The Consequences of Free Fall (12/23)
Title - The Consequences of Free Fall (12/23)
Rating - PG-13/ Green Cortina
Disclaimer - Not mine. Never will be. It all belongs to BBC and Kudos.
Chapter Twelve
"Cynthia?" Sam called out and heard his voice echo through the empty basement that housed forensics. "Cynthia? Come on I know you’re always here this early."
"Stalking me now?" A voice asked from behind him and Sam turned to see Cynthia behind him carrying a cup of coffee. "Didn’t expect you so early DI Tyler."
"Call me Sam," he answered. "And sorry. I couldn’t help getting here early. Don’t like having a case like this sitting cold all night. You have something for us?"
"I do," she agreed. "Actually have something of a mystery for you. Come over to my workbench." Sam followed behind silently. "Stand there," she motioned to a spot.
"Mystery?" Sam asked as he moved to follow her directions. "What sort of mystery?"
"Why was Rajeem Assad playing with tar and why did Myra Tiggs think it was important?"
"What?" Sam was perplexed.
"Ok, starting over." Cynthia started. "I started in the middle didn’t I? Sorry. I do that sometimes. So going back to the beginning. First, the car was clean. Nothing. Lifted prints off of it for Myra Tiggs but nothing else. Not even a suitcase in the boot."
"The car was clean?"
"Car was clean." Cynthia confirmed. "So before I rushed out to look the car over I was processing Myra Tiggs’ purse. Would have done it earlier but I was too busy processing the body. It took longer than I expected to get the prints."
"Don’t apologize," Sam nodded. "Rather you get it right the first time."
"Good to know," Cynthia agreed. "Anyway, I started processing the purse yesterday afternoon after our meeting. Found mostly the usual things you find in a purse. The wallet we found earlier, warrant card, two sets of keys, one set matched the Volkswagon and the other look like they belong to a flat. Tube of lipstick, hairbrush, the usual."
"And this is important how?" Sam asked cautiously.
"It’s not. Not in the slightest bit important. What’s important is this envelope," Cynthia brandished a white legal envelope in front of him. "She slit the lining on the inside of the purse and this was in the bottom, sitting flush so that you couldn’t see it. I wouldn’t have noticed it but I was poking around in the bottom of the bag with tweezers looking for fibers. Put on gloves."
Sam nodded and followed her orders, sliding on a double pair of surgical gloves. "Very good Inspector," she nodded. "Someone trained you well."
"You wouldn’t believe me if I told you," Sam smirked. "But back to the envelope."
"Back to the envelope." Cynthia agreed. "The envelope itself isn’t that interesting. The only prints on it are a preliminary match to Myra Tiggs. So once I’d processed it I opened it up and that’s when things got interesting. Six separate pieces of paper. One’s a work schedule for a restaurant called the Maharajahs Retreat. Another is some personal correspondence. Random pieces of a business proposal, jotted notes about errands. Nothing that I can see that links them."
"Nothing?" Sam asked.
"Nothing except these," Cynthia motioned to black smudges on each piece of paper. The business proposal," she pulled out a piece of evidence and placed it on the top. "It has Rajeem Assad’s fingerprint in the black smudge. It’s a clear print so no worries identifying it there. Once we’ve determined the substance and what it’s purpose is I’ll forward it to Scotland Yard for confirmation."
"What is it?" Sam asked curiously.
"I took a scraping from each," Cynthia nodded. "You can see the slides under the microscope if you wish but they’re all the same."
"What is it?"
"Black tar with flecks of brown powder embedded in it. I’d like you to arrange DCI Hunt’s permission for me to document a piece of evidence and then allow a pharmacist to test it to confirm what it is."
Sam glanced down at the sample in the microscope and squinted at it. Black, sticky residual tar with brown flecks inside of it. "It’s black tar heroin," Sam looked over at her.
"My assumption is from looking at it that it’s an extremely high grade, notice the flecks still have black inside them. Minor processing before it was shipped."
"So how did Rajeem Assad get black tar heroin on his fingers? You don’t think he’s handling it himself do you?"
"Could be, keeps the organization small it’s harder to infiltrate it with undercover officers." Cynthia suggested. "I think I might know how they’re transporting it as well."
"How?"
"Hardened bricks. Some of the papers aren’t sticky, they’re powdery. Like hardened tar that’s flaking. Wherever they’re originating they’re being baked into bricks and then shipped in, possibly legally as regular old tar base. Sold in bricks to be remelted upon arrival."
