my thoughts you can't decode (rp for coatandscarf)

[asthenoseonyourface]

John was relatively silent on the way to the office, and only slightly more helpful, offering Randy his most innocuous hand out of the cab. Using his key to open the gate, he led her upstairs to find the door to the office wide open and his twin standing there, glaring daggers at him.

"You used...the fire escape. To ditch a client." Jock intoned.

"I got bored." John brushed off, giving him a little shove as he breezed past to make room for Randy.

"You used the fire escape to ditch a client...who's your friend?"

"I had time, I'm not that late...and Randy's here 'cause I want her here."

"The appointment was at two! It's now quarter to three!" Jock protested, finally offering Randy a nod. "Hey, Rand...sorry for my brother, he's an ass, feel free to tell him to fuck off and I'll keep him locked in the basement so he can't bother you."

"Be nice, I gave her my coffee!"

Jock stopped dead in his tracks, gaping after his brother as John sauntered into the main office area, motioning for Randy to follow him...and as she did, she saw John in disguise, playing the role of his brother to utter perfection.

"Mr. Howard? John Riley, I'm so sorry to keep you waiting." he enthused with a very warm, genuine smile that even reached his eyes...nearly. Shaking the hand of the older man sitting in a chair in front of Jacob's desk, he gestured as Randy entered the room. "This is my colleague, Doctor Randy Hughes, Jacob's...yeah, there he is."

Trailing behind, Jock glared at John and mouthed I'll kill you later when the client wasn't looking.

John just flashed his brightest smile, perching on the edge of Jock's desk while Jock himself slid a chair out for Randy obligingly.

"So, Mr. Howard, I see that you're here about your youngest nephew's murder?"

"Er...how did you know that? Is there a file?..."

John shook his head. "Didn't read it, sir...I saw it."

Comments

[coatandscarf]

That John had been nothing but polite in the cab, even giving her his coffee when she realized she'd left hers behind. She was going to decline but he insisted, assuring her that he had nothing that could spread to her biologically from it. He even held a hand out to her to get out of the cab, and pushed past Jacob to give her some room.

Evidently, John giving up his coffee was a big deal, because Jacob froze in his tracks at the declaration. Quietly, Randy simply took a sip from the cup and stepped after John, observing the transformation that took place. Suddenly, he was behaving... normally. Almost to perfection, at that. The introduction of being his colleague amused her, but what better way to explain her presence than by doing that. She smiled in greeting, and thanked Jacob for the chair, taking a seat gratefully as she hooked the cane on the back of it.

When John declared he hadn't seen the file yet, Randy looked up and towards Jacob. Without a word, he handed over the file, which she took with a silent 'thank you'. While she opened the file, she looked over Mr. Howard. Middle-class, just past middle age. Used to play sports, but had let himself go as of late, something he still wasn't used to. Married, and happily so. But right then, he was clearly wracked with worry.

"Cops tell me it was an accident, but it wasn't! They threatened me, Mr. Riley. They threatened they'd kill my entire family unless I listened. I should have *listened*. Oh God, it's all my fault!"

With that declaration, Randy looked over the pictures of the dead body, keeping her expression even. Drowned in a pool. An accident that happened too often for Randy's liking. Everything seemed to point towards an accident, but something caught Randy's attention. She looked up and motioned to Jacob for a magnifying glass. Having it handed to her, she carefully inspected along the boy's ankle, and her skin paled. The boy had drowned alright, but it wasn't an accident. He'd been held there. By a man.

[asthenoseonyourface]

Jock watched over Randy's shoulder, seeing from her reaction that she had spotted something. Looking up at John, he nodded.

"Focus, Johnnycake."

Instantly, John's mask collapsed, leaving the detached man Randy knew.

"Thank God, these social exercises are boring." he sighed, crossing his arms. "Sorry to say, Mr. Howard, but that's what dealing with the mob will get you."

"I BEG your pardon?!?!"

"Foil under the thumbnail, stains at the quick, lotto scratchers. Crosshatch orange print on that paper in your lapel pocket, lotto draw ticket. Dog dung on your left rear heel...you could have stepped in it somewhere at home, but no hair on your clothes, you don't own one. Could be your neighborhood, anywhere really, but no grass stains, and you'd have seen it on a sidewalk. Ergo, dog racing. You have a gambling problem, sir, and my guess? More than a few bad debts in back room poker games...or blackjack, any illegal casino, really, smart enough to single you out for a mark with a monkey on his back. You didn't pay, so your nephew died to scare the cash out of you."

He paused for breath, turning to Randy. "Which brings me to you, Doctor Adler: what can you tell from the autopsy photos?"

[coatandscarf]

For a moment, Randy just looked up at him, her mouth slightly open as she went through all the things he just had. Shutting her jaw, she looked over at Mr. Howard, her gaze looking him over. Everything he'd just pointed out, she suddenly saw. How on earth did he notice all that, and make the connections so quickly?

