House of Cards

Who: Jakob and Sam
Where: ECPD headquarters
When: Morning

It read wonderfully, Jakob had to admit. Not that he was surprised, he'd been very clear in the wording he'd fed to his contact down at the Echo about how things were meant to be phrased in the newspaper, but he was pleased. And while it wasn't the main story on the front page, it was on the front page, period. That meant it'd be seen, and would hopefully have the effect he intended, both on the city and on his partner. He wasn't going to press the issue though, there was a good chance that she hadn't seen today's paper, and besides that? They had cases to work. The string of fires in particular, despite not having any casualties yet, had been a major draw for the acting leadership of the police force.

So while Jakob and Sam weren't anywhere near the leads on the case, Jakob had been told to follow idle leads in his usual manner: shake down contacts, ask questions, follow every trail even if it dead-ended. And eventually he would, but it would have to wait until Sam showed up. He had no right to be impatient, given that he was the one who was usually here early to skim new cases, but with his second cup of coffee in front of him and a deck of cards expertly turning in one hand as he read the newspaper spread out on his desk, Jakob was getting antsy. It showed how he wanted it to, this time as a look of vague distress on his face as he nabbed his mug and took a drink.

Sam almost didn't come into work that day and it wasn't because she was getting the limelight in a nice little article towards the bottom of the front page. No, it was because of the pounding migraine behind her eyes that had her calling a taxi to take to work instead of her car (considering she'd taken so much time off when she was first transferred). Someone handed her a paper on her way in, her bleary eyes behind sunglasses and a cup of coffee in one hand with a muttered 'congratulations'. Sam started to turn her head to call after them but the pain behind her eyes did not agree with that idea. What did she have to be congratulated about anyway?

Her shaded eyes skimmed the article as she resumed her way to the department, sticking close to the wall so she wouldn't run into anyone. She was being referred as the detective on point, the lead in the investigation and it was her own report that was being quoted. What on earth... who had come up with this? Not to say that it wasn't nice, it was, but it was pretty damn confusing. She headed over to her desk, spying Jakob already at his own, but for once, the guy seemed fidgety. Not that he was jumping off the walls or anything, but he was definitely in a more... wiggly mood than she'd usually see him. She held up the paper to him, her eyes masked by the sunglasses. "You're not angry about this, are you?" Jakob was the senior detective. She was the rookie and even though he was a pretty decent guy didn't mean his feathers got ruffled.

Setting his mug aside, Jakob smiled to himself when he heard Sam's voice, quickly glancing up with a bemused expression given to her sunglasses. "A bit too bright inside the precinct today?" he greeted, starting to split the deck of cards at seemingly random intervals, turning each new cut outwards to show Sam. The ace of diamonds came first, then the spade, then the club, all exactly where Jakob had wanted them to be in spite of his constant shuffling and busy hands. His eyes narrowed on the newspaper article she was holding up, the last cut of cards faltering (intentionally, of course) to reveal a seven of clubs. Jakob turned it inward with a faint scowl, sighing and setting the whole deck aside on his desk. "What would I have to be angry over?" he asked genuinely, nodding to the desk across from his as if to ask Sam to sit.

"You're lead," Sam said, leaning her hip against the desk and looking back at the article. It was nice to be spotlighted like this, the recognition. She wouldn't deny that. It was satisfying. But she didn't want Jakob to get shortchanged on his end of the investigation. "You did as much work as I did and they don't exactly mention that." She eyed the deck of cards. "Brushing up on your backup hobbies? You're not going to quit on me and become Master Moriarty the Magnificent, are you?"

"I could never deal with the pay cut," Jakob assured her as he slid his cards back together, tapped them on his desk, and set them aside. "In my childhood, there was a local performer who would do shows for every holiday, the Amazing Palmieri. He hooked me on the art of it at an early age, and I suppose I could've pursued it? However, there are jobs that pay less than ours out there, incredulous as the suggestion sounds. That would be one of them. But no, I'm not angry." He sighed quietly, leaning forward on his desk and grabbing his coffee. Jakob sipped it lightly, grimacing over the lack of heat as he looked to Sam, eager to spin another tale that had threads of truth to it. "After all, I was the one who gave your report to the papers. I was told to prepare the case for the press."