"Except," Sam looked at her and smiled. "You want to keep the black tar in place on the heroin. Then you only warm it enough to soften the tar, shape it into rocks and then wrap it up in packets and sell it on the street."
"That’s my assumption yes," she agreed. "Of course I can’t say conclusively about anything until DCI Hunt allows me to test the residue for heroin."
"Cynthia you are a genius!" Sam pulled her into a tight hug and rocked back and forth. "You are an absolute genius." He reached out and grabbed the sides of her face, kissing both of her cheeks soundly. "If there was a saint of kick arse science chicks she would be named Cynthia."
"Thank you DI Tyler." She blushed. "Glad to know it was the information you needed."
"Don’t be modest Cynthia!" Sam crowed again in delight. "You are a genius. You’ve cracked this and now Rajeem Assad’s going to jail. If I was," Sam stopped. "If you weren’t married I’d be in love with you."
"Um ok DI Tyler," she nodded. "I’ll keep that in mind."
"Tyler quit flirting with the bird before she stabs you." The Guv announced angrily. "You’re acting like a loony tart."
"Is he always like this?" Cynthia asked the Guv.
"Touchy feely, hyperactive and overly engrossed in science and detail?"
"Emoting on people." She answered.
"Frequently. A right little emotional bit of baggage our DI Tyler." The Guv agreed as he reached out and grabbed Sam by the collar and jerked him slightly backwards. "Want to press charges on him for it?"
"Nah," she shrugged. "He’s just pleased that we might have an angle on Rajeem Assad."
"What’s that?" The Guv asked.
"Tar," Sam bounced excitedly.
"Tar?"
"Tar," Sam confirmed. "He’s shipping preprocessed heroin into Manchester inside bricks of hardened tar."
"Why tar?" The Guv asked. "Hard to get that up a needle ain’t it?"
"Not going up a needle," Sam answered. "Tar makes it smoke able."
"Smoking it?"
"Break it up into rocks," Cynthia broke in. "Put it into a pipe, light the rock, inhale the fumes like you would tobacco. Tar works the same with the heroin as it does with your fags."
"What are you talking about woman? Me smokes don’t have road tar in them."
"Yeah they do," she shrugged. "Put tar in with the tobacco to hold it together. The tar is flammable and when you inhale the smoke the tar is the transmission device for the tobacco to your lungs. Gets trapped there and makes your lungs a mess as well. Same idea with the heroin. Can market it to the squeamish that way."
"The squeamish?"
"Don’t have to stick yourself with a needle to get high," Sam answered. "Easier to get high on the go as well. Can’t take a syringe with you everywhere might get stuck, needle might break. Easy to slip a pipe in your pocket though, no one notices."
"So you two are saying the plonk had Assad?" Guv asked. "She had the evidence to bring him in?"
"Hidden in the bottom of her purse," Cynthia nodded. "I’ll contact RCS and tell them as soon as we’ve finished."
"Don’t," Gene wagged a finger at her. "Don’t tell Litton anything. You are only to report to me or DI Tyler on this, understand?"
"This is RCS’s case DCI Hunt," Sam could see the gleam of mischief in her eyes. "Shouldn’t I report this to DCI Litton?"
"Myra Tiggs murder is more important," Guv answered. "We need to explore the possibilities that this evidence is what got her killed and if we bring Litton in it’ll just slow us down in finding a fellow officer’s killer."
"So I should play dumb with DCI Litton and stall him on the evidence if he comes looking?" Her smile was almost as broad as Gene’s then.
"Good girl," Guv replied as he tugged Sam toward the door. "We’ll send Skelton down with the fiancee’s prints as soon as we have them."
"I’ll be waiting DCI Hunt."
"Call me Guv, Cindyloo." The Guv replied as they reached the door. Sam turned to gape at the two of them. Cindyloo? She was going to, Sam stopped. He’d heard a Superintendent once refer to her as -
"You know Cindyloo Who," the Guv smirked. "Gladys here is right about one thing."
"What’s that?"
"If there was a saint of kick arse girl science geeks it’d be you Saint Cindyloo."
Sam felt his jaw drop. No, no, no, no. Couldn’t be. When he’d first been starting on the force he’d heard a Superintendent refer to Chief Forensic Investigator Cynthia Baxter as Saint Cindyloo Who. She’d just laughed and told him that being a Superintendent didn’t earn him the right to use that nickname. Only the very best got to call her anything besides Dr. Baxter.