Jacob cleared his throat a bit, pulling Randy back to reality. "Uh, autopsy photos, right. Well, ME pointed out a few things. The boy did drown. Water in his lungs make that fairly obvious. But they're wrong on the why. ME put down the bruising on the ankle as a twist, implying that he twisted his ankle and fell into the pool." Randy shook her head, handing John the file and the magnifying glass. "Those aren't the bruises from a twist. He didn't fall into the pool, John. Those are the bruises of fingers. Someone... held him underwater. Kid struggled, but from the size of the bruises, that was an adult man."

The kid never had a chance.

God, there were some monsters in this world.

[asthenoseonyourface]

John checked her assertion against the photo, raising his eyebrow at her before slamming the file shut.

"Adequate." he asserted, passing the file back to Jock.

"Translate: remarkable work, Doctor." Jock corrected, shooting his twin a baleful look, earning a glare for his trouble. Turning back to Mr. Howard, he nodded. "We'll take your case, sir."

"I never said I'd take it." John protested.

"Take the case, and I'll take you to a fresh crime scene...you can even bring your new pet doctor if she wants to go."

"I'll take the case."

[coatandscarf]

Adequate, eh? Nevermind that the original ME missed it entirely. The translation, however, cleared up a few things for Randy. John liked to understate things. So when he responded to things that may have impressed him, or at least satisfied him, he made it seem like it was nothing at all. A reflex to make himself seem smarter, or to make others feel stupid. Interesting. She wondered if he was aware that he did that.

Her brows dropped into a frown at Jacob's term for her, although it passed quickly. 'New pet doctor'? Who the *hell* did he think he was?

When he said he'd take the job though, the idea of being included in this actually... excited her. Dear God, what had she gotten herself into? She was actually looking *forward* to this.

[asthenoseonyourface]

Jacob shot Randy an apologetic look, shrugging. He couldn't help it, the situation was awkward...John didn't really have friends, and got snippy about throwing the word around. Add that he was damn near asexual as far as they had ever seen, and she was...what? The Watson to his Sherlock?

John just grinned, a real smile as he pumped a fist in the air, earning a sigh from Jock and a horrified look from the client.

"Yes!!! Jock, do the business stuff I hate." he instructed, flashing Randy a feral, but very real smile. "You, Doctor Adler, are with me. We have a crime scene and a body to study."

He moved towards her, excitement in his eyes. "Do you want to say it? You can say it if you want."

"What, 'the game is afoot?'" Jock snorted.

John spun around, stamping his foot and snarling.

"ASSHOLE!"

Jock just smirked at John's childish fury.

[coatandscarf]

Good God, his smile. For that's exactly what it was. However wild it was, it *was* a smile, and it lit up his face like a child's did on Christmas morning.

When he shifted to stand before her, he asked her with excitement if she wanted to say it. Immediately, she knew what he meant and with a smirk, was about to say it.

Instead, Jacob shot out the phrase she had been thinking, earning him the fury of his brother. On instinct, she rose to her feet, automatically grabbing her case. Standing behind him, she whispered so only he could hear. "'I am lost without my Boswell. And this promises to be interesting. It would be a pity to miss it.'"

She drew away without another word then, turning only to grab the file before limping away to the exit.

[asthenoseonyourface]

The whisper caught his ear, and the words...did something else, sizzled through him like an electric current. Turning sharply, he watched her walk towards the door...

And for a second, he couldn't breathe. For a second, he saw...wasn't sure just what he saw, but it was everything, and it was only her. He felt flushed and jittery and...and wild. He wanted to do something ridiculous, something insane, something...something like...

"John?" Jock asked slowly, watching his brother stare after Randy with something he never thought he'd see...something like awareness. "You okay?"

Startled from his reverie, John shook himself and huffed at his brother. "Of course I'm okay, sure I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be okay?"

Gathering himself, John hesitated...then turned up the collar of his jacket with a roll of his shoulders before he moved to follow Randy outside.

[coatandscarf]

Randy was floored to find that there had been no argument from the coroner's office when they requested to see Michael Howard's body. The investigation was swift, proving Randy correct and with John concluding the range of the man's height based on the size of hand.

The scene had been about as expected. Well, for her anyway: she'd see nothing, and John would see everything. For John, there was a story in every corner. Randy was glad she was quick on her phone, because her thumbs threatened to fall off by the time he was done.

By the time they were done with both, it was mid afternoon and her stomach was growling in protest. She practically had to drag him into the nearest restaurant, telling him they could compare notes over food, but that she refused to go forward without a meal in her stomach or a place to sit down for awhile.

