FIC: White Shroud (16/20) CSI:NY, T
Title: White Shroud, Chapter 16
Author: Zelda Ophelia (zeldaophelia)
Fandom/Character: CSI:NY; Stella, Angell, Flack
General info: Not mine; T.
Content: Some chapters include discussion of sexual violence.
Notes:Written for the csi_bigbang challenge. Big thanks to eternal_sadist 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.
Flack felt like he'd spent more time at The Garden than in the past two days than he had all month. Granted, he'd only had tickets for two games in the past month - one hockey and one basketball - but he'd been there since ten AM.
He was lucky: Tad Trask had made arrangements for him to meet there with everyone from Elliot's itinerary. It saved him the time of driving all over the city to track them down. The door opened, interrupting his thoughts, and his next interviewee entered.
"Detective Flack?" the man asked as he entered, reaching out to shake Flack's hand as he approached. "Henry Lacy, I understand you have a few questions for me."
"Yes." Flack motioned for him to sit. "You met with Jarrett Elliot while he was in the city?"
"We had dinner together the night, well, the night before he died," Lacy said. "I'm a financial planner; I have a contract with Madison Square Garden, L.P. to work with their players at a discounted rate. Most pro-athletes declare bankruptcy within a few years of retirement. They don't think to save while they're playing, and they're used to the money flowing in, so when they retire they keep on spending."
"So they hired you to help prevent that from happening?"
"Yes. It's a purely voluntary program, and there are some athletes that have declined to work with me. Some may have their own financial planner already and some just don't care to think ahead. But I've started meeting with all incoming players to let them know that I'm available and can work with them. For athletes new to the pros, like Jarrett, this is a golden opportunity. It’s a chance for him to get his finances under control early and start saving as soon as the big paychecks started coming in before he gets used to having that much money and gets bad habits that have to be broken later."
"Was Jarrett interested in the program?"
"Definitely. He had a good head on his shoulders, that kid did. He'd already found an apartment - he was proud of the fact he hadn't gone for any of the fancy Manhattan addresses but found something cheaper closer to the practice facility. He wanted to start saving as much as possible. In fact, he'd already determined that he could cover his cost of living and still have extra cash by using only half of his paycheck. He wanted to start saving and investing that other half right away. Jarrett had a lot of questions about investment plans."
"What kind of mood was he in at dinner?"
"He was excited, very excited about this opportunity."
"Is there anything from your conversation with him that stands out?"
"Just his enthusiasm."
Flack nodded: this was consistent with all of the other interviews so far. Standing, he thanked Mr. Lacy and said he could go. He scrubbed his face after the other man left the room--this wasn't getting the investigation anywhere. Glancing down at his schedule, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't expected to be meeting with Ed Slatton, but it made sense; Kevin Slatton and Jarrett Elliot had played college hockey together and were supposedly very good friends. He wasn't surprised to see that Jarrett had met with his friend's father while they were both in town.
Ed Slatton was a few inches shorter than Flack, with silvering dark hair and a slight limp. That was, if Flack remembered correctly, what had kicked him out of hockey - a bad break during a game. He sat across the table from Flack, who introduced himself and explained what they were doing.
"I just need to know what happened when you spoke with Elliot on-" He quickly glanced at the itinerary that Trask's secretary had emailed him. Slatton wasn't on it, anywhere. "When did you see Elliot?"
"The- the day he died," Slatton said nervously. He straightened his cuffs, then set his hands on the table. "I ran into Jarrett and his manager - Mr. Trask - at the hockey game. They were on their way to their box, I think. Wait, no, the coach wanted him in the locker room for the pre-game pep talk, he said. We spoke for a while to catch up, and then I went to sit down."
"How did he seem? Nervous? Excited? Did anything stand out to you?"
"No, no. He seemed-" Slatton paused and started tapping his fingers on the table as he thought. He caught himself and quickly stopped, giving Flack an apologetic look. "Jarrett seemed to be in a good mood. Happy, even."
"What did you talk about?"
"The season at University of Minnesota. Kevin's prospects in the draft."
"I heard that Kevin might be going to the Griffins," Flack said, leaning back in his chair. It wasn't every day that he could talk with one of his old hockey idols. He could remember watching Red Wings games when he was a kid, games that Slatton had played.
"It's a possibility." Slatton shrugged, glancing down at his hands before he continued. "We'd prefer that he get selected in the draft, but after the season Minnesota’s had it's unlikely."
