Post by Andrea Mitchell on May 11, 2012 5:57:18 GMT -5
[andrea] When she'd gotten the call from Poker Clements she had thought he was kidding. The hunter had been notorious about working alone. Mostly because he had a nasty tendency to use partners as bait, a thing her Ryan had learned the hard way the one and only time he'd worked with him. Not to mention he'd tried on more than one occasion to lure her away from Ryan for a tryst. Sure, she was a hot blooded woman then and now. But while he was living her husband was the only man for her. The sun and moon rose and fell in his eyes to her. No one else could even attempt to provide temptation to her.
Part of her wondered if he had learned of Ryan's death and was simply using the hunt as a ploy to lure her there and try his pathetic attempts at wooing her. But that wouldn't happen if hell froze over and wombats started pooping rainbows. She'd rather shoot the man on sight as to look at him after what he did to her Ryan. He'd cut him and tied him up, using him as bait to lure out a nest of vamps. Bastard. So when the call for help came she told him plainly and succinctly where he could shove it.
But a week later she'd gotten a call from the coroner in Monroeville, AL. Poker was dead and the last call from his phone had been to her none of the other contacts had answered. No surprise there. But when the coroner had told her the strange manner of his death. He was found outside a drug rehab in a dumpster. It was thought that maybe one of the patients had tried to make a drug deal with him and it had gone bad but all of the patients questioned had different stories.
But there was no clear cause of death. No visible wounds other than a small wound at the base of the skull. Switching gears and pouring on that classic Southern charm peppered with her most professional funeral home demeanor she explained who she was. No, not as a hunter but as a funeral director, and asked the coroner to wait for her before doing the autopsy on such a 'close family friend'.
In hours she had reached Monroeville, a charming little southern town. A few latex glove snaps later she was wearing a lab coat and safety goggles as the coroner performed the autopsy. All the internal organs were in place, the tox screen would take a few days though. Just as they were preparing to cut into the skull a police officer came in spouting about another body found in an alley near Potomac Street. "Same M.O. I think it's one of them addicts we interviewed last night. Might be the perp. Might be another vic."
As the coroner tried to make his apologies and leave she smiled, running a finger down along the collar of the lab coat before slowly easing it off her shoulders, making sure she allowed the aging man a generous view. It was a trick as old as time but never failed to draw attention directly to her and only her centering her in any straight man's thoughts. "Well Mr. Tompkins. I wouldn't want to delay you. Of course. I could just stay around here I suppose. Did I mention that I have worked as a deputy coroner in the past. I might be able to assist you, not that you need any help I'm sure. Not that such an exceptionally talented and capable man such as yourself but it might help me to keep occupied and not left to stew over thoughts of.." she let one small sniffle and dabbed at the corner of an eye. Oh the good old crocodile tears. She glanced at the body once then back to Mr. Tompkins, batting her eyelashes.
Ten minutes later......
She stood beside the man as they inspected the body. Another seemingly mysterious death. No wounds found. No broken bones. Just one small puncture in the head, just behind the ear. Hands on her hips she stared, processing possibilities of what it could be as she heard a voice behind her, claiming to be FBI. She knew that schtick. She'd used it before too. Many times. Crossing her arms under her chest she turned to see who it was.
Location: Alley - Monroeville, AL
Outfit:HERE [/andrea]
Part of her wondered if he had learned of Ryan's death and was simply using the hunt as a ploy to lure her there and try his pathetic attempts at wooing her. But that wouldn't happen if hell froze over and wombats started pooping rainbows. She'd rather shoot the man on sight as to look at him after what he did to her Ryan. He'd cut him and tied him up, using him as bait to lure out a nest of vamps. Bastard. So when the call for help came she told him plainly and succinctly where he could shove it.
But a week later she'd gotten a call from the coroner in Monroeville, AL. Poker was dead and the last call from his phone had been to her none of the other contacts had answered. No surprise there. But when the coroner had told her the strange manner of his death. He was found outside a drug rehab in a dumpster. It was thought that maybe one of the patients had tried to make a drug deal with him and it had gone bad but all of the patients questioned had different stories.
But there was no clear cause of death. No visible wounds other than a small wound at the base of the skull. Switching gears and pouring on that classic Southern charm peppered with her most professional funeral home demeanor she explained who she was. No, not as a hunter but as a funeral director, and asked the coroner to wait for her before doing the autopsy on such a 'close family friend'.
In hours she had reached Monroeville, a charming little southern town. A few latex glove snaps later she was wearing a lab coat and safety goggles as the coroner performed the autopsy. All the internal organs were in place, the tox screen would take a few days though. Just as they were preparing to cut into the skull a police officer came in spouting about another body found in an alley near Potomac Street. "Same M.O. I think it's one of them addicts we interviewed last night. Might be the perp. Might be another vic."
As the coroner tried to make his apologies and leave she smiled, running a finger down along the collar of the lab coat before slowly easing it off her shoulders, making sure she allowed the aging man a generous view. It was a trick as old as time but never failed to draw attention directly to her and only her centering her in any straight man's thoughts. "Well Mr. Tompkins. I wouldn't want to delay you. Of course. I could just stay around here I suppose. Did I mention that I have worked as a deputy coroner in the past. I might be able to assist you, not that you need any help I'm sure. Not that such an exceptionally talented and capable man such as yourself but it might help me to keep occupied and not left to stew over thoughts of.." she let one small sniffle and dabbed at the corner of an eye. Oh the good old crocodile tears. She glanced at the body once then back to Mr. Tompkins, batting her eyelashes.
Ten minutes later......
She stood beside the man as they inspected the body. Another seemingly mysterious death. No wounds found. No broken bones. Just one small puncture in the head, just behind the ear. Hands on her hips she stared, processing possibilities of what it could be as she heard a voice behind her, claiming to be FBI. She knew that schtick. She'd used it before too. Many times. Crossing her arms under her chest she turned to see who it was.
Location: Alley - Monroeville, AL
Outfit:HERE [/andrea]
