(Untitled)

[det_montoya]

The heat of hell can't compare to the torture that is Gotham City in mid-July. Montoya spent most of the day traversing from one university building to the next, finding and questioning various professors of tenure and long time staffers. She searched the available records, checked on any odd disappearances of old, and stopped in to see the

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[last_joke_x]

"Nom 'uch 'icken left." Comes the garbled speach from Renee's kitchen. The sigle small light of her fridge giving a dawning of who is causing a mess in said room.

Swallowing down a bite of chicken down as quickly as he can, Red gives a two fingered wave to the good detective. "'Scuse me. I said you don't have much chicken left."

[det_montoya]

Clad in a T-shirt and shorts, she stares at her unlikely visitor from the bedroom doorway. "Jesus," she mutters with a heavy sigh. The look on her face yells... why me?

[last_joke_x]

"Couldn't exactly leave a message or anythin'." He sniffs at the chicken leg he just bit into, then makes a face. Tossing the leg into the trash he roots around some more and comes out with a bottle of water. "How old is this chicken anywho?"

[det_montoya]

What does this look like? A Goddamn supermarket?

The last thing she wants to do is frighten Dee. She closes the bedroom door behind her and pads across the carpet with bare feet. "Wake her up and I'll shove that chicken leg down your throat."

[last_joke_x]

He places his index finger up and opens his mouth to speak, but then better judgement overcomes his idea. Though once more he wishes to have this thought come outloud to be heard by the detective, and he does close his mouth once more. Finally he speaks. "And normally I have to pay for that on a friday night."

After chugging down some water, Red raises a brow in wonder to look around the apartment then to Renee. "Is this a bad time?"

[det_montoya]

She rubs a hand over her face. Even with the AC going full blast, it's uncomfortably hot. Eventually, she climbs up onto a bar stool and looks across the island at him. "Good a time as any."

She absentmindedly scratches at her collar. Underneath is a scar she shares with no one. While you're raiding my refrigerator... "Grab me one of those."

[last_joke_x]

"Good. Cause I was thinking ya'd be all pissy and what not with my droppin' in."

"So what's the deal partner? Ya get anythin' worth knowin' or ya at a brickwall?" He says while tossing a bottle in her direction. Taking another sip of the bottle, he sits up on the kitchen counter.

[det_montoya]

The sarcasm earns him a hard edged glare. The expression fades as she snags the flying water bottle out of the air. The cap is immediately off and half the content is gone.

"ME's report came back." She doesn't mention her in depth discussion with Nora Fields. "We're lookin' at a mixed batch. Some homicides. Some suicides."

[last_joke_x]

"Homicides and suicides?" His face slightly contorts in both confusion and thought. "Sounds like a cleaner. But not sure why so many people..." And just like that another question is raised. "What's the count? And average ages and sexes?"

[det_montoya]

"Twenty-four total. Five male. Ages across the board." She downs the rest of the water and sets the empty plastic aside. The Gotham heat is sucking the life out of her.

[last_joke_x]

"Mostly female. Though the suicide kinda kicks out the idea of a pattern killer. It all almost seems business-like y'know?"

Rubbing his chin, Red places his arms on his legs. "Y'get any news on this undertaker buba?"

[det_montoya]

She nods warily and runs a hand over her face. It does seem very business like. The crime is cold. Calculated. Not done in the heat of the moment.

"Tomorrow. Books said he saw him on the news. Trial coverage." She'll spent her next waking hours chasing a likeness, hoping to put a name to their mutual problem. "You?"

[last_joke_x]

"I shook down a few here and there but haven't really got anythin' strong. Thinkin' of payin' a visit to a lawyer that may know something or another."

[det_montoya]

She thinks about wishing him luck, thinks again, and says nothing. "What lawyer?"

[last_joke_x]

"Uhm. Lawyer? More then likely I just play stupid for now. Y'know. Rather not have you spoil a surprise an all that."

[det_montoya]

"Day the bodies were brought in, ME got a phone call from Cohen of Everson, Cohen, and Malloy makin' inquiries. Fat bastard then denied it."

If her "partner" decides to "speak with him" again, she'd rather not know.