FIC: White Shroud (4/20) T
Title: White Shroud, Chapter 4
Author: Zelda Ophelia (zeldaophelia)
Fandom/Character: CSI:NY; Stella, Angell, Flack
General info: Not mine; T.
Content: Later chapters include discussion of sexual violence.
Notes:Written for the csi_bigbang challenge. Big thanks to E for the beta. This fic can be considered a sequel to Titania Falling
Summary: When the flu bug hits the NYPD, the detectives and CSIs work to cover the caseload. Angell, Stella, and Lindsay confront the mystery behind a body in Union Square Park. Meanwhile, Flack, Mac, and Hawkes try to determine what happened at a Rangers game and Danny deals with a case of karma. Previous parts here.
"Okay, Scagnetti, what was important enough to call me off a body at the Rangers game?"
"Hey," Scagnetti said with a grin, "if you don't want to be here, you could have left the Doc instead."
"What? You think I can't handle the case?" Danny grinned as Scagnetti rolled his eyes. "So, what's with our dead guy?"
"That would be Dirk Oswald. Apparently he decided he wanted to see if he could pull off the 'murse' style. Only it wasn't his to begin with." The detective motioned to a large SUV parked near the scene, a man standing next to it who looked decidedly shaken. "Then he decided to try to play chicken with an SUV. You can see who won."
"Murse?"
"You know, 'man purse'? Hey, that's what my son tells me they're called," Scagnetti said with a shrug as he motioned to the DB, who lay sprawled across the sidewalk, his body twisted into an unnatural position by the impact. Next to him lay a bright yellow purse with a broken strap, its contents scattered across the cement. Several people stood around the crime scene, some just gawking, but others speaking with the uniform about what happened. "Like I said, it wasn't his."
"Who does it belong to?" Danny asked as he set his kit down.
Scagnetti motioned to a young woman over to the side of the scene. "That would be Miss Cynthia Carland. She says he came up from behind her, grabbed the purse, and ran."
"Right out in front of that Suburban?" Danny asked incredulously, shaking his head. He knew most criminals were pretty stupid - and purse snatchers were definitely scraping the bottom of the barrel - but they usually knew to look both ways.
"Well," Scagnetti hedged as he glanced down at his notes. He flipped through a few pages, then said, "We've got a lot of conflicting statements. According to one witness, he tripped and fell into the street. According to another, he jumped out purposefully trying to flag someone down. Another swears it was the hand of God extracting justice for what he had done."
"The hand of God?"
"Yeah. And then there's our knight in shining armor." Scagnetti motioned over his shoulder at a young man standing near Cynthia Carland. "Dillon Lynch. New to the city, just moved here from Nebraska for grad school at Columbia. Says he heard a complete stranger yelling that someone had stolen her purse and he tried to help. He figured any guy running with a purse in the vicinity of a woman screaming that her purse had been stolen was probably the culprit - reasonable assumption. So, he said, he grabbed for it and tried to get it back. He tugged, Oswald tugged, the strap snapped-"
"And Oswald goes flying back into the traffic behind him," Danny said, finishing the statement. "Physics."
"You aren't going to start quoting all those laws by Newton and Einstein to me, are you?"
"Nah. It's just that in this case, with both of them pulling on the purse strap they were canceling each other out. The strap breaks, which would be the same as if Lynch had let go. Suddenly Oswald isn't pulling against a reciprocal force - it's just him pulling. The momentum propels him out in front of a vehicle."
"That the driver can't stop in time to avoid hitting him, sending him flying back onto the sidewalk."
"Boom. SUV wins," Danny said, looking back over at the vehicle. It had minimal damage, but that wasn't unexpected, really. The human body was surprisingly fragile, and those machines were very sturdy. "Okay, so we know what everyone saw happen. Now to find out if that is what happened."
He grabbed his camera to start taking pictures, so the ME's assistants could remove the body. Then he'd see what the evidence told him about the incident.
::
Stella had just reached the autopsy room doors when Angell stepped off of the elevator, cell phone in hand. "You got the page also?"
