... Reggie? Yea Reggie, inside. "perhaps they are in the back? think we should make ourselves known?" he asked the others before he began to look over the pictures and the surrounding area. 
 
A man in a white jacket to match the colour of his close-cropped hair leans around the doorframe, tapping his smartphone and ceasing the sound.


His wrinkled features flatten with relief, and he scans the lot of you with bright blue eyes under bushy brows.


"Ah, the law," he says, with a joyless smile, "please do come in - Larry Potter at your service."


The surgery looks much like any other.
 
Trent Malloy


Trent had arrived before everyone, and waited outside the clinic, while he smoked his second cigarette of the day.  He waited until the rest had arrived and entered, before entering himself.  He noted that a number of them seemed a bit grim, perhaps even angry after the meeting with Sheriff Edmond, although Agent Scoleri seemed in good spirits.  He couldn't blame them, he imagined it was a rough conversation.  Jack is a proud man, and usually quite competent and capable.  To have something like this...mess on his hands spiral out of control...well, it's hard to ask for help, and especially hard to receive help when you hadn't asked, even if you did need it.  Especially so for proud men, as the pride pill is a tough one to swallow.  Here's hoping we can put it past us, learn to work together, and focus on the case.  

Hearing the electronica music, Trent smiled.  He glanced at some of the photos on the wall, and paused at one with an especially big fishing catch.  That's a big fish.  I should take Kaylene fishing again.  It's been a long time.

When he saw Doc Potter approach, he smiled sadly, and said "Hey Doc.  Looks like we're getting right to business.  These are the State Police Detectives and Federal Agents we were waiting for."  Trent waited for the others to individually introduce themselves, and additionally to follow the others lead, as he felt that medical examination and forensics at this level was above his pay grade, and was unfamiliar with the procedures.
 
Eddie 


"Agent Scoleri and my partner, Doctor Agent Cooper, Mr. Potter. Thanks for having us." Eddie says quickly, even as he wonders if it would be better for the pathologist to take the lead in here.  Speaking up is a bit of a nervous habit, though: you can't be noticed, not on the fairway or the classroom or the emergency room, if you don't speak up.


Not that this office dragged out of the early eighties is someplace that should make him nervous, or anything.  But the urge to speak up is still a bit too hard to suppress while he has the chance.
 

Frank Mosely
​




Standing about the clinic, Frank noted the electronic music, and frowned.  So, the good doctor has A) no sense of humor, B) a true sense of the gravity of this situation, or C) knows something.  My money is on C.
"Did you find anything unusual when you looked at the decedents?"
 
Diane Cooper


Diane is content to listen during the drive to the surgery, gratified that Eddie voices concerns and first impressions similar to hers, albeit somewhat more vocally.


The personal nature of the surgery decoration puts her in mind of Miss Hazel's tiny office, crammed with framed photographs of every baby she delivered on the Farm. Maybe this place wasn't really so far removed from where she grew up....



Managing not to wince with the introduction as Doctor Agent, Diane extends a hand to the vet, "Doctor Potter, good to meet you."
 
Potter nods, shaking hands. 


"Good strikes me as a misread of the situation," he says, turning, "but I am glad to have you."  He gestures for you to follow him into the surgery proper - spacious enough but Diane is used to bigger. "As for what remains of that poor girl, I'd probably have an easier time listing what isn't unusual."


He pauses by a heavy metal door in the back of the room, then turns to face you all, arms folded.


"I can tell you right now; the only wounds on the body are from animals, post-mortem, and I'll put money down on death by exsanguination even if I can't tell how it was done."
 
Eddie Scoleri


Doc Potter immediately makes himself comfortable at the top of the 'pros' column for Wilton.   He was not someone whom he would even try to hook as a whale on the Fairway, but rather was the down-to-earth, precise, clever sort who could make for a really good chat if he decided to pull up a chair on a whim and get his fortune read.  The guy who would look closely enough to figure out where the strings and wires were hidden, but if you were good at your job, would then sit back and enjoy the ride.


He would wait until after Potter had settled Diane in to his work before talking with the man, but he struck Eddie as the sort who formed opinions and wouldn't be opposed to advising the professionals with a little conjecture.  For now, he settled for returning the handshake with grateful respect.
 
Trent Malloy


Trent raised an eyebrow and glanced at Agent Scoleri.  Doctor Agent?  I thought they were just "Agents" even if they were doctors?  Shows what I know.

His thoughts abruptly changed when Doc Potter mentioned the possible cause of death.  Exsanguination?  He thought for a moment, confused.  Loss of blood...right...but the Doc doesn't know how?  Blood loss is a terrible and painful way to die.  Doesn't exsanguination imply that more than usual or most of the blood was lost or gone? Trent's face went grim and a chill ran across him as he considered the possibilities, from some sort of twisted black market medical thing, to something absurd like a Hannibal Lecter, Elizabeth Bathory, or Buffalo Bill type serial killer with a hemovore fetish.  I hope the "Doctor Agent" narrows it down, because the clock is against us, and this case is getting weirder and weirder all the time.
 
 
Diane Cooper


Damn, scavengers got to her; they're great at vanishing with mouths full of evidence. This will only serve to make finding out where she was kept all the more difficult.

Diane nods as Dr Potter describes the situation, making a noise of slight confusion at the cause of death.
"Exsanguination with no visible cause is unusual; have you performed anything other than an external examination?"
 
You must log in or register to reply here.

Users who are viewing this thread

Total: 2 (members: 0, guests: 2)

Similar threads

Brianne13
ISO of RP Partner
Replies
2
Views
210
Brianne13
Brianne13
Back
Top