Sam noted the grimace at his cup of coffee and with a sigh, handed him hers. "Hot and fresh," she said, because her head hurt too much to keep drinking it. "I just wanted to make sure it was alright and if you were the one who did the press release, then who am I to argue?" She shrugged and sat down at her desk, dropping the paper on the table in front of her. It was actually pretty damn gratifying. She reached over and took his deck of cards, shuffling them the way she'd been taught. The Faro shuffle was her favorite. The one that her dad would use when he wanted her to impress people. It was the standard Bicycle deck and she looked at Jakob from behind her sunglasses. "Bet you I could tell you the exact order the deck is in."

Jakob chuckled richly at that, a flicker in his eyes for a moment over that single word. Bet. Could she? Did she know how much things could change from one simple wager? He doubted it, but now that she'd made the challenge he had to see it through. "We'll stake lunch on it," he requested neatly, as if Sam hadn't just been playing with the cards, "After we make a pass of the last scene of the fires, captain's orders." And immediately, his mind was turning. Looking to distract Sam for a minute or two before she could go through the deck, and maybe she'd forget the order of the cards. "Also, I was hoping you wouldn't mind if you continued to be the public end of our work for a while," Jakob requested, keeping his eyes on Sam instead of the cards, "The less my name is in the paper lately, the better."

"I'm all for lunch," she agreed, finishing the fifth shuffle. It was a damn hard shuffle that had taken her a pretty long time to perfect for this one simple trick. "So they're passing the fires onto us, huh? What has the fire department said?" She would think the fire department would be the ones investigating the fires, since, well, it involved fires. "Have they found bodies?" That could be the only reason, but she recalled reading in the paper that the warehouses had been empty... then again, it's not like the papers had all the information all the time.

"The fire department is still investigating," Jakob clarified, "But the quickness of the first batch is a hefty load for them. The captains have agreed to loan out manpower where they can, and since we've closed our priority case..." He sighed a bit, as if that explained it all. "They don't expect us to crack the case by any means, but we have more experience seeking out and handling potential witnesses than they do. So we'll make a stop between..." he trailed, glancing at the cold cases littering his desk, "Between John and Jane Doe. Jane looks like a brothel dump, John's probably a mugging gone sour." Grabbing both files and flipping them open, Jakob slid both over to Sam's desk so she could at least skim the initial reports. Neither seemed solvable, already resulting in dead ends with no witnesses, but both were good distractions from the cards, and Jakob Hollis was never above cheating. Not even for a free lunch.

"If it's a brothel dump, we're not gonna get her real name." Sam finished the sixth shuffle and paused to take a look down at the Jane Doe. She still couldn't help but grimace at the pictures of the crime scene. Jane Doe didn't look that old and again, Sam was glad she'd never had been put in a situation where hooking was her only option. "She's been ruled out as a victim of the one guy you took care of last month, right?" She had never seen those files and she figured it had been the case, but it never hurt to ask. And as she waited for the answer, she shuffled the deck carefully again. Seven.

With a quick sip of his coffee and a nod, Jakob slid the file back to pick out the details he'd noticed that confirmed as much. "Aside from the key details, such as still bearing her nose? Yes, there are half a dozen facts in the report contradicting the patterns of our late serial killer," he informed Sam, "Initial coroner's observations noted malnutrition and physical trauma consistent with longterm substance abuse. I'd wager it's more likely that her overseers used her up." And sometimes that bothered even Jakob, though not so much for the cruel aspects. More that there were so many more uses for people than these types ever seemed to realize, and all of those uses stopped when they died.