Angell nodded. "I was expecting it to take longer with so many people out sick. Maybe we caught him at a lull."
"I'm sure we're about to find out," Stella said as she pushed the doors open.
Much to their surprise, the room was bustling with activity. There were several bodies laid out on the tables, and it looked like Dr. Zhao, who Stella was fairly certain had transferred to the night shift, was in as well. The person who had paged them, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.
"Sid?"
Dr. Hammerback peered out from where he stood around the corner in one of the side rooms. "Ah, Stella, Detective Angell. Very good."
He came out, holding something in his hands that Angell really hoped she didn't recognize. He seemed to remember what he was carrying, flagging down one of his assistants and handing it off to them. "Sorry," he said as he pulled his used gloves off and replaced them with a new pair. "There was a near mishap with Mr. Stevens' brain. Don't worry, it wasn't for a case; he mostly likely died of natural causes, but the family asked for an autopsy. We have an intern in today, so I decided to let him get a little supervised experience cutting. Unfortunately, I don't think his stomach is cut out for this..."
Angell glanced over at Stella, secretly relieved to see she wasn't the only one probably a little too amused by the story. And if anyone asked, she was blaming it on the lack of sleep. It was supposed to be her day off, and if only half the precinct hadn't called in sick, it shouldn't have mattered what time she'd finally gotten home last night. Instead, she'd only managed four hours of sleep before the Lieutenant unexpectedly called her to come in.
"I take it you haven't been hit quite as hard by the flu down here."
"Not as hard as other divisions," he said, nodding. "We've got a few people out, so I asked Evan to come in. But that was mainly because we seem to have been hit harder than usual today in other ways. If I didn't know better, I'd say that the criminal element got the memo that the flu has half of the NYPD out sick. It seems they're all out killing one another today. You know, it reminds me of back in my resident days-"
"Sid," Stella interrupted, "no offense, but the lab is one of those areas hit hard. I've got to hurry so I can head back up to help Lindsay with the evidence."
"Of course," he said, folding the sheet covering Tripp Norton back as he started explaining his findings. "As I'm sure you noticed at the scene, this young man was definitely in a fight. I'd say it took place just before he died. He has significant bruising, not just on his face, but also on his arms and torso. They haven't developed much on the surface--not enough time for the blood to flow outward."
"So he was beaten to death?" Angell asked, pulling her notebook out to jot down what he was telling them.
"I don't believe so. While he would have been hurting, none of his injuries from the beating would have been enough to kill him."
"Hurting?" Stella looked up from the body. "How badly was he beaten?"
"Broken nose, couple of cracked ribs, and he took at least one hit that bruised his kidneys. It would have been excruciatingly painful, but not deadly."
"Then what did kill him?"
Sid shook his head. "I'm not entirely certain, I believe it's up to you to find that out." He lifted a sealed glass jar filled with a mostly clear liquid and handed it over to Stella. "His stomach contents. It would appear that he was partaking in a mostly liquid diet prior to his death."
"That would make sense--he was dressed like he had been out partying."
"Most likely. I've also sent blood and urine to toxicology, so perhaps they'll be able to tell you more. And his fingernail scrapings are on their way to DNA; it looks like he got a hit or two of his own off."
"Thanks, Sid," Stella said as she took the jar gingerly, holding it between her thumb and forefinger.
"Oh, and there's these." He pulled a brown bag from one of the lower shelves of the cart by the autopsy table. "Your victim's clothing. And something else." He opened the bag and removed a small, clear evidence bag containing an even smaller white plastic container. "I found this when we were undressing him. It was down his pants. There's a tiny amount of liquid inside."
"Down his pants?" Angell asked, trying her hardest not to laugh as she took the bag for Stella.
"Yes, well, young men do on occasion do the strangest things," Sid said. "And I say that having once been a young man myself."
"You, Sid? Never." Stella grinned at him as she and Angell left, stepping out into the hallway to head back to the elevator. As soon as the autopsy doors closed behind them, they both began to snicker.