Flack nodded, understanding that reasoning. It'd been an unfortunate season that year, after the incredible one they’d had the year before. He glanced back down at his notes, moving the interview back on track. "Did Mr. Trask mention anything to you when you spoke with him and Jarrett?"
"Oh, no. In fact, he got a phone call soon after we ran into each other. He went on ahead to the box to answer it. Jarrett was supposed to go straight to the locker room, then up to the box after that."
"Can you think of anything else that might be of use?"
"I'm afraid not." Slatton shifted in his chair as he shook his head. "It was good to see Jarrett again. He- he was like a son to me. He and Kevin were such close friends. It's a shame to lose him like this."
"Thank you, Mr. Slatton," Flack said as he stood and extended his hand. After they shook, he motioned to the door. "You've been very helpful. And if you think of anything else please let me know."
Slatton, Flack thought to himself, was very likly the last person who had seen Jarrett before he died in the locker room.
His next interview arrived quickly, a familiar looking young woman who, despite the tension around her, cast flirtatious glances at him from under her eyelashes. He gave her a reluctant grin, inwardly rolling his eyes. For all Jess teased him about witnesses flirting with him, he had to admit it made his job easier at times. If all it took was a smile to get someone to open up, that was a tool he was going to use. If nothing else, it might put her more at ease. Don recognized her type: flirting - sex, really - was a tool for her, and in this case she had it wrapped around herself like a piece of armor.
"Miss-" Don paused, checking the itinerary. "-Steffanson." He paused again, looking up at her closely. He had a feeling he knew where he'd seen her before. "Related to Brent and Paul Steffanson?"
"They're my older brothers," Dana Steffanson said quietly. She gave him a speculative look as she continued, "And you're wanting to know how I know - knew - Jarrett?"
"That would be correct. According to the information I've been given, you met with him while he was in the city."
"We went to school together," she started, her façade cracking minutely as she spoke. She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and flashing him a broad, seemingly confident smile, before she continued. "He knew that I had moved to New York after graduation, so he looked me up while he was in town."
"He looked you up?"
"We, uh, we went out a couple of times in college, but it wasn't really good timing for either of us. So when he found out they were bringing him here, he thought-" She shrugged, biting her lip and trying to appear nonchalant. "Jarrett thought maybe we could try again. I figured that it couldn't hurt anything."
"You were on a date."
"You could call it that," she said as she nervously picked at the polish on her fingernails. "I saw it as a chance to catch up with an old friend."
Don nodded, watching as she shifted in her seat. "What did your brothers think?"
She froze, staring at him with wide eyes before turning away. "They didn't know."
"They didn't?" he asked, tipping his head to the side. "But you're worried that they did. Brent didn't return to your family's box until just before the game began, after Jarrett was killed."
The façade crumbled, Miss Steffanson turned back to him, her shoulders shaking as she tried to keep her emotions in check. "Back in school, when we started dating, it was about tweaking their noses. Where I went to school, who I dated--everything I did was--to get back at them. They were such typical older brothers, trying to control my life."
"And dating Jarrett was your way of rebelling against them."
"Younger guy, star hockey player at their alma mater's rival school, broke one of Brent's NCAA records, you name it. My brothers didn't like him, and they had a lot of reasons to not want me to date him. But they didn't know that Jarrett and I met up while he was in town. Brent didn't get to New York until the day before Jarrett died, after we went out. My parents didn't get in until game day. And, well, Paul was on the ice when it happened."
"You never mentioned it to any of them?"
"Brent wasn't really interested in hanging out the night he got in. And I was working the next day; I barely had time to get home and change before going to the game."
"Then why are you so scared it was your brother?" He didn't need to say which one: they both knew who was more likely and had opportunity.
"Brent, he gets so angry sometimes. He hated that I was with Jarrett in school," she said softly as she looked down at her hands. "He made a comment - when it was announced that Jarrett would likely be joining the Rangers - that he hoped I didn't think that was an excuse to have another fling with him. I wasn't even certain I wanted to go that route. I hadn't seen Jarrett in almost two years. For all I knew, he could have been a completely different person."
"Miss Steffanson, I need to know where you and your brother were prior to the start of the game.
"I got to the Garden just as the players were going onto the ice for their warm-up, and I had just gotten to the box when Paul went out." She bit her lip as she tried to remember that night. "I think that Brent went down to the concession stand maybe twenty minutes after that? It was right after a Rangers player made a great shot during the warm-ups. The whole crowd went wild - well, those that were paying attention."
"And he returned to the box just as the warm-up was ending."
"Yes," she said, nodding at him. "Do-do you really think that he killed Jarrett?"