"And they wouldn't be stupid enough to dump her anywhere near their own club," Sam said with her own sigh. "Although the drugs found in her system along with her age should help narrow the list down some." Which, judging by what she'd skimmed over, meant they weren't dealing with the skeevier side of the sex trade on htat end, which Sam was very relieved about. "I can hit up vice to see if there's any places they've been watching that might help." While Sam may not be everyone's buddy in the department, she was a firm believer that the departments should work together. Different types of crimes could, from time to time, be tied together. Kidnappings escalating into killing, sex trading turned to dump jobs. Completing the eighth and final shuffle, Sam set the deck aside to flip open John Doe to take a look. Middle-aged male with his face too messed up for any good identification. How lovely.

"Good idea," Jakob agreed, "I'll have the coroner do a stomach content inquiry as well. Malnourished or no, she must've eaten something before death, maybe it could shed some light on her neighborhood of employment." He didn't usually like to deal with other departments, too often his reputation preceded him and he was met with open hostility or claims that he was trying to steal someone else's collar. No doubt Sam would be met with some derision too, Jakob knew that plenty of men on the force held her in low regard, but their animosity wouldn't actually hold her back. It would merely be insulting, and he had faith that Sam could insult them far worse. Men were, after all, such delicate creatures of ego. "In any case, cross-indexing the drugs, vice's inquiries, and her last meal should narrow our filter. We'll need to show her photo around town, too, very few of these ladies start off in private establishments. Maybe someone knew her."

"I'd say the chances of finding out who killed her are slim, but at least we could let her kin know," Sam said, and sometimes, that was good enough for her. Especially if this girl was hooking. There had to be someone out there who was wondering what had happened. Sam wasn't going to let department rivalries or personal grudges hinder an investigation, even if it led to headaches and needing to hit people over the head. What was important to Sam was the victim and the victim's family. It was something that she hoped the new commissioner might try to promote. Maybe then they could finally diminish the massive pile of cold-cases. She preened a bit. "And of course it's a good idea. I came up with it."

He nodded slightly, chuckling at Sam's pride. "Lo, and I see what I have created with a single article in the paper," he teased lightly, "Don't let your new ego crash down if this doesn't lead us anywhere." Jakob winked Sam's way with that, sitting back in his chair lazily. "If Vice gives you any grief, tell the captain he still owes me money, but we can wipe the ledger clean for his assistance," Jakob said offhandedly with a grin, "He should be motivated by wanting to close a case, but if he's not? His finances never hurt as an incentive."

"And you can use that money to buy my lunch," Sam said with a nod. She handed him the deck of cards. "I'll know if you're cheating so don't even try to shuffle the deck or switch cards on me, Hollis." She closed the John Doe folder and crossed her arms over her chest. "And maybe I've always been this self-confident. I was in the top of my class, thank you." She poked her tongue out at him.

Turning the deck around in his hands, Jakob chuckled richly at the suggestion as he turned the first card and laid it down for both of them to see. "The greatest trick of our profession, Sam, is to be able to prove what you know. Knowing is never enough in and of itself, or else Don DiGiovanni and his countless kin would be behind bars," he waxed as he made a slow progression through the deck, laying out each card to confirm the order Sam had put them in. "The second-greatest trick, of course, is to perceive your own limits. Confidence is fine and good, but the top of the class faces wholly different standards when class is over."

She was good, he had to give her that; her concentration wasn't leaving him one bit as he talked, which made the trick so much harder to do. Still, the presentation was deliberate, it gave Jakob small twists and turns of wrist and finger, enough leeway to slip a card from the back of the deck and tuck it a few cards ahead. Would she catch him? He was definitely curious to see if either Sam was that sharp or if he'd grown that rusty.