"Down his pants?" Angell asked. "Guys may do strange things, but that's a new one."
"You're a guy, you've been attacked or possibly just followed, and are concerned you may be attacked. What do you do if you're carrying something you don't want them to find?"
"Stick it down your pants," Angell said as the elevator dinged its arrival and the doors opened before them. They stepped on together, Stella hitting the button for the lab. "They might check your pockets, but they probably aren't going to strip-search you."
"Exactly." Stella glanced over at her and the bag she was carrying. "We're going to need to test that liquid. If he was trying to hide it, then it might have something to do with his death."
::
Mac parked the SUV in the parking garage, joining Hawkes at the back to unload the evidence. An unmarked car pulled in behind them, which they both regarded cautiously - you could never be too careful these days, especially when evidence was involved - until Danny stepped out.
"Great timing, Danny," Mac said as he lifted one of the crates of evidence bags. "How was the scene?"
"Boring," was Danny's response as he pulled his kit and evidence bags from the trunk of Scagnetti's car. "We're talking about a serious case of karma. The guy was a purse-snatcher who died snatching purses."
"Karma doesn't mean justice, Danny," Mac reminded him.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Even if the guy deserved it, doesn't mean he deserved it." Danny shook his head as they walked over to the elevator. "But that doesn't mean this was murder. If the evidence holds up what the witnesses say, then it really was karma. If he hadn't grabbed that purse, he wouldn't have died." Shrugging, he changed the subject. "How about those Rangers? How's Flack dealing?"
"Flack?" Hawkes asked, looking at Danny incredulously. "He seemed fine at the scene. Why wouldn't he be?"
"The body was in the locker room, right? It was one of the team? Flack's practically the NYPD's biggest Rangers fan. I'd be surprised if he wasn't falling apart."
"It wasn't a member of the team," Hawkes said. "Yet, at least."
"Wait-" Danny hit the up button and turned to the other two as they waited for the car. "Not a Ranger yet? You don't mean that draft pick, Elliot-something?"
"Jarrett Elliot? Yes, it was him," Mac said as the car arrived with a ding. As they started moving up to the lab's floor they could hear the elevator next to them moving as well. "You've heard of him?"
"Heard of him? Yeah." Danny shook his head. "It was going to be a pretty big thing, him joining the Rangers. They were making a big deal out of it, at least. Everyone who followed the team knew he was going to be at the game--it was announced during the coach's previous post-game interview."
"So anyone with motive knew where to find him."
Hawkes frowned, thinking about that, as the doors opened before them. "That's just going to make our work more difficult. There's no good way to narrow down who knew where to find him."
"Just everyone watching that game," Mac said. The doors to the other elevator opened, revealing Stella and Detective Angell, who joined them on their way into the lab.
"Hey guys," Stella said, "Just getting back?"
"It's crazy out there, Stell," Danny responded with a grin. "Not enough of us to go around."
"How was the park?" Hawkes asked as he stepped closer, trying to get a look at the jar she was carrying.
"Cold," Angell replied, shifting the evidence bag she carried under her arm, "and snowy."
"Your vic?"
"Under all that snow," Stella said with a sigh, "which means our evidence is either damp from the melting snow or still out there underneath it. Yours?"
"Hit by an SUV," Danny said as he opened the glass door to the lab.
"In a locker room?" Stella asked in confusion.
"Another call came after we left," Hawkes explained as he followed Danny in, "we dropped him off en route."
"Fun. Hey, Stella, you want me to drop this off with Monroe?” Angell asked, about to follow the CSIs into the lab. “She wanted me to pick up copies of the crime scene and victim photos while I was over here."
"Sure," Stella said, handing over what she carried and staying with Mac out in the hallway. "And your case?"
"Jarrett Elliot, a rising star in the hockey world. Someone didn't want him to make it to the majors."
"Hmm." Her eyes narrowed when she saw his amused look. "What?"
"I was beginning to think I was the only one who'd never heard of him."
She shook her head with a laugh. "I don't follow hockey, Mac."