"I don't know, ma'am. That's what we're trying to find out."
Previous || Master Post || Next
Author: Zelda Ophelia (zeldaophelia)
Fandom/Character: CSI:NY; Stella, Angell, Flack
General info: Not mine; T.
Content: Some chapters include discussion of sexual violence.
Notes:Written for the csi_bigbang challenge. Big thanks to eternal_sadist 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.
Flack felt like he'd spent more time at The Garden than in the past two days than he had all month. Granted, he'd only had tickets for two games in the past month - one hockey and one basketball - but he'd been there since ten AM.
He was lucky: Tad Trask had made arrangements for him to meet there with everyone from Elliot's itinerary. It saved him the time of driving all over the city to track them down. The door opened, interrupting his thoughts, and his next interviewee entered.
"Detective Flack?" the man asked as he entered, reaching out to shake Flack's hand as he approached. "Henry Lacy, I understand you have a few questions for me."
"Yes." Flack motioned for him to sit. "You met with Jarrett Elliot while he was in the city?"
"We had dinner together the night, well, the night before he died," Lacy said. "I'm a financial planner; I have a contract with Madison Square Garden, L.P. to work with their players at a discounted rate. Most pro-athletes declare bankruptcy within a few years of retirement. They don't think to save while they're playing, and they're used to the money flowing in, so when they retire they keep on spending."
"So they hired you to help prevent that from happening?"
"Yes. It's a purely voluntary program, and there are some athletes that have declined to work with me. Some may have their own financial planner already and some just don't care to think ahead. But I've started meeting with all incoming players to let them know that I'm available and can work with them. For athletes new to the pros, like Jarrett, this is a golden opportunity. It’s a chance for him to get his finances under control early and start saving as soon as the big paychecks started coming in before he gets used to having that much money and gets bad habits that have to be broken later."
"Was Jarrett interested in the program?"
"Definitely. He had a good head on his shoulders, that kid did. He'd already found an apartment - he was proud of the fact he hadn't gone for any of the fancy Manhattan addresses but found something cheaper closer to the practice facility. He wanted to start saving as much as possible. In fact, he'd already determined that he could cover his cost of living and still have extra cash by using only half of his paycheck. He wanted to start saving and investing that other half right away. Jarrett had a lot of questions about investment plans."
"What kind of mood was he in at dinner?"
"He was excited, very excited about this opportunity."
"Is there anything from your conversation with him that stands out?"
"Just his enthusiasm."
Flack nodded: this was consistent with all of the other interviews so far. Standing, he thanked Mr. Lacy and said he could go. He scrubbed his face after the other man left the room--this wasn't getting the investigation anywhere. Glancing down at his schedule, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't expected to be meeting with Ed Slatton, but it made sense; Kevin Slatton and Jarrett Elliot had played college hockey together and were supposedly very good friends. He wasn't surprised to see that Jarrett had met with his friend's father while they were both in town.
Ed Slatton was a few inches shorter than Flack, with silvering dark hair and a slight limp. That was, if Flack remembered correctly, what had kicked him out of hockey - a bad break during a game. He sat across the table from Flack, who introduced himself and explained what they were doing.
"I just need to know what happened when you spoke with Elliot on-" He quickly glanced at the itinerary that Trask's secretary had emailed him. Slatton wasn't on it, anywhere. "When did you see Elliot?"
"The- the day he died," Slatton said nervously. He straightened his cuffs, then set his hands on the table. "I ran into Jarrett and his manager - Mr. Trask - at the hockey game. They were on their way to their box, I think. Wait, no, the coach wanted him in the locker room for the pre-game pep talk, he said. We spoke for a while to catch up, and then I went to sit down."
"How did he seem? Nervous? Excited? Did anything stand out to you?"
"No, no. He seemed-" Slatton paused and started tapping his fingers on the table as he thought. He caught himself and quickly stopped, giving Flack an apologetic look. "Jarrett seemed to be in a good mood. Happy, even."
"What did you talk about?"
"The season at University of Minnesota. Kevin's prospects in the draft."
"I heard that Kevin might be going to the Griffins," Flack said, leaning back in his chair. It wasn't every day that he could talk with one of his old hockey idols. He could remember watching Red Wings games when he was a kid, games that Slatton had played.
"It's a possibility." Slatton shrugged, glancing down at his hands before he continued. "We'd prefer that he get selected in the draft, but after the season Minnesota’s had it's unlikely."
Flack nodded, understanding that reasoning. It'd been an unfortunate season that year, after the incredible one they’d had the year before. He glanced back down at his notes, moving the interview back on track. "Did Mr. Trask mention anything to you when you spoke with him and Jarrett?"