Sam didn't notice the slip of the hand and continued to recite each card correctly. It was almost bored the way she recited. "What is there to gain by proving what you know?" she asked before he could put down another card. Technically, that's something she was doing right now, wasn't it? Proving that she could do something. "Not in an investigation sense -- that's now how the judicial system works -- but in other aspects?" She gave him a nod to go ahead and when he set the card down, she frowned. "You cheated." That card was meant to be the last one and she pulled her sunglasses down a little to look at him in the eyes. "That's supposed to be a four of clubs, not the ace of spades." She recited the remaining, proper order of the deck without him turning the cards over, waiting for him to take a look and prove her wrong. Sam... wasn't very sure how she felt about him trying to slip her up like that.

"Indeed I did," Jakob confirmed easily, idly turning each remaining card as Sam called them out. He waited until they'd finished the deck before studying her expression, fighting his own smirk. "Of course, being able to call the order of a stacked deck requires me to, and more importantly? Knowing that I did so and being able to prove it are very different things." He reclaimed his coffee, leaning on his desk and sipping it lazily, as if there weren't cases or an owed lunch waiting for them outside. "None of this will change the wager, either, but understand the point of it. You can know something, Sam, you can have witnessed Papa Bartelucci loading dynamite into a truck with your own eyes. But if he pays a patrolman to say otherwise or to make evidence disappear, your knowledge will mean very little. This is the burden of proof."

Sam took the deck back from him with a scowl and started that special shuffle again. One... two... three... "Then I guess it's a good thing I can prove it," she said. Five more times she shuffled the deck and held it up. "This brand of deck is popular. I've been playing with these since I was eight. The decks are packed and shipped the same way. In the same order." She took the last part of the deck that he'd messed with before and fanned them out so he could see the proper order. "Then the next time I see them loading dynamite in the truck, I better start carrying a camera around so I can prove what I see, huh?" She raised her eyebrows. "I don't make bets I know I can't win, Jakob. I make sure I can prove it because proof is what makes or breaks people." She held out the deck to him. "Jane Doe is a case that we can prove. Will it go to trial? Probably not, but we can at least know who we have to keep an eye on if it happens again. John Doe, on the other hand, is going to be vastly more difficult and we'll probably never figure it out."

He chuckled softly, nodding proudly at Sam's words. Knowing how to prove your case in any situation was key to him, he'd built his persona on the ability to make people believe what he said whether it was true or (usually) false, and proving arguments was a central facet of that. Really, if he'd had the money for school, Jakob would've been an even better lawyer than he was a cop. "well then, shall we start to gather this proof?" he asked, "After lunch, I know of some local transients around the dump site of Jane Doe who may be useful to speak with. And somewhere in there we may even have time to look at the sites of the fires and save the fire department some overtime." Gathering his files up, Jakob slid open a desk drawer to grab his pistol, tucking it into his shoulder holster. "And remember, some bets are unwinnable even if they look otherwise. Sometimes the deck is more stacked than we might imagine."

"Well, I haven't run into one of those yet, and it's not going to stop me." Sam eyed him from behind her dark sunglasses and grabbed up Jane Doe's file. "Transients and fire damage. Sounds like a wonderful afternoon." There was some sarcasm there, but she got up with the file and grabbed her car keys. "I'll let you drive today. My head is killing me. And if we have time, we should stop by the flower shop. I need to send McKinnon's wife some flowers." She still felt bad for bailing on Danny like that, but there wasn't a lot she was able to do there.

"And how is Officer McKinnon?" Jakob asked as he stood with her, pulling his coat free from the back of his chair, "It occurs to me that I haven't checked in with him in far too long, has he spoken about trying the detective's exam again?" Jakob had promised to vouch for Danny on the exam, after all. The young patrolman was far too easy to influence, and if he had more clout in the department? So did Jakob. "And flowers for his wife? Is she unwell?"

"She got hit by a car a couple of days ago. I had to take him to the hospital." Sam paused in picking up her own jacket and looked to Jakob with a frown. "How did you not know that?" It wasn't accusing or hostile, but Sam was definitely curious as to how Jakob could not have known about what happened to Janey. "He was a wreck when I saw him last, understandably, and I had to leave him there."

