RKMBs Forums .::Important::. Writer's Block Baltimore: A Kristogar Velo Mystery

I'll probably edit the name later...

"Kellie Holcombe, worked for the Alford family. A maid or housekeeper of some sort in that mansion uphill. Heard she was winding down her days there, that they weren't gonna keep a nanny or whatever around any more. And now she's here."

"So what's the official story right now?"

"Murder. By explosion. Shouldn't that be obvious?"

"I mean beyond that."

"Well, they don't think it was premeditated, if that's what you mean. Just the wrong place at the way wrong freaking time."

"But you're not buying it, Sullivan."

"Nah, suh, Mistah Velo. She done tell me something was up a coupla days ago," Sullivan paused for a moment. "Told me Friday, died Sunday, Wednesday in the ground."

Velo looked back at Sullivan. "What was that?"

"Just something from my man T.I. is all," Sullivan replied softly. "My reactions to these things tend to be in lyrics and poems. Like that old Solomon Grundy nursery rhyme? Ill on a Thursday and all of that. I think of that one a lot."

Velo grunted absently. He took two steps back from the wall he was inspecting. On and around the wall--the side of an apartment building, in an ordinary alley--were what remained of Kellie Holcombe. "What'd she tell you?"

"Nothing incriminating. Thinking that she might be in over her head, and wasn't sure if she knew something she shouldn't have. Wouldn't tell me shit, though."

"Is that what you're going on? To suspect foul play, I mean. Or is there more?"

"That's it. Unless you think it's relevant that I've always felt the Alfords were too shifty for their own damn good. Something about them never sat right with me."

Velo took another step back and was already up against the opposite alley wall. "Cramped place for an elaborate murder, wouldn't you agree?"

"I didn't say it made sense," Sullivan half-smiled. "I just said I didn't buy the 'wrong place at the wrong time' theory. I won't pretend that Baltimore's a safe place, but we don't generally have bombs going off unless they're intended to."

"If that's all you have to stand on, the department's in the right to ignore you and file this away."

"Great. So you think I'm just grasping at straws here, too?"

"No. You're just on the wrong path. The Alfords didn't kill Ms. Holcombe by exploding her, because the explosion didn't kill her."

Sullivan rolled his eyes. "Fuck you, Velo, don't jerk me around if you know something. What do you got?"

Velo pointed to a spot on the wall. "That didn't stand out to you?"

Sullivan looked. "It's burned flesh. There's a lot of it around us, in case you haven't noticed. You're almost stepping in some."

"If you're going to expect people to believe conspiracy theories, you need to take notice of details like this. All of the flesh and skin is at an angle suggesting that Ms. Holcombe was standing here--" Velo took a step forward, "--when the bomb went off. All, that is, except that little bit right there." Velo pointed again to the spot on the wall, a piece of flesh about the size and shape of an index finger.

"Okay, I understand that part," Sullivan nodded. "Now's the part where you tell me why that's important."

"It's all angles," Velo took a step back again, and directed Sullivan to stand in front of him. "Ms. Holcombe's standing there, bomb goes off, there's no way that a part of her ends up on the wall at that angle. The angle would suggest moreso a projectile, going downward--" Velo went through the motions as he described them--"right through her, and ending at the wall here. And it happened before the bomb exploded."

"So somebody shot her?" Sullivan asked, mind racing. "Okay then, one of the Alfords could have lured her here, shot her point blank, then set off the bomb, so there'd be too little left to determine the real cause of death!"

"The second part of what you said is correct," Kristogar began slowly. "That's the reason for the bomb. However, the only way she could have been shot, standing there, in this narrow alley, at that angle, is if one of the Alfords happened to be 12 feet tall. Are they?"

"No," Sullivan responded dejectedly. "I mean, unless they're metas, but I doubt that. So it had to be somebody else? But how?"

"Not necessarily. I'd say the shot probably came from up there," Velo gestured up the alley wall. "Lots of windows to choose from. To get the angle we need, I'd narrow the options down to..." Velo's eyes scanned and surveyed the wall a couple of times in silence while Sullivan waited impatiently. "Three. Interrogate the people in the middle windows on the third and fourth floor, and the far window on the fifth. If it's not one of those three, then my physics are more out of practice than I realize."

"So why haven't you cured cancer yet, Velo?" Sullivan asked half-smiling. "Is there anything I can do? You know, so it at least looks like I know what I'm doing?"

"Get this piece examined. It's not just at a different angle...I think it might be a different person. This isn't Kellie Holcombe on the wall right there...it's the bullet that killed her."

Sullivan heaved an angry sigh. "Now you've lost me for good. If that isn't her flesh, then who the fuck could it possibly be?"

"Make sure to get Gillpatrick and only Gillpatrick to examine it. I could be way off, but if I'm not, he's the only one we can trust," Velo stated this carefully as he continued to stare at the mystery piece on the wall. He slowly started to back out of the alley before finally taking his eyes off, turning around, and leaving Sullivan in the dark of the alley.

I like this. Good read.

Coolness. I'll keep it up then.

