visiting the crime scene

who: jason and danny
where: dodge’s apartment
when: very early hours of the morning

After finishing a surprisingly palatable meal with Maddy, Jason had headed to the Round for a few drinks, the dive bar having grown on him the past few times he’d been there. He might’ve have stuck around longer had Eris been at the bar but the older woman was no where to be found that night so he’d soon headed home. Once he was out of the Sprawl and looking for a cab back to the hotel, he’d stuffed his hands in his coat pockets only to find the letter from Dodge he’d forgotten about - Maddy must’ve put it there so he wouldn’t leave it behind. He noticed the weight of it this time and, curiosity getting the better of him, tore open the envelope and tipped it up sending a key tumbling out on to his palm. He just had time to recognise it as a safety deposit box key when a cab turned the corner and he flagged it down, the key going back into his pocket. It was only when he was in the the cab and it was moving off that his attention turned to the letter that had been with it.

There wasn’t a whole lot of light in the cab, only what filtered in through the windows from the street lamps overhead but it was enough to read the short note by. And re-read it, the words having an uncomfortable air of finality to them that left him feeling like ice water had been dumped over his head. Calling through to the driver with his old address, he ignored the grumbles of complaint from the old man as the cab was swung around, his grip on the top of his cane tightening as they sped towards the apartment building where he used to live, trying not to think about what he might find there.

The cop car sat outside the building did nothing to waylay his fears as they arrived and he didn’t even look at what he paid the driver, just pushing some bills into the guy’s hand in his hurry to get up to the apartment and find out just what the hell was going on. The doorman was being interviewed by a uniform so it was easy enough for Jason to get in unnoticed, though technically he was still a resident so his presence in the building was hardly likely to arouse suspicion. Nobody was usually up at this hour but as the elevator opened on his floor, there were people stood out in the hall talking, people who fell quiet when they saw him. He’d always got on well with the neighbours so when they avoided his eye, he realised things must’ve been even worse than he thought. Only the man who lived next door, a bachelor in his sixties who Jason had swapped stories with was able to look him in the eye and speak to him. “Jason, you don’t want to go in there son,” the old man said, eyes bright and hands shaking slightly. “What happened Mr Anderson?” he asked, his voice urgent and tense, sounding nothing like his usual charming self. “I need to know.”

“Men with guns Jason. Guns, here,” the man replied, voice shaking. “A couple of hours ago, they came, shooting up the place. Police said...Police said there were no survivors.” It took a moment for the words to sink in then Jason went completely white and laid his hand on the wall feeling like he was about to pass out. He vaguely heard Mr Anderson something that sounded like an apology but he wasn’t really listening anymore; instead he’d turned and was making his way to the apartment, needing to see the damage for himself. Amazingly there was no-one guarding the door when he got there so he was able to get in, unsure of how exactly he was still walking but some how still doing so until he found himself in the ruins of his old home. Bullet holes pocked the walls, furniture was trashed and there was blood, so much blood. His eyes didn’t linger on any of them though, instead going to the dining table where, on the floor beside it, was an abandoned fedora and that’s when his legs gave out from beneath him.

Danny was on the scene, having come back after the bodies were taking to walk through it again, try and get an idea as to why some rich guy had gotten shot. At least, at first he had. It hadn’t taken long for someone at the station to pick out the names, do the math and figure that the kid who’d gone by ‘Dodge’ on the streets had somehow wormed his way into polite society. Very polite if the digs were proof of anything. The same was true of the other bodies, once Dodge was identified. They were familiar to the older cops, the large one having to be Dodge’s right hand man, the smaller blond the trouble maker who followed him around. It all made more and more sense as the pieces came together.

Except the who shot the hell out of him part. That was still up in the air.

When the door opened Danny expected it to be one of the uniforms, there with some message or information and instead he got some well dress shmuck with a cane, looking ghost white as trampled all over Danny’s crime scene. “Hey, hey you can’t be in here.” Nothing about Danny was friendly or gentle even as the guy fell to the floor. Maybe he was a friend, a boyfriend something, but Danny didn’t need him there.

If Jason heard him, he made no move to suggest it. Instead his eyes stayed transfixed on that hat; the symbol of everything Dodge was but without the man itself just a hat, cast aside and left there seemingly to mock him. “What the fuck did you do Dodge?” he said, voice barely above a whisper but still cracking as he tried to say his friend’s name, the anger and hurt of the past couple of weeks temporarily washed away by a tidal wave of grief.

“Looks like he got himself dead,” Danny said, again not in a bedside manor of any sort. He gave the man a moment to get up to move and pass on but when he didn’t he wound up moving that way, grabbing the man’s arm, starting to pull him up off the ground. “Out.”

Ripping his arm free with more force than he may have meant too, Jason turned to look at the other man who, smart money dictated, was probably a cop with a righteous anger building behind his eyes. “I live here, you get out,” he snarled, something he was bound to regret later but right now all he wanted was to be alone.

