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Another Note: Crime Scenes	By : Resting-Madness Category: Death Note > General Views: 2556 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't make money from this work of fiction. I don't own the realm of death note's creation like characters and plot, and world. None of it is mine.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Watari would have been proud today because Mello was being a good boy. The car rolled along with the rest of the traffic's lackluster pace, a fine red muscle car behaving like a modest family van. He found himself doing perfectly a lesson taught at Wammy's home that he once shunned as ridiculous because he wanted it done, and believed it to be done better, in his own way. But the basis of tailing someone is the same at its core. Follow discreetly until the end. Simple. But Mello liked to predict, to cut them off at the pass, he didn't feel that being a shadow fit in with him. He is the hunter and the unsub the prey, not all hunters give chase from directly behind, they kill you to your face. The car slowed to a stop at a red light where he waited physically, but mentally his mind raced on.
'The unsub is tailing us… and he's damned good at it too. This case keeps showing itself as simple, but we're thinking too hard about it. He's as plain as glass when you see him normally, he wouldn't set off any alarms. And even when he kills, it's done so simply and cleanly that you don't notice it until you find the mess. A commonly nobody, ignored. The man is the perfect shadow, out in the open for all to see but ignored because it's so common.' The car rolled on down the street under the traffic lights and past the busy public. Everyone looked like they were nothing special. This was a nightmare! How do you find the invisible man? Who, when wanting to, can actually be invisible?
Mello had a sudden daydream of the unsub springing up behind him as he's driving along, the faceless man is choking him out while he's calmly bringing the car to a full stop, there was no sense in crashing just because his life is in danger. 70 percent of the time a person who's planning on taking your life is out for the length of your suffering before the actual death so he saw no need to panic and crash when he could, not only live but, take down the dick in the process.
Despite the amused look on his face Mello glanced into the rear view mirror before looking over his shoulder in the space behind the passenger's seat.
"Mum, can I get a custard cake?"
Mello looks out the window at the mother and daughter who've stopped outside of a small convenience store. He looked for a space to park and wound up stationary several cars away from the shop; it was fine he has a pair of binoculars in the glove compartment and uses them to see across the distance beyond the large glass windows to directly into the mini-mart.
'What a fucking brat,' he thought unkindly watching the kid tug her mother all over the small store for snacks. Removing his cell phone from the empty seat beside him, he speed dialed Matt. "Stop playing video games and look something up for me," he smiled at Matt's protest that he wasn't doing any such thing, though Mello can clearly hear it in the background because, despite pausing it, the audio continued to play in the background and Matt likes to participate in real time with the volume of violence cranked at full. "You can get back to virtually saving the world once you're done helping do that in the real world, look up Ellis Quigley for me,"
"On it, I'll send you what I find,"
"Later," hanging up the phone Mello resumes watching the family, and they finally leave the building with a plastic bag of groceries.
He expected them to get back into their car and head for home but the mother pointed to a bench and left her daughter to sit and eat her snack cake while she walked across the street to another store. Was she out of her mind?
"Christ," he muttered.
Climbing out of the car he strides across the street over to the child. The tail was sure to sit at her left side so she wouldn't be alarmed by his scar. He found no need to talk to her so he pretended to look through his phone while he waited for Matt to get back to him with the information about Quigley, if there was any to be had. This was just a shot in the dark that could produce nothing useful or even interesting.
His cool teal gaze wasn't glued to the device, however, if the unsub is watching the child he could be somewhere in view. Plain as glass, maybe even standing inside a shop looking out the window at them. He knows that Mello is one of the investigators working the case, he may know to stay away with him sitting here like he is, and rather than aim for the kid he'll go for the mother.
'Shit,' Standing from the bench he looked down when the girl looked up at him because of his abrupt movement. "You should join your mother in the store, it isn't safe to sit out here by yourself,"
The little girl looked like she believed him too because her face was set on thoroughly spooked at the sight of him. He couldn't blame her, he's got red, purple, and white dead skin going from his hairline down to his jawline. Visually, he's a mess.
"I had an accident as a kid with a hot stove, and it's rude to stare. Go find your mother, now."
She shot up from the bench and ran across the street into the store where her mother had gone to shop alone; in her haste the cake she'd been eating was abandoned and stepped on during the fleeing departure.
'There's one crisis averted,' He looked at the phone buzzing in his hand.
Text - To the sum of a 50 dollar bill, I know what you're thinking: Holy fuck.