*****
Almost every night, the residence of the Alfords, tucked away from city limits on its own little hill, is dark and empty. But on this night, its routine silence is disturbed by a soft jingling at the knob of the front door, followed by the door opening and two figures sauntering in.

"You should, like, teach classes on how to do that," one of them said to the other. "You know, spread the wealth."

"There's nothing to teach, it just makes sense to me. This gift doesn't keep on giving. Get the light for me, would you, Lavi?"

"Of course. It's not like I get to do anything else on this mission." Lavi flipped a switch, shedding light throughout the house for the first time that night. The two were surprised to find themselves standing right in front of the entrance into the house's living room. "Well...that was easy."

"Yeah, he said it would probably be in the living room, right?"

"Yeah-huh. So the hard part is over." The two entered the living room and fanned out to opposite ends, scanning the walls and floor. Lavi eventually called out in a hushed tone, "Hey, Asad, the window here's locked from the outside, so we'll have to leave the way we came in."

"Check," Asad called back.

"Got anything at your end?"

"Just a weird ass collection of old weapons or something. These things look older than George Burns."

"Dated reference, Burns is dead."

"Is he? Shit. I've been away too long. Alright, let's check out the safe." Asad and Lavi both silently converged at the fireplace at the far end of the living room, over which hung a Munch print. "So what's this one called?"

"Evening on Karl Johan Street. The Scream's better, but I like this one, too."

"I don't think either belongs over a fireplace. When you have guests over, they usually want something happier to stare at when they're not paying attention to you."

"This guy once did a painting called The Great Masturbator. You should bring that up when you see a hot chick checking out a Munch in a museum sometime."

"Yeah, I'll do that," Asad replied. While the two were discussing artistic nuances, Asad had already pulled off the painting to reveal a compartment behind, protected further by a lock.

"Will you need to be quiet while you do this?"

"Makes no difference, I just need you to look out for me." Asad wheeled the combination a little before slowing down to a methodical pace.

"You've got five minutes," came a voice from a third party that made Lavi start violently.

Without missing a beat, Asad said evenly, "For future reference, Lavi, when you're on lookout, don't be watching me."

"Oy vey, you just took years of my life," Lavi panted while his breathing returned to normal. "Why weren't you here earlier, Kyle?"

Kyle shrugged. "Wasn't a need. You two still may be teenagers, but you don't need a babysitter." Meanwhile, Asad continued to methodically turn the combination left and right, eventually putting in a five number sequence that unlocked the safe.

"What is it exactly?" Lavi asked. "Super hearing? Can you hear the tumblers or something?"

"I keep telling you," Asad started while turning the handle and opening the safe door. "It's nothing like that. I can't explain it, it just makes sense to me while I'm doing it. Alright, then, let's see what we have." The three gathered around while Asad reached into the safe and felt around. "Hm, only one thing in here." He pulled out a round object, small enough to be held in two hands, wider than it was thick.

"It feels like a toy or something," Asad commented before handing it to Lavi. Lavi ran his hand over the surface--it felt quite smooth, but had a small patch of glass as well as some other bumps and dimples.

"It's like a model spacecraft or something, very childlike. Only..." Lavi trailed off.

"Only what?" asked Asad.

"Well, it's got, like, little holes where legs or something could come out, right? But there aren't any buttons or something, that you'd expect on a kid's toy, to bring the legs out. And look inside here--" Lavi indicated the glass. "That's a lot of fine detail for a model, isn't it?"

"You're absolutely right," Kyle interjected, taking the object for himself to observe. "There's also the setup for something like a ramp on its bottom, next to where the legs would be, but nothing to bring that out, either. See those buttons on the inside?" Kyle paused while the other two once again peered inside the glass to the model's inside. He hesitated and slowly said the next sentence. "I think this is the real thing." Before letting that sink in, however, Kyle handed the object back to Asad. "We've wasted too much time. They're in the driveway."

"You're fucking kidding, right?" Lavi asked as Asad put the object back in the safe and shut it, then replaced the painting. Immediately, the sound of a door slamming not far away could be heard. "Oh, fucking--" Lavi bolted to the front door, only to see that a figure was about to open it. Lavi turned back, "Hey, guys, where do we--" and stopped himself as he realized he was alone in the room. The door opened, and Lavi positioned himself right against it, but without putting any pressure on it, as the figure on the other side slowly pushed it open.

"Clive, dear," a woman's voice, inches away from Lavi but with the door between them, called to the outside. "You realize you left the door open and the lights on?"

"I'm sorry, dear," came a male voice from not too far away as the sound of another car door slamming echoed. "Tough few nights lately, you know."

"Oh, I don't mind," the woman sighed as she entered the house and strolled toward the living room, shedding a fur coat. "It's the most interesting thing to happen to me tonight." The door slowly started to close, leaving Lavi in plain sight behind the woman. Suddenly, Clive threw open the door with enough force that Lavi had to jump forward to avoid being hit full on.