“You...you don’t live here.” That had Danny looking around. They had four bodies, three rooms. He’d assumed the residents were all dead. “Who are you?” he asked then grabbed his arm again and then nodding him out of the door. “Now out.”

Technically he didn’t, not anymore anyway, but his name was on the lease and he refused to let this guy order him around like that. “Yes I do. My name’s Jason Finn and that’s my bedroom in there,” he said pointing to one of the doors. “Ask Mr Anderson, ask Fred downstairs he’ll tell you. Now get off me!” He pushed the man away again and struggled back to his feet, not fancying his chances on the floor if things turned physical.

“Fine enough,” Danny said getting tougher and starting Jason back towards the door. “Your room is the one with the bullet holes through it.” He wasn’t gentle about it, starting back out into the hallway. “Tell me what happened in there. Now.”

Stumbling as he was forced back, Jason was forced to concentrate on not falling to the ground so he couldn’t even put up a fight though he was sorely tempted to punch the cop in the face once they were in the hallway. “I wish I knew!” he exploded back at the demand for information, exasperation clear on his face. “We had a fight a week or so back, I’ve been staying with my girlfriend. Today I get this letter from him that rings all kind of alarm bells so I headed straight here to find this!”

Danny looked at the man standing there, taking him in for a moment. “You said he sent you a note?” he asked hand out for the note.

“I said he sent one, I didn’t say I had it with me,” Jason shot back, not prepared to hand over the letter to the cops. It might not have said anything particularly incriminating but he didn’t want to take that risk.

Danny gave Jason a look puling his hand away. “Your friend died here. Would you like to know the details? I can tell you how they looked when we got here. That what you see there is the tame version. If I’m going to find out who did this to him, I need your help.”

Leaning against the wall, Jason dropped his head and ran his hands through his hair. “I’d gathered that much Officer,” he said, somehow manging to sound both exhausted and incredibly pissed off. “So yes, tell me the details ‘cause I really doubt it’s any worse than what I imagining happened. If I can help in some way I will but I doubt it’ll do much good given the way things are in this poxy city.”

“Watch your tone,” Danny warned but still pulled out his notes. “All four had gunshot wounds. Two were shot then likely beaten until they died given the way they looked. One, the largest, had his throat slit, which seems to be the fatal of his injuries. The last had one shot to the chest and one to the head.” He looked at Jason and waited. “Who wanted your roommates dead?”

The largest had to be Thomas, if Dodge knew trouble was coming there was no way the big man would have left his side. There was no way to be sure who the other two without seeing their faces but they would’ve been from the crew, friends of his. The one killed last, shot execution style, would’ve been Dodge he was sure of it and he felt his dinner churning uncomfortably in his stomach and begin to rise up his throat but he forced it back down, not wanting to throw up in front of Danny but there was no disguising the grin tinge that coloured his cheeks. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, which wasn’t really a lie. The best guess was that it was a mob hit, like Eris had predicted they had finally got wind of the operation and decided to shut him down but he couldn’t say for certain.

That it made him sick was one thing, it cleared up a few questions but he wound up nodding. “Alright you don’t know. Go back to your girlfriend’s and get out of my crime scene. And don’t leave town. You’re likely a suspect.”

Resisting the urge to snort at the notion of him being a suspect, Jason pushed himself back to standing and met Danny’s eyes. “I want my friend’s hat,” he said quietly, as polite as he could manage while making it clear he didn’t plan to leave without it.

The hat. That was an odd request, but Danny leveled his gaze on Jason for a moment before nodding. “Alright...” he said, not one usually grant favors, but this guy was family of some sort and they had no use for the discarded hat. “Stay.” The order was short and that, an order, before Danny went back into the apartment. There was a fedora there, the only hat he’d seen. Picking it up he studied it, nice hat, fitting for the apartment, though it was blood stained from where the kill shot had caused its previous owner to bleed on it. Danny ran his hand along the brim, the inside, finding though there to make it evidence that he was giving up.

Stepping outside of the apartment he handed the hat over. “What makes it so special?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Jason said, frowning slightly on seeing the blood stain but accepting it gratefully all the same. “Thank you though,” he said, holding out his hand - the cop hadn’t exactly been pleasant to deal with but he had done this and so gone up a little in Jason’s estimation.

Danny scowled, making a face before reaching into his suit jacket and finding a card with his desk number on it. “Here, call me if you think of something.” Even taking Jason’s hand wasn’t entirely on his list of things to do, he shook the man’s hand anyway. “Sorry for your loss. You can...claim the bodies at the morgue. Though help with identification might be necessary as well.”

The card was accepted wordlessly and tucked into his pocket next to the letter that had brought him here, the handshake done in the same way. The prospect of going to the morgue wasn’t a pleasant one but he would do it, he owed his fallen friends that much in the very least. “I’ll head over there in the morning,” he replied, turning away from Danny and slowly making his way down the hall, the fedora cradled gently against his chest.