"Oh, no. In fact, he got a phone call soon after we ran into each other. He went on ahead to the box to answer it. Jarrett was supposed to go straight to the locker room, then up to the box after that."
"Can you think of anything else that might be of use?"
"I'm afraid not." Slatton shifted in his chair as he shook his head. "It was good to see Jarrett again. He- he was like a son to me. He and Kevin were such close friends. It's a shame to lose him like this."
"Thank you, Mr. Slatton," Flack said as he stood and extended his hand. After they shook, he motioned to the door. "You've been very helpful. And if you think of anything else please let me know."
Slatton, Flack thought to himself, was very likly the last person who had seen Jarrett before he died in the locker room.
His next interview arrived quickly, a familiar looking young woman who, despite the tension around her, cast flirtatious glances at him from under her eyelashes. He gave her a reluctant grin, inwardly rolling his eyes. For all Jess teased him about witnesses flirting with him, he had to admit it made his job easier at times. If all it took was a smile to get someone to open up, that was a tool he was going to use. If nothing else, it might put her more at ease. Don recognized her type: flirting - sex, really - was a tool for her, and in this case she had it wrapped around herself like a piece of armor.
"Miss-" Don paused, checking the itinerary. "-Steffanson." He paused again, looking up at her closely. He had a feeling he knew where he'd seen her before. "Related to Brent and Paul Steffanson?"
"They're my older brothers," Dana Steffanson said quietly. She gave him a speculative look as she continued, "And you're wanting to know how I know - knew - Jarrett?"
"That would be correct. According to the information I've been given, you met with him while he was in the city."
"We went to school together," she started, her façade cracking minutely as she spoke. She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and flashing him a broad, seemingly confident smile, before she continued. "He knew that I had moved to New York after graduation, so he looked me up while he was in town."
"He looked you up?"
"We, uh, we went out a couple of times in college, but it wasn't really good timing for either of us. So when he found out they were bringing him here, he thought-" She shrugged, biting her lip and trying to appear nonchalant. "Jarrett thought maybe we could try again. I figured that it couldn't hurt anything."
"You were on a date."
"You could call it that," she said as she nervously picked at the polish on her fingernails. "I saw it as a chance to catch up with an old friend."
Don nodded, watching as she shifted in her seat. "What did your brothers think?"
She froze, staring at him with wide eyes before turning away. "They didn't know."
"They didn't?" he asked, tipping his head to the side. "But you're worried that they did. Brent didn't return to your family's box until just before the game began, after Jarrett was killed."
The façade crumbled, Miss Steffanson turned back to him, her shoulders shaking as she tried to keep her emotions in check. "Back in school, when we started dating, it was about tweaking their noses. Where I went to school, who I dated--everything I did was--to get back at them. They were such typical older brothers, trying to control my life."
"And dating Jarrett was your way of rebelling against them."
"Younger guy, star hockey player at their alma mater's rival school, broke one of Brent's NCAA records, you name it. My brothers didn't like him, and they had a lot of reasons to not want me to date him. But they didn't know that Jarrett and I met up while he was in town. Brent didn't get to New York until the day before Jarrett died, after we went out. My parents didn't get in until game day. And, well, Paul was on the ice when it happened."
"You never mentioned it to any of them?"
"Brent wasn't really interested in hanging out the night he got in. And I was working the next day; I barely had time to get home and change before going to the game."
"Then why are you so scared it was your brother?" He didn't need to say which one: they both knew who was more likely and had opportunity.
"Brent, he gets so angry sometimes. He hated that I was with Jarrett in school," she said softly as she looked down at her hands. "He made a comment - when it was announced that Jarrett would likely be joining the Rangers - that he hoped I didn't think that was an excuse to have another fling with him. I wasn't even certain I wanted to go that route. I hadn't seen Jarrett in almost two years. For all I knew, he could have been a completely different person."
"Miss Steffanson, I need to know where you and your brother were prior to the start of the game.
"I got to the Garden just as the players were going onto the ice for their warm-up, and I had just gotten to the box when Paul went out." She bit her lip as she tried to remember that night. "I think that Brent went down to the concession stand maybe twenty minutes after that? It was right after a Rangers player made a great shot during the warm-ups. The whole crowd went wild - well, those that were paying attention."
"And he returned to the box just as the warm-up was ending."
"Yes," she said, nodding at him. "Do-do you really think that he killed Jarrett?"
"I don't know, ma'am. That's what we're trying to find out."
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