"Let's forget bad things," Clive cried out as he bounded after the woman in the living room. They shared a laugh and tumbled onto a couch together. Lavi took the distraction to sneak out the front door before it closed again, then sprinted through the driveway and down the hill without looking back. After a minute, he finally slowed down to catch his breath, before feeling a shoulder knock him to one side. A second of panic engulfed him until a familiar laugh calmed him down. "Asad..."

"Way to be, man, way to be!" Asad shouted joyously. "That's the toughest situation I've seen you get out of!"

"Yeah, how the fuck did you get out?" Lavi panted exasperatedly.

"Went up the stairs and out a window on the second. You really need to avoid hitting panic mode and think more logically next time."

"Man, I'm not allowing there to be a next time. If I'm told I got five minutes, I'm just booking, no questions asked. What about Kyle?"

Asad shrugged. "Man's always disappearing into thin air. He was probably already back with Velo while we were providing the theatrics. They should make a movie about us."

Lavi nodded, then slowly smiled and shook his head slowly. "Speaking of which, the night's still young. Let's get the report back to Velo. The sooner we're through with this, the sooner we can get back to the real excitement!" The two shared a laugh and walked away from the hillside.

I think you got the name from the Cleveland Browns

oh and you lie about your age..........good story though.

"Alright, I'll tell him," Sullivan muttered as he switched off the phone. He turned to address the man lounging on the couch in the darker half of his office. "That was Gillpatrick."

"What's he got?" Velo asked.

"He says that the second person's DNA was 'Billy McCoy,' and that you would know what that means." Velo nodded as a satisfied smile briefly spread across his face, before he slowly deadpanned again. Sullivan paused. "He laughed when I asked if Mr. McCoy was a bullet of some sort, so I'm still trying to decipher that part."

"Don't worry about it, it probably means nothing. So what about where the shot came from?"

Sullivan answered this with a little renewed vigor, as he finally felt like he could tell Velo something that he didn't already know. "The third floor window was a young couple who said they were 'busy' all night. They bragged that their neighbors could verify that. They did. Said the screaming could probably be heard for blocks." Sullivan chuckled. "It was in the hopes of hearing that kind of dirt that got me to join the force in the first place."

Even Velo smiled faintly. "And the others?"

"Fifth floor, a single mother and a nanny watching over six kids. I questioned the kids, of course. Nothing could possibly have happened in that room that they wouldn't have squealed about. Seemed harmless." Sullivan waited in case Velo would disagree with the sentiment.

"Alright," Velo said calmly. "The fourth floor, then?"

"That's the interesting part, and it just got more interesting," Sullivan started, sitting down on the edge of his desk. "It would appear that nobody lives there. The other tenants say they never see anybody on that floor, and there's no real evidence that anybody occupied that middle room."

"What all did you find?" Velo interrupted. The question caused Sullivan to hesitate, as he didn't see the significance of the answer.

"Real odds and ends. The skin of a grape, and some cloth on a table near the window, surrounded by mousetraps. Lots and lots of mousetraps. There was also a ruler on the floor. I have no clue how any of those things get there, unless some real fucked up whackjob had lived there for a bit."

"Perhaps," Velo held onto the word, and immediately Sullivan knew that Velo either knew something he wasn't saying, or was working through the clues toward a different conclusion.

"Anyways," Sullivan tried regaining control of the conversation. "The interesting part is this: rent has been getting paid on all three rooms on the floor, on time and the exact amount, for about a year. If you knew the usual tenants of that building, you'd know why this made the landlord grateful, yet suspicious." Sullivan prepared to set up the home run of his discourse. "And guess what name all the bills were paid in?"

"Billy McCoy?"

"That's right," Sullivan smiled, satisfied. "Your buddy, Billy McCoy." Velo slowly nodded, appearing to not be taken back in the least. "Alright, that's what I got, wanna bring in your kids, then?"

"Sure."

Sullivan opened his office door and called in Lavi and Asad, who entered and stood in front of Velo, still laying casually on the couch. "Got anything for me?"

"You talk to Dahlberg yet?" Asad asked.

"He was here earlier. I'd like to hear your sides of it now."

"Hey," Lavi began, smiling. "Can I take a guess at what Kyle's report was? 'I showed up at house on hill. Noticed Lavi had nice shoes. Later we left.' Am I close?"

Sullivan laughed merrily. "You're not too far off, actually."

Velo smiled bemusedly. "His reports do tend to be lacking in the specifics. That's why I'd like to hear from you two."

"Alright, seriously, then," Asad started. "I'm sure he already told you what was in the safe. It was this little spaceship model or something, only without any buttons or whatever you'd expect to be on a toy. Then the people showed up and Lavi almost got caught."

This piqued Velo's interest. "You got close to the Alfords?"

"All too close," Lavi admitted. "I could smell her perfume. Thick stuff."

"How did they seem to you? What I mean is, were they acting in any way unusual?"

"Not really...they said something about having a rough few days of it, and forgetting bad things. Didn't seem like the type to be expecting a murder charge, if that's what you're getting at."

"Hm. Anything else that either of you can think of seeing? How much did you get to investigate?"

"Not much," Asad responded. "The living room was the first and last room we checked. Really clean."

"Looked like Monk was living there or something," Lavi added.