"Neither do I."
Previous || Master Post || Next
Author: Zelda Ophelia (zeldaophelia)
Fandom/Character: CSI:NY; Stella, Angell, Flack
General info: Not mine; T.
Content: Later chapters include discussion of sexual violence.
Notes:Written for the csi_bigbang challenge. Big thanks to E for the beta. This fic can be considered a sequel to Titania Falling
Summary: When the flu bug hits the NYPD, the detectives and CSIs work to cover the caseload. Angell, Stella, and Lindsay confront the mystery behind a body in Union Square Park. Meanwhile, Flack, Mac, and Hawkes try to determine what happened at a Rangers game and Danny deals with a case of karma. Previous parts here.
"Okay, Scagnetti, what was important enough to call me off a body at the Rangers game?"
"Hey," Scagnetti said with a grin, "if you don't want to be here, you could have left the Doc instead."
"What? You think I can't handle the case?" Danny grinned as Scagnetti rolled his eyes. "So, what's with our dead guy?"
"That would be Dirk Oswald. Apparently he decided he wanted to see if he could pull off the 'murse' style. Only it wasn't his to begin with." The detective motioned to a large SUV parked near the scene, a man standing next to it who looked decidedly shaken. "Then he decided to try to play chicken with an SUV. You can see who won."
"Murse?"
"You know, 'man purse'? Hey, that's what my son tells me they're called," Scagnetti said with a shrug as he motioned to the DB, who lay sprawled across the sidewalk, his body twisted into an unnatural position by the impact. Next to him lay a bright yellow purse with a broken strap, its contents scattered across the cement. Several people stood around the crime scene, some just gawking, but others speaking with the uniform about what happened. "Like I said, it wasn't his."
"Who does it belong to?" Danny asked as he set his kit down.
Scagnetti motioned to a young woman over to the side of the scene. "That would be Miss Cynthia Carland. She says he came up from behind her, grabbed the purse, and ran."
"Right out in front of that Suburban?" Danny asked incredulously, shaking his head. He knew most criminals were pretty stupid - and purse snatchers were definitely scraping the bottom of the barrel - but they usually knew to look both ways.
"Well," Scagnetti hedged as he glanced down at his notes. He flipped through a few pages, then said, "We've got a lot of conflicting statements. According to one witness, he tripped and fell into the street. According to another, he jumped out purposefully trying to flag someone down. Another swears it was the hand of God extracting justice for what he had done."
"The hand of God?"
"Yeah. And then there's our knight in shining armor." Scagnetti motioned over his shoulder at a young man standing near Cynthia Carland. "Dillon Lynch. New to the city, just moved here from Nebraska for grad school at Columbia. Says he heard a complete stranger yelling that someone had stolen her purse and he tried to help. He figured any guy running with a purse in the vicinity of a woman screaming that her purse had been stolen was probably the culprit - reasonable assumption. So, he said, he grabbed for it and tried to get it back. He tugged, Oswald tugged, the strap snapped-"
"And Oswald goes flying back into the traffic behind him," Danny said, finishing the statement. "Physics."
"You aren't going to start quoting all those laws by Newton and Einstein to me, are you?"
"Nah. It's just that in this case, with both of them pulling on the purse strap they were canceling each other out. The strap breaks, which would be the same as if Lynch had let go. Suddenly Oswald isn't pulling against a reciprocal force - it's just him pulling. The momentum propels him out in front of a vehicle."
"That the driver can't stop in time to avoid hitting him, sending him flying back onto the sidewalk."
"Boom. SUV wins," Danny said, looking back over at the vehicle. It had minimal damage, but that wasn't unexpected, really. The human body was surprisingly fragile, and those machines were very sturdy. "Okay, so we know what everyone saw happen. Now to find out if that is what happened."
He grabbed his camera to start taking pictures, so the ME's assistants could remove the body. Then he'd see what the evidence told him about the incident.
::
Stella had just reached the autopsy room doors when Angell stepped off of the elevator, cell phone in hand. "You got the page also?"