Tossing his coat over his shoulders, Jakob tucked his arms into it and snagged his coffee from the desk, frowning at the contents before he looked up at Sam. "I do not strive to be involved in McKinnon's personal life, aside from the offer I'd made him before the raids took place," he explained neutrally, "For his own benefit. A personal relationship between us would do him very few favors, Sam." Really, he just had no use for the overly emotional, sometimes drunk patrolman, but as always? Jakob had an angle to play, in this case one of self-sacrifice.

Sam's frowned deepened a little bit as she studied Jakob and tried to make sense of what he said. "Well, I don't strive to be involved in his personal life either, but even if he hadn't called me to drive him to the hospital, people have been talking about it. There were a few officers on scene and apparently his wife is really well liked in the church, which many people tend to go to. I've never met her personally, but being aware of things that are going on isn't getting involved in people's personal lives, Jakob. It's listening." Not to mention there had been a short blurb, but when a cop's family was involved in something like that, cops talked.

Looking appropriately chastised, Jakob nodded in understanding before stepping away from his desk and moving to head out of the station house. He put a briskness in his step, a hint of the nervous energy from before that said now that he was eager to be away from the place and their co-workers, only slowing as fresh air greeted them outside. "I'm sorry," he said first, "And I... it is wrong of me to be so heedless to a man or his family when that man has stepped up to my requests before and helped me help this city." He paced a short circuit back and forth on the sidewalk, letting a passing breeze whip his tie around errantly and tasting the lingering char in the air from the fires. "I've been... distracted. Preoccupied. Focusing on what-if scenarios that may never be born and blinding myself to the reality around us."

She followed him down the steps and leaned against the railing as he spoke. With the slight of hand he did earlier, the lecture, combined with what was going on with Danny and how Jakob had chosen to answer had her feeling curious and a little uncomfortable. He was really taking this hard, but it just felt off, like he was saying the things he should be saying. "Jakob, it's okay, really," she said first when he was done. "You don't have to beat yourself up over it. And that sounds like maybe you need a break, Jakob. Did you even take one after your injury?" He seemed to be stressed, especially if he was admitting that he was getting distracted. But then, there was that lingering feeling she'd said to him once. You remind me of my cousin, and Samantha Giacomo did not trust her cousin Ian Sullivan and she'd hate it if the same could be said of her partner.

"No," he answered with a sharp shake of his head, scowling and glancing over each shoulder in feigned agitation. "I couldn't, there was too much to do in the wake of the serial killer's discovery. I was lead, and I had a case to make. There was, and still is, too much to risk leaving my work to someone that isn't yourself or me." Which for once was honest; Jakob had a nice little house of cards built up, and he'd built it so that he could work with Sam unfettered, even make progress with her. But someone else snooping around his reports or dealing with his contacts? It would expose him. "And it still isn't an option for me. A leave of absence might be the last thing I want right now. I just... I need time to sort it all out again, to get things organized and regain my view of the big picture."

"Jakob, you're gonna burn out so bad that when you mean to pick up the phone, you're going to shoot yourself by accident. Or we're going to get into a situation where I don't know if you're mind is on the game." And Sam was very serious about that. If Jakob's head was out of sorts, then it was dangerous. "Do something about it, Jakob. Take the weekend off. Go see a movie, go get yourself laid, I don't know. But if you're as off kilter as you're saying you are and you're acting right now? Then it needs to be taken care of."

"I don't need any of that," Jakob muttered, pleased with himself for his aggravation and how he almost actually felt it, "I don't need rest, or a woman, or time away from the cases. All I need is for you to remain the stated lead on our work until the day comes that the Echo has the new commissioner's name, and it is not mine." There was his bombshell, an admission of what he'd been seeding with whispers among the top brass and the city's social power, albeit one of reverse intent. Jakob Hollis for Commissioner, stated as if it was the very last thing he could ever want.

Jakob Hollis as commissioner. "Huh," was Sam's first answer and she crossed her arms and regarded him. Jakob as the commissioner. "Yeah, you'd be a terrible commissioner, and I say it with respect." Yeah, she just could not see it. Sure, Jakob was a good detective. He was a decorated one. But commissioner?