"Alright then," Velo said softly, as he started to stare at the floor. He was clearly about to go deep in thought and gave the air of disappointment at the report. "That will be all for now. Thank you."

Sullivan opened the door, and Lavi and Asad were starting to walk out. Suddenly, Asad turned around. "They had this crossbow collection, too."

Velo's eyes suddenly shot up from the floor and at Asad, causing everyone in the room to stop. "What was that?"

"They had a crossbow collection," Asad repeated.

"Where? Was it hidden?"

"Behind the fish tank. No, wasn't hidden, but it wasn't exactly being shown off, either. Like, you don't see it just by walking in and sitting down, you actually have to look for it."

Everyone was suddenly fixated on Velo's eyes, as his own gaze wandered away from everything else in the room, like he was seeing something nobody else could. Velo's face slowly broke into a broad grin, and he looked back at Asad. "That's exactly what I needed."

"For what?" Sullivan asked, startled.

"To solve the case. Get a warrant, Sullivan. Tomorrow, we're bringing in the Alfords for the murders of Kellie Holcombe and Billy McCoy. Lavi and Asad, great work."

"Hey, we do our best," Asad replied tongue-in-cheek.

"See, man," Lavi said. "I told you he couldn't do this on his own, that's why he had to call in the masters!"

A knock on the front door of the Alfords' residence was followed by the greeting, "Baltimore P.D. Please open up." Sunny Alford opened the door, where stood two well-built men, one wearing a rather sorry suit and tie, and the other wearing a green rubber raincoat around more plain clothes. Behind them were two uniformed policemen.

"I'm Detective Stewart Sullivan," said the one in the suit, and gesturing to the man next to him he added, "and this is Kristogar Velo. Is it alright with you if we come in for a little talk?"

"Not at all," Sunny smiled, and casually allowed them to enter. "Is there anything we can get you gentlemen?"

"An audience with you and your husband will be all."

Sullivan and Velo were calmly led into the living room, where sat Clive Alford, in a chair with a tall back in front of the fireplace, reading an old novel. Clive closed the book when the newcomers entered the room and smiled warmly. "What could we do for you fine gentlement today? Anything to drink?"

"I'd like to cut to the chase, Mr. Alford. You're suspected of arranging for the murder of your former housekeeper. What's gonna be your official story for the night on which Kellie Holcombe was murdered?" Sullivan prodded.

Clive's eyebrows raised as Sunny also expressed disbelief. "Come again?" Clive started. "I was under the impression that the department's stance was that Kellie's death was not premeditated?"

"The stance has changed. We're positive she was intended to be murdered, in the exact fashion it happened." Despite Sullivan's bluster, the Alfords remained poised. "Once again, what will be your story as per your whereabouts?"

"No story," Clive answered in a way that did not appear defensively. "Me and the missus were with a couple of friends for a play, had a few drinks and came straight home."

"You drink and drive often, sir?"

Clive blushed. "We were actually driven home, Detective."

Sullivan took a brief glance about. "Your chauffeur will back that up?"

"We took a cab," Clive said, and realized immediately he made a mistake by answering hurriedly. The corners of Sullivan's mouth ever so slightly made a turn toward a smile. For the first time Clive and Sunny took notice of the man who remained quiet all this time, Kristogar Velo. He had drifted over to the fish tank, and stood in front of it as if he were blocking an exit route for the Alfords.

Sullivan regained their attention. "That raises questions about whether you were driven to the...play, was it?...without your chauffeur, and where your mode of transportation ended up for the night if you hailed a cab home. But all of that can be worked out later. The important thing, at this moment, is where you were on the night Ms. Holcombe was murdered."

The snideness of this comment caused Clive Alford to shift uncomfortably on his seat. Sunny finally interjected, "we already told you. If you're going to accuse us of something, do it, otherwise, we'll have to ask you to leave."

"I already got a warrant," Sullivan stated with a tone that pierced the air like a dagger. "But I wanted to give you the opportunity to allow us to search your home without it. I'm charitable like that. Will you?"

Sunny paused, all earlier composure and confidence faded. Finally, she resigned, "Go ahead."

The moment Sunny finished speaking, Kristogar Velo started directing the two uniformed officers. "There's a safe behind that painting, over the fireplace. See what's in it, I'll cover the rest of the room." He glanced back at the Alfords, who stared at him, mouths slightly agape. "This building appears to be the work of one Nate Weiss, if I'm not mistaken. His signatures were that the living room would be the first one would encounter upon entering, and including a safe above the main fireplace."

Sullivan chuckled as the Alfords slowly got out of the way of the officers, who removed the painting. As Clive gave the police the five-number combination, Sunny's attention was once again directed back to Velo, who was scanning behind the fish tank. He ran his hands across a collection of crossbows, before grabbing one and emerging to join the crowd in front of the fireplace. Sullivan noted that once Sunny saw which weapon Velo held in his hands, she nervously drew in her breath, but didn't say anything.

The policemen finally pulled what appeared to be a model spaceship out from the safe. They handed the object to Velo, who now held the ship in one hand and the crossbow in the other.

