Author's Note: The following chapter contains the introduction of several new characters thought up by me- Jane Harris (Jane McCoy), Victoria Harris, Alice Robinson, Arthur Macy, and Andrew Schrader. All the following references to Jack McCoy's ex-wife and daughter come from my imagination, not the show. ‘Mr. Wong Chung's Chinese Restaurant And Take Out' is a made up place that came out of my mind. Thank you.
OUTSIDE THE OFFICE OF EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT DISTRICT ATTORNEY JACK McCOY
THURSDAY, 9:41am
Soon after the completion of the sit-down with the Feds, Jamie headed back to her own office, leaving Jack to his musings. She had a ton of work to get done of her own, not to mention she also had to get an update from Van Buren on how several open investigations were going. So much to do and so damn little time to do it in.
Jack isn't used to having a clean desk to work at. He set to work making it look ‘aesthetically pleasing'- re-arranging pencils, pictures, pens, etc.. Organizing things always made him feel better. He felt in control of things when he could make order out of chaos. Almost merrily, he starts humming a little tune as he gets up and starts cleaning up other areas around his office. He found himself able to relax for the first time in weeks.
His enjoyment of life was interrupted by a sharp rap on the office door. Before he can even tell them to come in, a fussy, little, gray-haired woman bustles through the door- a stack of files and papers in her arms. Jack groans- he knew it was too good to last. Jamie had managed to beat back the ‘paper monster' but it wasn't going down without a fight.
"Now Mr. McCoy, don't look at me that way," the woman chides as she sets the load on Jack's desk, "You make me feel terrible for just doing my job when you look at me like that. Besides, if you'd keep up on your work like A.D.A. Schrader does, you wouldn't have to dread it so."
Jack winces slightly. He hated being compared to fellow D.A.'s. Especially, when some 30 year old half-wit was the one making him look bad. A.D.A. Andrew Schrader was so well adjusted and perfect that sometimes Jack wondered if he'd been a rock in a previous life. And as if it wasn't bad enought that the poster-boy for perfection was one of his co-workers, ‘Ms. Busy Butt' was constantly rubbing his nose in his own inefficacy.
Jack gritted his teeth and managed to plaster a hurt look on his face, "Alice, would I ever cause you undo distress by making you feel guilty for doing your job?"
"Of course not, Mr. McCoy. I know you've been under so much stress yourself lately- these mysterious letters from some confused person in Boston arriving for you and all."
"How did you know they were from a confused person?"
"I'm a secretary, Mr. McCoy- I just know these things."
"The fact that this letter looks like its been opened wouldn't have anything to do with that ‘special' talent, would it?"
"I'm insulted by your insinuation! That could have happened anywhere, Mr. McCoy. The Post Office is so reckless nowadays. "
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Robinson- I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. Forgive me?"
"Well, I don't know. I guess I accept your apology. I know you don't mean to cause me distress."
"Of course not," Jack chokes out- he couldn't stand much more of this civility.
Looking very pleased with herself, Alice turns around and bustles back out of the office without so much as acknowledging Jack's existence.
"If I wanted to cause you distress, I wouldn't do it by giving you funny looks- I'd take every last sheet of that damn paper and ram it down your throat," growls Jack to the closed door.
Jack smiles momentarily at the thought, then he remembers the letter from Boston. Hesitantly, he picks up the opened envelope and removes its contents. As ‘predicted' it was another letter from the ‘confused child' in Boston. Jack looks it over and then shoves it in the nearest desk drawer.
NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK
THE ALLY MURDER SCENE
THURSDAY, 12:17pm
"Scully, can ya help me with this?"
Scully looked up from her examination of the area below the now infamous fire escape to see her partner trying to lower the escape.
"Mulder, why are you doing that?"
"To see if this thing was tampered with in any way before the body came to be here."
"Briscoe and Logan already have in their case reports that they checked for that possibility and they found nothing."
"I'm satisfying my own curiosity here, Scully."
Scully sighs and walks over to help Mulder.
"Hey! Hey, you two! What the Heck do you think you're doing?"
Mulder and Scully turn their eyes from the rusty fire escape to the voice and see a older, stockily built African American man stomping toward them.
"Now who said you could mess around with that thing? I don't want any reporters snooping around here, got it? Get out of here!"
"We're sorry, sir," Scully offers as she backs away from the fire escape.
"I don't care. Just get outta here."
"Sir, we're F.B.I. agents," Mulder informs him.
"You're agents? Let me see some I.D.."
Mulder and Scully pull out their badges and show them to the man, who examines them carefully.