"Please make sure to tell the mayor as much," he replied with a bitter smirk flashing across his face, "I think with enough character witnesses I could be removed from consideration and get back to work that can actually be accomplished now and then." And while he hadn't actually spoken with the mayor (yet), Jakob had a good reach, he could make sure his name came up in discussion. Casually at first, while he weighed the potential risks against the deliciously tempting power he would step into with the job.

"Do you want me to? I can." She was sure she could finagle something like that, especially with the fact that her mother spoke with the man's wife fairly often. Maybe she would anyway. "I mean, you've said yourself, you're having a difficult time right now. Becoming commissioner wouldn't be good for you." Did Jakob really want to have the job? He could probably do it, but with the clearly agitated state and admittance that he wasn't doing well, the pressure might prove to be too much.

"No," he muttered in answer, shaking his head, "Our last commissioner was corrupt to the core. And while I and McKinnon may know you to be a straight shooter, Sam, your family history works against that idea. I think if you spoke up, someone might decide your kin had a vested interest in me. I... I cannot take that chance, or risk the idea that another faction might try manipulating me." Or let her family know what he was playing at, for that matter. Jakob hadn't seen Marcelena Tyler (nee Giacomo) in months now, and he liked it that way. "I'm sorry, I am, but I need you to avoid this situation. You're my partner, and I won't expose you to whatever troubles may come my way."

Jakob didn't need to tell Sam that her family wasn't on the straight edge. She knew. But it didn't mean that she couldn't talk to someone on behalf of him, but Jakob was pretty adamant about that. "No need to be sorry, I just want to be able to help you out, is all." Another faction try manipulate him? Did that mean that there was already someone out there doing that? "Are you having trouble with people, Jakob?" she asked carefully.

Repeating himself wasn't something Jakob usually did, but in this case it could only add to the flustered edge. "No," he said again with a shake of his head, "But there is always an angle that can be used if you want to reach someone or send them a message. If there wasn't, the house of cards our syndicates have built for themselves would have toppled years ago. I could name a few of my own without a second thought, and they are simple things, things that an organized approach would suss out with little time." And if he needed to be that organized approach? Jakob might just have to force himself to lose a few wagers at the Drake or pay a visit to his aging parents. "I just need time, Sam, time and a hope that some other poor fool will be picked for the position."

"You're my partner and I worry," Sam said with a little shrug and came down the last couple of steps. He seemed to offer more than what the question asked for when she wanted to know if he was in trouble, and Sam filed it away for consideration at a later time. "Besides, I need you sharp." She offered him a little grin. "Pick up on what I miss." Sam did care about him, any suspicions aside. He didn't treat her with disrespect, he valued her opinion and treated her like an equal. She wasn't about to let that go away. "Besides, even if you did get put up as the new commissioner, I have no idea what'll happen to me so if that does happen, I'd at least like to enjoy closing up some of our last cases with you."

"If all else failed and I found myself in that unenviable position?" Jakob mused quietly, brow creased in thought, "No matter what else, I'd make sure you got the commendation you deserve, and McKinnon his promotion as well. I'd do better knowing you two were working where I could not." He sighed softly after a moment, eyes shutting as Jakob seemed to force the stress and unease from his expression, though in truth it was as simple as giving up the game. "I wish you had no reason to worry," he eventually said, "But I am glad to know you do. It... it matters a great deal to me, Tyler. Not many others in the department would weep to see me leave, not that you would necessarily weep." A hint of a crooked smile flashed there as Jakob looked to her, shaking his head as if to dispel all of his worries at once.

"But for now, no more theoreticals. For now I owe lunch, and we have ashes to sift through and beggars to question, among other pleasantries," Jakob insisted, moving for her car where it sat at the curb. "It is good you do not date coworkers, yes? Otherwise this would be among the worst possible date."