Clive decided to break an extended silence, choosing his words carefully. "I don't know what you're doing with our crossbow, but I like to collect miscellaneous antiques. That ship model is quite rare, and possibly worth thousands, which is why we kept it in a safe."

Velo did not appear to heed these words as he weighed the objects in his hands. Finally, he looked up to Sullivan and nodded. "It fits. All of it. They did it."

Sunny gasped, and Clive was about to say something in defense but decided against it.

Sullivan chuckled and looked back to the Alfords. He didn't want to miss a second of their reaction. "The parlor scene is now yours, Mr. Velo."

"The only question I have left," Kristogar Velo began, "is whether or not you two personally killed Billy McCoy, or if he just happened to be dead."

Clive cocked his head in genuine puzzlement. "Who's Billy McCoy?"

"He's the owner of that 'model' spaceship, if I'm not mistaken. And the resident of the rooms you've been paying for in the building next to where you murdered Ms. Holcombe."

"Do we really have to take this?" Sunny demanded. "Or can we just call our lawyer?"

"You don't have to do anything at the moment," Sullivan conceded. "I haven't even read you your rights yet. I just figured that you might want to hear Velo out so you know what you're up against."

"Will you answer my question, or should I proceed?" Velo interrupted. Taking the Alfords' silence as an answer, he continued. "At any rate, what is known is that Mr. McCoy was dead. You had his mode of transportation in your house, your names on checks sent to him, and he had been under your care for quite some time."

"Why would that be?" Sullivan smiled, playing along. The Alfords were steadfastly remaining deadpan. "What was so damn important about McCoy that you had him sheltered up in some hellhole downtown?"

"The fortune of the Alfords, as you know, has been made over the years...in microcircuitry." Velo paused, as if to let this detail sink in to the present company. "All these years, the Alfords' have been at least three steps ahead of everybody in this field, and nobody could figure out how they did it."

"So how did they do it?" Sullivan asked.

"They didn't. All along, it was the work of Mr. McCoy, who could provide all sorts of advanced technology of that the Alfords' competition would never even dream. Behind the scenes, of course. Nobody would have even fathomed such a man as Mr. McCoy existed."

"What did McCoy have that nobody else could have found?"

"Experience in microcircuitry beyond what any of us could gain in a lifetime, or several lifetimes. See, the thing about Billy McCoy...was that he was only a couple inches tall."

"How's that?" Sullivan asked. "Since when is a man only a couple of inches tall?"

"When he's an alien." The two uniformed police officers reacted in bewilderment. The Alfords maintained their composure. Velo continued. "But something went sour, didn't it? Either McCoy died, or he was no longer providing use. Or maybe you just stopped getting along. Whatever the case, the Alfords found cause to panic. Their company...their stock...has been treading water for awhile now. I'm sure their Board of Directors are asking questions. So the Alfords decided it would be best if they pushed away as many people as they could and retreat into a sort of isolationism. Outside of the occasional P.R. appearance, or night out with the friends, of course, to appear as if things were as normal as they ever were." Kristogar paused, and stated the next part softly, almost sadly. "And that's where Ms. Kellie Holcombe comes in."

"She was part of the help," Sullivan stated. "They pushed her away."

"Naturally. But as a housekeeper, Ms. Holcombe knew more than any other workers throughout the estate would. She knew little things like what kind of lingerie the missus would wear for the master's special days, which cooks spit in the food they prepared for guests, and which parts of the neighbors' yards the dogs preferred to leave their shit." Sullivan couldn't supress a chuckle as Kristogar Velo, for the first time, dropped that politically correct air of formality. Then Velo finished, "And she also knew that the secret to the fortune of the Alfords, whatever it was, rested within that vault, over the fireplace, in the living room."

"I'm sure we'd all like to know such things about our employers," Sullivan observed. "Especially if we were about to lose our job."

"Exactly. Holcombe didn't have much going for her beyond working here. She didn't get paid well enough to have too much money saved, and she was trying to live beyond her means anyways, thinking she at least had job security. It must have been made clear to her that, having been dismissed, she would not be welcome to stay here, with the Alfords, until she found a new direction. She didn't even have family as a source to turn. Nobody even came to identify her body." Velo had briefly lapsed into the sad tone again, but then resumed evenly. "Her last option was the safe, and learning what it contained."

"Holcombe doesn't sound like she was close enough to the Alfords to be given the combination," Sullivan offered.

"I doubt that as well. But for a housekeeper, cracking a five-number combination wouldn't be as hard as it would for a burglar. People are sloppy, and they make sure numbers in a combination like that would be easy to remember. The numbers would have a special significance to the owners of the safe, and since a housekeeper knows what is specially significant to the owners, she can perhaps narrow down the possibilities."

"So did Holcombe figure out the combo?"

Velo nodded. "She must have. It may have taken her awhile, or maybe she got lucky hit paydirt the first time. Either way, she opened the safe and found what was inside." Velo paused and looked each of the Alfords in the eye. "I can't help but come to the conclusion, however, that what Ms. Holcombe found was so meaningless to her that she didn't even approach you for the purpose of blackmailing. She probably thought she hit a deadend."