"Okay. I'm sorry Agents. Just there have been so many free-loaders and reporters hanging around here. Bugging my tenants and me."
"So you're the land-lord of this building- the one with the fire escape?" asks Scully.
"Yes, Arthur Macy," Arthur extends his right hand and both Agents shake it.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Macy," Scully says with a smile.
"Likewise, but I doubt you're here to have a chat about how I am, correct?"
"We're taking a look at this fire escape- see if there is any way someone could have planted the body here," Mulder told him.
"Thought those two cops already checked that out."
"Well, we just want to take another look," Scully put in.
"I see."
"Did you see anything unusual on the night of the murder, Mr. Macy?" Scully inquires.
"Nope."
"Were you already questioned by the N.Y.P.D.?" Mulder asks as he once again approaches the fire escape.
"Yes, sir."
"Anything you didn't tell them you wanna tell us?" probes Mulder.
"I was completely honest with the police."
"And you should be. I just wondered if you saw anything weird, odd, strange in this alley on the night of the murder, last Saturday."
"What do you mean by that?"
"It's just we have a witness that claims she saw something she can't explain happen in this very alley the night of the murder. I wondered if perhaps you saw the same thing."
"What did she say she saw?"
"Well Mr. Macy, I'm afraid I can't tell you that. We have to keep certain evidence under wraps- you understand."
Arthur Macy stands in front of the agents, not looking them in the eye, instead choosing to look at his feet.
"Mr. Macy? Is there something you want to tell us?" Scully gently questions.
"Okay...I did see something but I thought that if I told the police what I saw they would never believe me."
"What did you see, Mr. Macy?" Mulder eagerly demands.
"I swear this is the honest to God truth- I was in my apartment on the first floor that night, the night of the murder. I looked outside at those ‘women' who work the street corner. I was getting ready to call the police, to complain, but then I see one come across the street toward my building with one of her customers. Well, I figure that I'm not about to let some whore come in my building, so I head out to the front door. I was thinking they were going to come in but they walked right on by. I realized they were heading for the alley so I ran upstairs, to one of my empty apartments because it had a window facing the alley. You see, I'm no idiot, Agents- I wasn't about to go out there and play the hero, interrupting their little meeting, and get myself killed by some street scum. So I watched from my window. I see them down there, talking- making their deal, I assumed. Then there was this bright and I saw that fat guy flying into the bottom of that fire escape. It was like he was heaved up there by some invisible force or something. I've never seen anything like it and I'll be darned if I can explain it."
"I can certainly understand why you didn't tell the police," muses Scully.
"Glad to hear you understand. So now what happens?"
"Well it sounds like you witnessed the murder. Could you tell who prostitute was that the fat guy was with? Could you describe her?" Mulder anxiously asks.
"She's new around here. At least I've never seen her before. She was tallish, with long blond hair, real thin. Almost sickly looking, ya know? Hey, listen, I don't want you guys getting the wrong idea about me here- I don't watch these girls for kicks. I'm concerned about this neighborhood. It used to be nice- now it's all gone to crap. I try to keep tabs on these girls- I write down licence plate numbers of their Johns, stuff like that."
"Has she been around here since the murder?" Scully questions.
"I think so but I can't be sure. Seems like she's been a little shy since the murder- staying in the shadows, acting stand-offish."
"Sounds a little suspicious," comments Mulder.
"My thought exactly- I call the police to report the girl for prostitution but they never get out here, just like always. I figured that if she got picked up, the police might be able to nail her. I know I should have told the truth the first time, but it just sounds too strange to be true. No one would have believed me. I don't want this person to get away with murder, though. I may not like the men who use their services but, God, no one deserves to die like that poor man did."
"It's okay, Mr. Macy. What matters is that now you have told us the truth and we can still nail that woman. But we might have to come back at some point to ask you some more questions or have you confirm something," advises Scully.
"No problem. I'll be here. Anything else you need right now?"
"No, I think that's about it. Thank you, Mr. Macy," says Mulder.
"Yes, thank you very much," adds Scully.
"Glad I could help," Mr. Macy replies.
Arthur Macy walks away from the two agents and turns left when he reaches the side walk so he can go back inside is apartment complex. Back in the alley, Mulder seems to have lost interest in the fire escape and is now heading for the street and their car.
"Mulder, where are you going?" demands Scully as she hurries after him.
"Scully, we now have someone creditable to confirm Laura Andrews' story. Do you know what this means? It means we can have a serious investigation into this now. The police and the District Attorney's Office can't pooh-pooh two eye-witnesses that saw the exact same thing."