It seems that Mello owes Matt 50 dollars because that was exactly what he was thinking when he read the body of information sent to him. Ellis Quigley, Irishman. Age 31. Height 6'1". Weight 132 pounds. Former occupation Wesson funeral home, now works as a journalist for the Daily Mirror, under the name Ellis Quimby. But the interesting part of the small article is that Ellis Quigley used to have a twin brother, August Quigley age 13 years, who was murdered during a break in when the kids were alone in the middle of the day, in the spring of 1996.
'The unsub could have been the one who murdered Quimby's brother,' He looked across the street at the mother and child who are leaving the store, the young girl glanced him then hurried into the parked car to get away from the frightening stranger. 'Quimby could be the trigger. The killer could have found out that the other boy survived- or it's possible that Quimby was purposefully left alive for some reason, and now the unsub is coming to collect and is using the funeral home to hunt, and jog Quimby's memory.'
But there was also that need for misdirection the psycho so dearly loved. But this could be the plain of it, the shadow. The 'out in the open' Mello had been thinking about in the car. The door to the vehicle pulled open and Mello climbed inside.
Speed dialing Light's cell phone, he wasn't really sure what he'd planned to say. He needs to ask Quimby about the break in, and if he's with Light right now the new agent could ask him faster. But he's missing something, something doesn't fit with the situation. Why is the man going out of his way to kill other victims why not just kill the target outright? Could the man who'd broken into the Quigley home have actually only injured the young boy, and now August Quigley is seeking revenge against his brother? Was it possible?
"Hello?" Came Light on the other end of the phone.
"Legal," he used the alias incase Light is on speaker. "Are you with Quimby right now?"
"No, I just dropped him off at the newspaper. Why?"
"So he's at work then? Good. Tell him to stay there and go get him. Quimby had a twin brother who was murdered during a home invasion when he was a kid."
"Do you want me to ask him about it?"
Mello started the car and is now continuing to follow the young girl and her mother, they may still be victims after all. "No, I'll ask him. Just leave him at his house and stay with him,"
Light seemed reluctant to comply for some reason, but he eventually replied. "Sure. Send me the file,"
Mello sent him the article that Matt had found, ending the call afterwards. His phone fell onto the empty seat beside him, and he continued in his tailing.
0 0 0
For L, Near's words rang true, he was slipping and it was grating to realize it through having been told so. But, there came the motivation to prove the young detective wrong and so L set out to catch the mirror killer as well. He's got a dozen interesting, and some uninteresting but well paying jobs on his plate, so he certainly has room for this task. As of yesterday night he's gone over all of the gathered evidence and the facts compiled and by dawn's blooming blue and indigo light the great detective took a long drink from his coffee and began to plan over what to do with his conclusion.
0 0 0
"L," Light is currently at the newspaper office building waiting for Quimby to drive him home.
He would have gone back to the manor but with the state he'd left the journalist in after lunch, he wasn't sure if Quimby would be reinstated at his job or told to leave, but when he'd called the man asking where he was, he was told The Daily Mirror. The journalist wasn't waiting outside when Light had arrived, so there's a good chance he was given his old job back, or at least janitorial duties until his boss feels vindicated for his hurt feelings.
The up-incoming investigator didn't mind waiting, it gave him time to go home and grab a car, and after returning to the office building he took some time to do some research into what the 'M's have found out. It really explained how Quimby could be so nervous about being a part of all of this, he didn't mention anything about a dead brother much less that he's a twin. The skittish man must have really wanted to detach himself from the incident to leave out a major detail like this when he was being questioned. Don't ask, don't tell.
The two boys weren't entirely identical there were slight differences in their appearance, mostly in the nose and cut of their eyes. Quimby's are wide almonds and August's eyes are thin almonds, Quimby has a droopy nose and August an aquiline nose. But the boys twin in the mouth, and build, and facial structure. Quimby has a bit more weight on him, though. Their mother lives in Norfolk while their father lives in London. They're divorced, likely because of the death of their child. It's hard for families to stay together over things such as that. But let's say that August had lived and is seeking revenge against his family, wouldn't he just go after them? Why these other people? It's possible that something happened that only the boys know about since they were the ones who were home during the break in. And, if it's true, the reborn August is looking to terrorize his brother before taking his life.
Light checked his watch. It's getting late. He just ended his call with L, after telling him that he couldn't go to the hospital with him. The visit was not for any oppointed reason, but because L had invited him there for learning purposes. Calling Quimby directly to his cell phone instead of at the office he waited with patience for him to pick up.
"Yes?" He sounded a lot less depressed than earlier, but he also doesn't sound happy.
"This is Legal, are you at work?" asked the investigator.
Quimby sighed. "I've been allowed back, but my boss has some conditions and one of them is to give up the story."
"I'm not surprised," and he wasn't! Greed runs deep in humanity's veins especially when it comes to money.