"But the Alfords knew she broke in anyways?"

Velo gestured to the room around him. "Look at this place. Of course they have security cameras. And the Alfords, already paranoid enough to fire their entire house staff, was surely paranoid enough to be checking the security tapes every night. So they saw Holcombe break in and discover the ship."

"Interesting. So the worry is that she finds out that the Alfords are housing aliens and can go to the press about it," Sullivan gathered. "Talk about a shitstorm waiting to happen. You think the press or government would come down as hard on people harboring aliens as they do on people harboring metas?"

"Why not? At the very least, the story becomes a sort of circus sideshow attraction and discredits the Alfords altogether. The exact thing that doesn't impress any Board of Directors. If Holcombe knew the truth, she must be eliminated. No chances."

"And that's that?"

Velo nodded again. "Pretty much. I assume they already knew that Holcombe lived near Mr. McCoy, and that she walked by his building every day. So McCoy, one way or another, ends up dead. His body is placed on this"--Velo lifted the crossbow he had been holding for all to see--"and shot at Ms. Holcombe. To ensure the women's death would be swift enough that she would be dead before she could even scream, they probably put something like a match on the weapon as well, so that Billy's body would make a fiery bullet of sorts and go clear through Holcombe's body. Since McCoy's body was not designed to fit an old crossbow, friction would be inevitable, and the match would light with ease."

"I'm always amazed at how the most vicious bastards can be the most elaborate," Sullivan observed. Clive finally dropped the edge from his demeanor. He chuckled, which brought Sullivan to demand an explanation. "What the Hell's so damn funny?"

"You can't possibly be serious," Clive smiled, almost jovially. "Stories about little, tiny alien men flung from crossbows. How in the world could anybody be convicted of that?" Sunny laughed now, having suddenly regained a measure of confidence.

Sullivan glanced back at Velo expectantly, but his heart sunk to see that, rather than strike back with more evidence, Kristogar just slowly tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. "You're right," Velo conceeded. The air started to hang heavy in the room. "As of now, no government on the planet officially acknowledges so much as the existence of aliens. Without that, any evidence supplied by Billy McCoy is useless, and without that, nothing can be pinned on the two of you."

Clive and Sunny both smiled and nodded smugly. "In that case," Sunny said, "I'm going to kindly ask the four of you--"

Velo interrupted, still staring at the ceiling. "I'm not finished." The Alfords lost their regained confidence once more, while Sullivan and the two other cops waited, unsure of what further role they would play.

Kristogar leveled his head once more and stared right through the Alfords. "I can see how easy it must have looked. How smoothly you could get away with killing your former housekeeper...how it seemed that nothing could possibly lead its way back to you. An apartment filled with mousetraps...so that Billy McCoy would not be eaten while he was asleep. But who could prove that McCoy even existed, that he was even real? Who would know a toy in a safe was that kind of evidence? You even used a crossbow and a bomb, a random combination which provided an exquisite scene...which may not be classified as a crime scene in the first place...McCoy's remains, if found, would be assumed to have been Holcombe's... Everything I have presented so far is moot. It is not evidence that could be used against you...except for the crossbow. The only way to send you up with either one's murder is by placing you with the murder weapon at the murder scene."

Velo paused again, and at this point anybody else was afraid to say anything. He slowly started to smile and continued. "You are not as clever as you think. You rented out an entire floor so that no neighbor could ever stumble onto McCoy's existence...used a crossbow, because the building was heavily populated and people would hear a gunshot...in and out, and nobody could possibly be the wiser. It never occured to you that you could ever be outmaneuvered, by a couple of kids from the fifth floor, playing a spirited game of hide-and-seek..." Velo's smile turned out in full effect at this point, as he readied to deliver the final blow. "...on the fourth floor."

The Alfords immediately tensed up. Sullivan couldn't control his laugh. "You've got to be shitting me. So the kids..."

"Saw everything. And the Alfords never even knew they were there." Velo tilted his head as he kept on grinning. "I gathered they have gotten quite good at the game over the years."

Sullivan breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Finally. I thought we were about to lose them for a second there. Okay, I've always wanted to say this..." Sullivan turned to the two officers with him. "Take them away, boys." As the officers read off the Miranda rights, the Alfords sagged their shoulders in dejection.

"Nice work. Next round's on me," Sullivan said. Him and Velo were leaning against Sullivan's car in the Alfords' driveway, watching various cops wander about searching the residence for any additional evidence. The sun was setting. The murderous couple had long since been taken downtown. Sullivan continued. "There's still something that's not sitting right with me."

"Isn't that why you called me in the first place?" Velo replied.

"That's right, smartass, and it looks like I was right about that, wasn't I?" Sullivan retorted. "Actually, there are a couple of things that I'm having trouble working through. Now, I know you know a lot of stupid shit, but how the fuck do you know whether this house was built by Nate Weiss or not?"

Kristogar chuckled. "That was a bluff. I made up the name Nate Weiss on the spot. In case they were aware that their house had been broken into recently, I couldn't chance being connected, so I invented a reason why I would know there was a safe behind that painting."