"One would think not, but Mulder, I doubt they're going to take our new found evidence very well."
"They'll have to. They can't deny this. Not now."
"Mulder, just don't get your hopes up, okay?"
"Alright, alright, just com'on. We have got to get this info to Det. Briscoe and Det. Logan. Maybe they can help us figure out how to get this girl, now that we know who we're looking for."
"Maybe, but Mulder-"
"Yeah?"
"Let me do the talking."
HALLWAY OUTSIDE THE OFFICE OF EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT DISTRICT ATTORNEY JACK McCOY
THURSDAY, 1:19pm
Jack looked over the messages that he had just picked up from his secretary. Most of them were just notices of appeals and various motions. The usual junk he came back to when he had been put most of the day.
He had been late to a sentencing hearing that morning and had nearly been held in contempt for that. The hearing had gotten over with around 12pm. It had been fairly quick because there hadn't been a lot to say- Adam Sullivan had bashed a man's head in with the butt of a gun while in the process of taking the man's car. Straight forward- simple, understandable to a certain point. None of that unexplainable invisible force crap that he was getting rammed down his throat, thanks to the Feds.
Jack entered his office and promptly dumped the pile of messages and notices on his desk. He made a mental note the start reading them all the first chance he got. After that, Jack glanced around his office, thinking. He wondered if he had anything around there he could have for lunch. Jack hadn't eaten since breakfast. He usually kept food in his office, along with other essentials which he considered vital to his work- a change of clothes; a comfy place to sleep; and of course, plenty of alcohol. He hadn't been keeping up his supplies very well as of late and so now he was running out of everything. He was rummaging through his desk drawers when Jamie entered his office.
"If that's not Jamie that just came in you got five seconds to get out," Jack grumbles as he opens another drawer.
"And a good afternoon to you too, Jack," Jamie remarks as she takes a seat in one of the chairs in Jack's office.
Jack forgets his forging for the moment, "Good afternoon, ha."
"I take it that it hasn't exactly been a wonderful day for you."
"Oh yeah- it's been so great that right after I nearly got held in contempt I started singing ‘Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah'."
"Okay, bad subject to bring up."
"Yeah, I'd agree with that. Any more news on that Cummings case?"
"No. Briscoe and Logan have been working on questioning anyone they can get their hands on. Still, they're coming up with nothing."
"What about those two F.B.I. agents?"
"They have mysteriously disappeared it seems."
"How'd they do that?"
"From what Briscoe and Logan have told me as soon as it came time to do footwork and questioning, those two agents made themselves scarce."
"Figures. Any idea where they are?"
"Nope. Briscoe and Logan are real heart-broken by it, ya know." says Jamie with a smile.
"I'm sure they are."
They both lapse into silence.
Jack thinks of something and proceeds to break the silence, "Jamie?"
"Yea?"
"What happened to Laura Andrews?"
"Well, the police kept her over-night, fined her for prostitution, and let her go in the morning."
"She's probably right back out on that street corner," sighs Jack.
"What are ya gonna do? The girl has to support herself. Apparently, the only way she thinks she can is by selling her body."
"Laura should be living in the lap of luxury like the rest of that family of her's. Not living on the streets and being a hooker."
"It's a depressing situation, Jack, no doubt about it. But on the other hand- we all have to survive, you, me, Laura. Everyone."
"Yeah. You and me, Jamie, our job is to maintain a civil world- a sense of order. While Laura depends on that disorder to keep her job."
"Makes you wonder if anything we do really makes a damn bit of difference. For everything we do there's someone out there working against us and depending on us making mistakes to survive. Makes you wonder if this job is just a pointless run in circles."
"Another disillusioned lawyer- take your place in line."
Jamie gives Jack a half-hearted smile.
Another lapse into silence.
"Ya know what Jack?" Jamie sighs at last.
"What?"
"I think we've just proven that the lives of lawyers aren't nearly as glamorous as they should be."
"Well, perhaps we should fix that- Jamie, you like Chinese food?"
"Yeah, it's okay."
"Com'on, let's get out for awhile. There's a great little Chinese restaurant near here and I haven't had a bite to eat since eight o'clock this morning."
"Let me get my coat."
27TH PRECINCT
THURSDAY, 1:26pm
"Why the Hell didn't you bring in this Macy guy?!" an infuriated Mike Logan nearly screamed at the two F.B.I. Agents.
"Well, we'd love to Detective but what are we supposed to bring him in to do, may I ask?" shouted back Scully.