Angell nodded. "I was expecting it to take longer with so many people out sick. Maybe we caught him at a lull."
"I'm sure we're about to find out," Stella said as she pushed the doors open.
Much to their surprise, the room was bustling with activity. There were several bodies laid out on the tables, and it looked like Dr. Zhao, who Stella was fairly certain had transferred to the night shift, was in as well. The person who had paged them, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen.
"Sid?"
Dr. Hammerback peered out from where he stood around the corner in one of the side rooms. "Ah, Stella, Detective Angell. Very good."
He came out, holding something in his hands that Angell really hoped she didn't recognize. He seemed to remember what he was carrying, flagging down one of his assistants and handing it off to them. "Sorry," he said as he pulled his used gloves off and replaced them with a new pair. "There was a near mishap with Mr. Stevens' brain. Don't worry, it wasn't for a case; he mostly likely died of natural causes, but the family asked for an autopsy. We have an intern in today, so I decided to let him get a little supervised experience cutting. Unfortunately, I don't think his stomach is cut out for this..."
Angell glanced over at Stella, secretly relieved to see she wasn't the only one probably a little too amused by the story. And if anyone asked, she was blaming it on the lack of sleep. It was supposed to be her day off, and if only half the precinct hadn't called in sick, it shouldn't have mattered what time she'd finally gotten home last night. Instead, she'd only managed four hours of sleep before the Lieutenant unexpectedly called her to come in.
"I take it you haven't been hit quite as hard by the flu down here."
"Not as hard as other divisions," he said, nodding. "We've got a few people out, so I asked Evan to come in. But that was mainly because we seem to have been hit harder than usual today in other ways. If I didn't know better, I'd say that the criminal element got the memo that the flu has half of the NYPD out sick. It seems they're all out killing one another today. You know, it reminds me of back in my resident days-"
"Sid," Stella interrupted, "no offense, but the lab is one of those areas hit hard. I've got to hurry so I can head back up to help Lindsay with the evidence."
"Of course," he said, folding the sheet covering Tripp Norton back as he started explaining his findings. "As I'm sure you noticed at the scene, this young man was definitely in a fight. I'd say it took place just before he died. He has significant bruising, not just on his face, but also on his arms and torso. They haven't developed much on the surface--not enough time for the blood to flow outward."
"So he was beaten to death?" Angell asked, pulling her notebook out to jot down what he was telling them.
"I don't believe so. While he would have been hurting, none of his injuries from the beating would have been enough to kill him."
"Hurting?" Stella looked up from the body. "How badly was he beaten?"
"Broken nose, couple of cracked ribs, and he took at least one hit that bruised his kidneys. It would have been excruciatingly painful, but not deadly."
"Then what did kill him?"
Sid shook his head. "I'm not entirely certain, I believe it's up to you to find that out." He lifted a sealed glass jar filled with a mostly clear liquid and handed it over to Stella. "His stomach contents. It would appear that he was partaking in a mostly liquid diet prior to his death."
"That would make sense--he was dressed like he had been out partying."
"Most likely. I've also sent blood and urine to toxicology, so perhaps they'll be able to tell you more. And his fingernail scrapings are on their way to DNA; it looks like he got a hit or two of his own off."
"Thanks, Sid," Stella said as she took the jar gingerly, holding it between her thumb and forefinger.
"Oh, and there's these." He pulled a brown bag from one of the lower shelves of the cart by the autopsy table. "Your victim's clothing. And something else." He opened the bag and removed a small, clear evidence bag containing an even smaller white plastic container. "I found this when we were undressing him. It was down his pants. There's a tiny amount of liquid inside."
"Down his pants?" Angell asked, trying her hardest not to laugh as she took the bag for Stella.
"Yes, well, young men do on occasion do the strangest things," Sid said. "And I say that having once been a young man myself."
"You, Sid? Never." Stella grinned at him as she and Angell left, stepping out into the hallway to head back to the elevator. As soon as the autopsy doors closed behind them, they both began to snicker.