Sullivan breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Then you are human after all. ...I think. So you didn't know if they had been aware of what Lavi and Asad did?"

"I assumed they didn't, from the way Lavi reported their demeanor. I knew they had security cameras, but they could have checked them in the past 24 hours."

"Good thing they hadn't."

"With Holcombe gone, perhaps they didn't think anybody else would be breaking in anytime soon, much less finding anything incriminating. That's not the only way we were lucky," Velo said.

"Oh yeah?" Sullivan raised an eyebrow.

"If they hadn't fired everyone who could have provided adequate security, things would have gotten more...difficult."

"Well, before you ask, I'll take care of erasing any security tapes personally," Sullivan promised. Then he grunted absently. "Another thing, it's a small detail, but...when Gillpatrick said that you'd know Billy McCoy...what was that all about?"

"Billy McCoy is the name the government assigns to registered aliens whose name they can not or care not to pronounce. It's an unassuming enough name, there could be a Billy McCoy in any city."

"I'll ignore the disturbing part about the government registering aliens or whatever...not my business," Sullivan stated. "But how did you figure this one was an alien? You seemed to have this whole thing pegged from the moment you studied the crime scene."

"I worked out several theories after studying the scene. If the one about a small alien being used as a bullet to kill Holcombe was a red herring, I would've started over and followed a different path." Velo shrugged and continued. "Turns out I only needed one theory."

"So how did they happen across Billy, or whatever his name was, in the first place?" Sullivan asked.

"Some kind of random chance, I'd assume," Velo said. "We'll probably never really know those details, since it won't be brought up at the trial."

"Alright then, I think I understand all the facts of the case now," Sullivan said. "In the end, Holcombe was just in the wrong place at the way wrong freaking time, wasn't she? I mean, if she'd been working for anybody else, or was sick for a coupla days, she'd still be alive."

"It's best to forget bad things," Velo said with a sort of mysterious air.

"I know I said I didn't trust the Alfords an inch, but now, this whole thing with them isn't sitting right with me, either," Sullivan began.

"Yet you suspected the Alfords from the start. What doesn't make sense now?"

"Just, none of this...doesn't seem to make sense, for a wealthy socialite couple to be doing all this weird shit, y'know?"

"I've seen it before," Velo said slowly, as if explaining a scientific theory. "They're a textbook 'bored couple.' Too rich or too prominent to divorce, so they find excitemtn to avoid the tragedy of being bored. That's what made you wary of them, I think...you could tell they were bored with one another, and yet something was going on behind the scenes that was keeping it together. Unlike most of the cases I've dealt with--exhibitionists and the like, but also murderers, too--the Alfords didn't have to go looking for the excitement their relationship needed. It just simply found them."

"And killing Holcombe?"

"Part of the excitement. McCoy was already dead, that chapter was over. They needed something new to unite them, so they jumped on the first convenient excuse for murder. They were really becoming quite the thrillseekers. It's good you suspected them, or they may not have been caught for awhile."

"It's good I called you in, you mean," Sullivan chuckled.

Velo simply shrugged. He wasn't much for modesty or flattery. His demeanor changed as a brief silence passed, and he posed his next question carefully. "So how's your mother, Stewart?"

Sullivan smiled. He anticipated this question. "In the same place she's been for a year now. She's gotten so peaceful lately...when my turn comes to go, I sure hope I can handle it with the same grace and dignity." Sullivan then glanced at Velo, with a weird mixture of admiration and confusion. "I told her you were in town. She's waiting to see you. I wish to Gob I knew how exactly you two even know each other."

Velo, staring at the ground at this point, half-smiled. Then he looked back at Sullivan and nodded. "I'll go see her then." He broke off to walk down the driveway.

"Hey, you want me to drive you?" Sullivan offered. Velo turned back and shook his head.

"Don't worry about it. I got my own method of transportation." Kristogar Velo then turned and walked away from the Alfords' residence, leaving Sullivan once again feeling that he had been given more questions than answers.

The one-bed hospital room was sterile and claustrophobic. The woman in the bed stirred from her sleep, and could feel the presence of another enter the room. Without opening her eyes, she called, "Nurse, could you get me a new pillow? This one's got something going on with it..." She let her voice trail off weakly. She felt the old pillow get taken away, and a new pillow get gently placed behind her. Once she got comfortable again, she opened her eyes to thank the nurse. Her eyes suddenly became very wide, and she let out a startled gasp. "Velo!"

"Hello, Rena," Velo smiled and slightly tipped his head. He pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat back.

"Lord, you still sneak up on me even when I hear you come in," Rena said as she got her breath back. Then her demeanor turned on a dime, and she showed little resemblance to the weak old woman who asked for a new pillow. "And just what took you so damn long? I've been in this damn hospital for almost a year now!"

"I'm sorry. I didn't think you needed me around."

"Well, you're right to think that," Rena huffed. "Haven't needed anybody but myself my whole damn life." Then her tone softened. "You're a real pain in the ass to get in touch with, you know. I couldn't even prove you were anything but a figment of my imagination. Then Stewie told me you were in town, and he didn't even know about our history...have you destroyed all the evidence of your existence, Velo?"