"Well, for starters, Ms. High And Mighty, we could've gotten him to sit down with a sketch artist."
"You know, we can't win with you guys- we thought you'd like to be in on this when we got a big break. If we had brought the guy in right away you would've screamed bloody murder. So we don't and you still are screaming bloody murder! We're damned if we do and damned if we don't!" Mulder roared.
Lennie was getting a headache. Nothing was worth all this screaming and yelling. Nothing.
"Okay, now lets all just settle down and take it easy," Lennie suggested as he put himself between the agents and Mike. He was hoping to hold back Logan. The guy looked about ready to lunge across the room and strangle the Feds.
"Det. Briscoe is right," sighs Scully, "This isn't solving anything."
"No, really?" Mike snidely remarks.
"Mike, you too. Just cool it."
"So how do you want to run this?" asked Mulder.
"As painless as possible," replies Lennie.
"Meaning?" questioned Scully.
"Meaning we try and keep this from getting out of hand and making idiots out of ourselves," answers a much calmer Mike.
"I'm all for that," mumbles Scully.
Mulder shoots a surprised look at Scully upon hearing her comment. Scully glares back a warning not to start with her now. Mulder heeds the warning and remains silent.
"So what's the next move you want to make?" Scully finally asks.
"First we give McCoy and Ross a heads up on this new witness. Then we get the witness in here and get a statement from him."
"Alright, Scully and I will go pick up Mr. Macy-"
"And Det. Logan and myself can give the good news to the D.A.."
"Oh goodie," sarcastically comments Mike as the two agents leave and Lennie sits down to make the call to the D.A.'s office, "McCoy's gonna really love us now."
"Hey, I'll tell him that we're just the messengers. This is the F.B.I.'s bright idea. Let'em take the credit and let Jack rip them, not us, a new one."
MR. WONG CHUNG'S CHINESE RESTAURANT AND TAKE OUT
THURSDAY, 1:30pm
Jack and Jamie entered the pleasant little Chinese restaurant located a few blocks from the District Attorney's Office. They took a seat at a table near the window and are handed menus by a young Chinese man.
"You want to order now or do you want a few minutes, Mr. McCoy?" inquires the man.
Jamie's eyebrows arch in surprise at the young man's recognition of Jack.
"Give us a few minutes," Jack replies in a friendly manner.
The waiter hurries away.
"What was that about?"
"The egg rolls here are excellent but take my advice and stay away from the sushi. The health department report on this place found its way onto my desk a few days ago and it recommends that if you wish to avoid food poisoning, don't eat their raw fish ."
"Jack, you didn't answer my question."
"And what question was that?" Jack asks innocently.
"How did that waiter know who you were?"
"I come here fairly often."
"You must for the waiters to know your name."
"Jamie I have never claimed to be a great cook. In fact, you wanna know something? I can't cook for beans. I live by myself, I work odd hours, and I have the uncanny ability to be able to burn no-bakes. As a result I eat out a lot."
"Jack, how exactly are you able to burn no-bakes?"
"Let me tell you- its no easy task to accomplish. Only the extremely talented can do it."
"Ah yeah."
"You order now?" the waiter has re-appeared.
"Yes, I'll have the egg roll lunch special- Jamie?"
"Make that two of those."
"You want anything to drink with that?"
"I'd like an iced tea," Jamie requests.
"And I'd like some decent coffee. None of that decaf crap."
"Okay, shouldn't take too long."
The waiter once again disappears in to the back of the restaurant.
"Isn't it a little late for coffee, at least for you, that is?"
"I need the caffeine. I have had a splitting headache all day so far and I have a feeling its only going to get worse."
"Considering the way your day began its no wonder you've got a headache."
"Yeah, I guess."
A momentary silence.
"Jack, how did the health department report on this place end up on your desk?"
"The same way I'm able to burn no-bakes, Jamie- I'm extremely talented. That and I don't want food poisoning."
"Oh really," Jamie casts Jack a ‘you're not fooling me,' look.
Jack shoots back his best ‘just what are you implying' look of innocence.
The young waiter hurries up to the table, "Mr. McCoy?"
"Yes?"
"There is call for you at front desk area."
"From who?"
"A Detective Briscoe. He says it is urgent."
"Okay, I'll take it."
"Very well. Follow me."
Jack gets up and heads after the waiter. Jamie is now alone at the table.
"Well, so much for lunch," she grumbles.
Another waiter walks up with their food.
"Mr. McCoy has been called away?"
"Yeah."
"What you want me to do with food?"
"Doggie Bag it."