Her leg immediately reminded her why she had been avoiding standing for long periods of time, and she winced as it protested when she sat down. She rubbed her leg as she looked at the menu, a smile spreading on her lips. Chinese and Thai. She was in heaven. When the waitress arrived, she ordered a Thai tea and a Chicken Lo Mein. She'd been craving noodles for days now, might as well get her fix now. Her glance went over towards John expectantly, waiting to see what he would order.

[coatandscarf]

Randy nodded in agreement with his analysis. "The sort of money that doesn't happen at a dog track. Or, at least, in the back rooms of a dog track. Making it personal? Could this be more than just your client at work? Like, could it be the whole family was involved?"

The woman arrived then, with a pair of spring rolls and her tea. Randy immediately stirred the tea up and took a sip, nodding in approval. She then grabbed one of the spring rolls, not bothering to prompt him to take the other one. If she did, he'd only decline it. He'd know from her look that she wanted him to eat the other one anyway.

[asthenoseonyourface]

"Or he just pissed off the wrong bloke." John sighed, the slang oddly not sounding strange with his American accent. Steepling his fingers, he pressed them to his lips with a sigh. "No, if the family was involved, he'd never have come to the office alone. This isn't just a debt collection, this is a vendetta."

He paused, looking to Randy again, feeling less shaky about it this time.

"You're a mobster. Someone makes you so angry you kill a young boy to make him pay for it. What did he do to you?"

[coatandscarf]

Randy shrugged, finishing off her spring roll. She could think again, without the headache that was threatening to overwhelm her. "Stole my girl? Insulted my family? Screwed me out of a business deal? It could be a multitude of things, but... considering it was a kid who was the first target, that tells me it's personal. Combination of personal *and* pissing off the wrong bloke."

[asthenoseonyourface]

John made a face at her use of language, shaking his head.

"Don't say 'bloke,' Yanks should never say 'bloke.'" he muttered, sinking deep into thought again. Personal, pissing someone off, child murder...this was one of his problems, human psychology was pretty basic, but emotional motives could be tricky. He understood crimes of passion, but the impetus behind them...

He was running through scenarios in his head as Randy finished her spring roll. When she was done, she found her plate mysteriously empty.

When she looked up again, she found John chewing while thinking, and no sign of the spring roll.

[coatandscarf]

She found herself grinning as the other spring roll mysteriously went missing from her plate. Exactly as she expected. If she'd said anything, he wouldn't have touched it. Because she hadn't...

She'd keep this in mind for the future. And remember to order two of something if she really wanted one.

"You know, I did live in London for a few years, when I was finishing med school in the Navy. I *did* pick up some terminology there. And besides, you just said it. What makes you exempt from the 'Yanks should never say 'bloke' rule?"

[asthenoseonyourface]

Swallowing, John scowled. "You were born here, I wasn't." he pointed out pragmatically. "Came to the US when I was four, I was born in Dublin."

[coatandscarf]

Randy scoffed, the grin not quite fading. "But my dear chap, that means I spent more of my life in the Motherland than you did," she quipped, doing a spot on English accent as she spoke. "And of course you were born in Dublin: you are a *Riley*! To say you weren't a proper Irishman would be insulting!"

[asthenoseonyourface]

John raised an eyebrow...Blackpool, west end, no deviation. In spite of himself, the corner of his mouth twitched up before returning to normal.

"Swaeet Moother Maerie..." he sighed in a perfect imitation of his own mother's thick Irish brogue, shaking his head before rubbing his hands over his face...and somehow, as he did, came away chewing again as his hands dropped to the table, licking away a scrap of cabbage that clung to his bottom lip.

[asthenoseonyourface]

Still another piece of food vanished from her plate as she thought to herself, with no sign it had been stolen other than John chewing or John licking something off his lips, or in one case John reaching for the green tea he'd ordered to take a sip and wash something down.

"Could be it was both...a warning and a dispute over payment." John suggested, phone buzzing again as he reached for it.

Normally I would not encourage promiscuous behavior, but progress is progress. Get busy. Do the wild thang. JUST DON'T MAKE ME YOUR WINGMAN, IT'S GROSS.

Frowning hard at his phone, John sent a text back as he spoke. "Taken compensation out in the form of favors? Could be there was something he wasn't willing to do."

And you call ME crazy?!?

[coatandscarf]

"Well, that might be the original cause for the warning. Then it got out of control?" Randy shook her head a bit, speaking between bites. Whatever he was texting about, he clearly wasn't pleased about it.

"So he was a hitman? Paid them back by taking on jobs? I can see that, to a degree. He has some moral fiber in him, judging by the happy state of his marriage, so I can imagine he'd draw the line somewhere if they asked him to do something."

[asthenoseonyourface]

John smirked, shaking his head as he held his phone this time, waiting for his sister's text. "Oh, he's happy all right...but it's not his wife that's doing the job."