"Down his pants?" Angell asked. "Guys may do strange things, but that's a new one."
"You're a guy, you've been attacked or possibly just followed, and are concerned you may be attacked. What do you do if you're carrying something you don't want them to find?"
"Stick it down your pants," Angell said as the elevator dinged its arrival and the doors opened before them. They stepped on together, Stella hitting the button for the lab. "They might check your pockets, but they probably aren't going to strip-search you."
"Exactly." Stella glanced over at her and the bag she was carrying. "We're going to need to test that liquid. If he was trying to hide it, then it might have something to do with his death."
::
Mac parked the SUV in the parking garage, joining Hawkes at the back to unload the evidence. An unmarked car pulled in behind them, which they both regarded cautiously - you could never be too careful these days, especially when evidence was involved - until Danny stepped out.
"Great timing, Danny," Mac said as he lifted one of the crates of evidence bags. "How was the scene?"
"Boring," was Danny's response as he pulled his kit and evidence bags from the trunk of Scagnetti's car. "We're talking about a serious case of karma. The guy was a purse-snatcher who died snatching purses."
"Karma doesn't mean justice, Danny," Mac reminded him.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Even if the guy deserved it, doesn't mean he deserved it." Danny shook his head as they walked over to the elevator. "But that doesn't mean this was murder. If the evidence holds up what the witnesses say, then it really was karma. If he hadn't grabbed that purse, he wouldn't have died." Shrugging, he changed the subject. "How about those Rangers? How's Flack dealing?"
"Flack?" Hawkes asked, looking at Danny incredulously. "He seemed fine at the scene. Why wouldn't he be?"
"The body was in the locker room, right? It was one of the team? Flack's practically the NYPD's biggest Rangers fan. I'd be surprised if he wasn't falling apart."
"It wasn't a member of the team," Hawkes said. "Yet, at least."
"Wait-" Danny hit the up button and turned to the other two as they waited for the car. "Not a Ranger yet? You don't mean that draft pick, Elliot-something?"
"Jarrett Elliot? Yes, it was him," Mac said as the car arrived with a ding. As they started moving up to the lab's floor they could hear the elevator next to them moving as well. "You've heard of him?"
"Heard of him? Yeah." Danny shook his head. "It was going to be a pretty big thing, him joining the Rangers. They were making a big deal out of it, at least. Everyone who followed the team knew he was going to be at the game--it was announced during the coach's previous post-game interview."
"So anyone with motive knew where to find him."
Hawkes frowned, thinking about that, as the doors opened before them. "That's just going to make our work more difficult. There's no good way to narrow down who knew where to find him."
"Just everyone watching that game," Mac said. The doors to the other elevator opened, revealing Stella and Detective Angell, who joined them on their way into the lab.
"Hey guys," Stella said, "Just getting back?"
"It's crazy out there, Stell," Danny responded with a grin. "Not enough of us to go around."
"How was the park?" Hawkes asked as he stepped closer, trying to get a look at the jar she was carrying.
"Cold," Angell replied, shifting the evidence bag she carried under her arm, "and snowy."
"Your vic?"
"Under all that snow," Stella said with a sigh, "which means our evidence is either damp from the melting snow or still out there underneath it. Yours?"
"Hit by an SUV," Danny said as he opened the glass door to the lab.
"In a locker room?" Stella asked in confusion.
"Another call came after we left," Hawkes explained as he followed Danny in, "we dropped him off en route."
"Fun. Hey, Stella, you want me to drop this off with Monroe?” Angell asked, about to follow the CSIs into the lab. “She wanted me to pick up copies of the crime scene and victim photos while I was over here."
"Sure," Stella said, handing over what she carried and staying with Mac out in the hallway. "And your case?"
"Jarrett Elliot, a rising star in the hockey world. Someone didn't want him to make it to the majors."
"Hmm." Her eyes narrowed when she saw his amused look. "What?"
"I was beginning to think I was the only one who'd never heard of him."
She shook her head with a laugh. "I don't follow hockey, Mac."
"Neither do I."
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