"I believe so. Everything except people's memories."

"Uh oh...that's not why you're here, is it?" Rena smiled.

"No. But I heard you wanted to see me again."

"Yeah, tha's true," Rena began wistfully. "Just a quick last look. I don't want no drawn out goodbyes, I always hated that. I just wanted to make sure you were still around, fighting the good fight..." Rena studied Velo more carefully. "And I'll be damned, you haven't aged a day. Got a secret ingredient for your skin or something?"

"If I had, I would've made a killing off it years ago and retired early."

Rena chuckled. "Yeah, you could be witty when you wanted to. Just what the Hell would you do with retirement anyways." Velo chuckled this time. "The rest of us can all wither and fade, but Kristogar Velo will always look 25, and act like it, too."

"Don't be so harsh, you look great," Velo assured her.

"Hey, I never said I didn't." This time, chuckling seem to cause Rena to wince. She started to speak slower, more carefully. "Well, I know you're busy, so you can get goin' and don't have to entertain an old woman's whims no more. I just wanted one last reassurance that you were still out there, fighting the good fight. So's I know I can give up my own fight now."

Velo nodded, and slowly stood up. He softly grabbed one of Rena's hands within his own, and gave her a gentle kiss on her forehead. "You were one of the greats, Rena." Then he slowly let go, nodded his head once more, and left the room. Rena was asleep once more within seconds.

Velo strode down the hospital stairs and out the door quietly and briskly. As soon as he stepped out into the open air, he heard a voice.

"You'll live to bury us all, won't you?"

Velo turned to the source of the voice, who was leaning against the hospital's outside wall. "Hello, Mr. Dahlberg. Come to say goodbye as well?"

Dahlberg shifted on his feet. "No, actually, I...paid my last respects about a year ago. When she was first admitted."

This caused Velo to tilt his head. "You knew the end was near? I saw her medical reports and was a little startled...how did Rena last this long?"

"Well..." Dahlberg began. "When I made my visit, I told her that her life would come full circle before the end. She asked if that meant one last meeting with you...and I told her the truth." He stated it rather matter-of-factly.

Velo nodded, and looked away for a second. "Doesn't that break your rules? Letting people know something like that?"

Dahlberg shrugged. "I make the rules. I break them. I know when to make exceptions that won't throw anything out of order. Besides...I think Rena knew the answer anyways."

Velo suddenly got uncomfortable with the line of discussion and sought to re-direct it. "So why are you here then?"

"Just to tell you," Dahlberg answered as if there was no break in the flow of conversation. "That Stewart has given us the green light to open operations in Baltimore. Not that you would've taken 'no' for an answer, anyways, but for what it's worth, Stewart's in our corner."

Velo nodded. "Good. Anything else?"

"Nope. I'll leave you to yourself now." Dahlberg took a step forward, and in the middle of his second step the air around him rippled, and a second later he was gone.

Kristogar Velo looked around, then toward the sky. Times like this the universe could seem so vast, and he wondered what his "good fight" would end up meaning in the final analysis. Then he shook off the thoughts, re-focused, and returned to his life.

The Alfords' attorney says his clients refuse comment, and would like the media and public to reserve judgment until all the facts in the case are brought to light.

In more local news, former movie star and Baltimore native Serena Sullivan passed away today, less than a month after her 55th birthday. In 2000, she was diagnosed with lung cancer and given six months to live. However, less than a year later, the cancer appeared to be in remission, before reappearing again last year.

Most would remember Sullivan as Egyptian Smith, her pseudonym when she starred in a series of popular "blaxploitation" films in the '70s. By the end of the decade, however, she had quit the movie business and became a leading activist for a wide range of causes, including civil rights, children's rights and environmentalism. She also was one of the first celebrities to speak out on behalf of the rights of metahumans the world over.

Although she hadn't starred in a film in almost thirty years, a spot on the Walk of Fame was reserved for her last year, and--

Kristogar Velo clicked off the TV. He stood in darkness for a few moments, before feeling slender arms reach around from behind, and caress the front of his chest. He could feel her breath on the back of his neck.

"You're thinking about something," she stated.

"Yeah," Velo admitted. "I was just thinking about how deaths always happen in threes for me."

"Oh," she sounded apologetic. "I'm sorry. Were they close to you?"

Velo shook his head. "The first two were strangers. I never knew them. The third one...we weren't close. But she was special to me. I'll miss her."

The statement hung in the air for a few seconds until she spoke again. "Do you want to be left alone?"

Velo smiled with a sort of melancholy and shook his head again. "If I had to take a night off for every old friend who passes on, I would have only about three days a year in which to make new friends." He smiled more warmly now and turned around, and brought her close to himself. "Come on. Let's forget bad things." And the two of them then disappeared entirely into the darkness.

THE END

And that's that.

I did this story to see if there was anything worth saving here. I think the depressingly low amount of page views on this thread and otherwise apathetic reaction answer that one for me.

So later y'all.