I'm not crazy, you idiot! Experiment: ask her if she's got a boyfriend. BE DISCREET. Analyze her response.

John frowned darkly at his phone, but pocketed it with a sigh. Discreet...he had no idea how to be discreet! And it was pointless anyway.

Janie was stupid. Less stupid than most, but still stupid.

"Man's got a mistress, long-standing." John rattled off. "He doesn't even wear his wedding band anymore, that ring is at least five years too new to be his original ring. Answer, gift from a mistress, another long-standing relationship...healthy, considering, and the absence of a wedding band suggests either his marriage is so bad it no longer matters...or that his wife is permissive of the affair for her own reasons, quite likely she's having one of her own. Inclined to suspect the latter, based on your own assertions regarding the state of his love life. After all, if he's that happy cheating on his wife, he can't be hiding too much from her."

He paused, then regarded her with cool calculation as he spied an opening.

"Would you be happy if your boyfriend did the same?"

[coatandscarf]

Randy frowned a bit, going over how things seemed to her in her mind. She pursed her lips a bit, thinking to herself, listening to him as he began to rattle off his deductions.

"Counterpoint. It is his wedding band. He's gained weight since they've been married, a common thing to happen in a happy marriage, so a new ring is necessary because his fingers are fatter than when they were originally married." She stopped then, realizing what he just asked her. "Wait, what? Would I be happy if my boyfriend had a mistress and was cheating on me?" She scoffed. "Hell no. I'd hit him so hard with my cane I'd never see it again because it'd be shoved so far up---" She cleared her throat, shaking her head. "Anyway, no. I would definitely *not* be happy."

[asthenoseonyourface]

Would I be happy if my boyfriend had a mistress...

Not if I had a boyfriend. She was attached...well. Well.

Suddenly he felt clearer and he didn't like it. It was a dark, sharp, nasty sort of clarity, the kind he usually had before he did something that got him picked up by the cops for vandalism or assault or holding or any of the things that Jane usually had to make sure he wasn't tried for.

"Ring would have been resized if that was the case." John pointed out tersely, turning back to his phone so he wouldn't have to look at Randy.

She's got a boyfriend. And now I feel like misbehaving.

"You also need to look at his clothes." John went on. "He's--"

His phone buzzed back immediately, prompting him to check it.

DONT. UR WRONG.

John frowned, blinking. The language was right, and yet...

"So," he went on slowly, "you do have a boyfriend, then?"

[coatandscarf]

Whatever she'd said in her analysis, he clearly didn't like it. The thought made her smirk as she watched him look down at his phone and virtually anything else but her. Jealous sort, wasn't he? Probably possessive, too. She'd have to keep that in mind.

Whatever he was going to say about his clothing was cut off by the text. Whatever the text said cut off his train of thought entirely, as he directly asked her about a boyfriend.

"'My dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes. You really did it very well. You took me in completely,'" she said without thinking. Her eyes widened then, and she shifted her chair back to rise from the table. "E-excuse me." She hurried past the various tables then, pressing past the swinging door in the back of the room, seeking out the safety of the bathroom. For the love of God, why did she just *say* that? What was she *thinking*?

[asthenoseonyourface]

His gaze shot up again, and that trail of light running up his spine was stronger this time, came more readily. His eyes locked with hers, and that wild feeling took his breath again...ants under his skin, but it was everywhere now, no place where she was touching him to calm it, still the electricity sizzling through him...

She was gone in an instant, and John nearly, nearly stood to follow her. He didn't know what it meant, what he was feeling...what he was supposed to do, save to push it all aside and go back to work like before.

Except he was stuck, and he needed Randy's help. Randy, who was upset again (what had he done?) and not in the room (bathroom, likely, but he wasn't going after her, not after what happened the last time he walked into the ladies' room).

This was a problem.

[coatandscarf]

She stood there for awhile, leaning over the edge of the sink as she composed her thoughts. Did she really just say that? The implication that she wanted him?

God, did she want him. Those eyes, those lips, that endless neck. Even his fingers were fascinating to her. Did they ever end?

But it was lunacy. She was a broken woman, a woman with no desire for any sort of contact from a man...

...And he was a man that didn't even consider himself one.

It was lunacy. Absolute lunacy. Yet there was no other way to describe it, this dance that the two of them had started just the day before. It was lunacy, but there was definitely something *there*, which was downright mad, if you thought about it. What could he possibly give her? He didn't even feel, from what he told her. Nevermind the look in his eyes when she quoted Scandal, never mind the racing of his pulse, or the...

She splashed water on her face and shook her head. No. She had to stop thinking about John Riley. This was lunacy. She couldn't do this. Drying her face carefully, she tossed it out before opening the door to step outside.

She froze in her tracks as she realized that the lunacy she'd been thinking about was standing before her, catching her completely off guard. "...Hi?"