"I know you told me not to, so I'm at a loss of what to do… any suggestions?"
"Give him the story," that was Light's sincere answer. "He wants your take, the unsub wants his story; in a way, they're two completely different things."
Quimby let out a relieved breath. "Thank goodness for you, I was beginning to count my days- certainly at work- you think I'll pass up life without work over death because I worked?" he sighed out a breath again. "But your suggestion helped, thank you."
Light hated to drop a hammer on the man's elated mood, but he had to. "Quimby, I need to talk to you. So when you leave work go to the parking lot and look for me, I'll give you a ride home."
Quimby had a long pause then asked. "Has something happened?"
Light wasn't going to give him time to think up a lie so he played it off. "Nothing major, we do have a very good lead, and plan to wait out the results of it… but to ensure your safety, I'm going to stay with you for the rest of today."
"Perfect! I mean, it's not good that this man is going after someone again, but if he does come to get me first… oh please let this all be over today,"
Light smiled. "I think the odds are good in our favor that he will be brought in tonight."
"My boss is eyeing me, I have to go." The journalist wished the agents good luck, and said a silent: luck for himself as well before hanging up.
0 0 0
The news anchors have lessened their resolve of trying to figure out what's going on with this new string of murders after the statement Light had given, they were satisfied that there was nothing to worry about, and have instead decided to focus on a new restaurant opening. Aah, the solitude of knowing someone else will take care of your problems.
Near is walking around in the large garden in the back of the house, it was good for his legs to move around more than the span of a room. His legs have always been an issue for him since he was a kid, under developed at birth he supposed. They look normal, a nice muscle mass is there but they just don't perform as well as they should when he walks or stands for too long. A freak sort of fatigue.
He tucked the tablet he's been watching the news reports on back into the messenger bag he's wearing around his chest, with the distraction of lesser news reports like stabbings, shootings, and fires or car accidents gone the young detective allowed his mind to wander. The late Spring grass felt soft under his feet, yielding easily to being crushed but strong enough to bounce right back up unfettered by the brief disturbance. The sky was beautifully cloudy, no gray in the white drifting puffs. Just a nice sunny day, no rain to wash away the sins of man nor to wash them in.
Near's thin finger twirled a lock of his hair around and around as thoughts swirled in his head like the blowing wind through his hair. The crime scene photos are bugging him. He's negated the messages that the unsub has been writing on them, they're meaningless to the case, he can talk circles around them and it would mean nothing important to anyone unless the message was intended for them. They are not the police and they are not the unsub's truly intended victim.
'So, who is?' wondered the teen. 'Why kill twins unless you are a twin, or were… The first murder wasn't look alike, the children were actual twins. The first murder is the most important in any case because along the way something in the victimology changes, but small changes in order to throw off the police investigation while the underlying reason remains once they make the next kill.'
The wind blew a warm draft through the long stretch of yard; the feeling is of early summer making its presence known. Time is passing at a reasonable pace, but when you're investigating a string of murders every day seems like a year of wasted time.
'Time… How long has the killer been sitting with the need to kill before finally acting on it? What about the Talbotts made him strike?'
Near's thoughts went back to when he was younger and over all the things he's done that caused Mello to lash out at him. It was usually something he was unaware of, maybe he'd answered a question in class a little too promptly when it was Mello who had wanted to answer. Or sometimes he'd be keeping to himself, purposefully to avoid incidents of hostility, but that would set the chocolate loving blond off as well. Maybe some people are just set out to have it in for you? Near could not think of a single thing he's ever done to warrant the hostile behavior, especially when he wanted to get along with Mello. He liked him. Was that it? Deep down Mello knew his feelings and wanted no part of it so he would lash out to ensure zero advances?
That's not enough to hate someone, not enough to kill. So why kill them just because they were twins? Wondered the young detective.
'Is the unsub a twin? Had he killed his sibling? Were the Talbott children like he and his alleged twin? If so, what were the kids doing to make him upset?' Near stuck his hand into his pocket pulling out a small rabbit toy. He smiled at the soft little lop-eared animal, the close up of it made it seem as though it was a larger, a real rabbit that could hop along on the grass.
The toy bobbed up and down at the teen's instruction then it stilled. Near knelt down and removed his tablet from the bag. 'If the unsub is a twin and something happened to his brother or sister, it would be documented in the death records,'
His fingers speed around the keyboard on the screen and an array of names flew past his vision stopping at his command on one name: AUGUST QUIGLEY. Murdered at age 13 during a home invasion on April 24th, 1996. The man who'd invaded the home, Walt Hobart, was caught four days later when the stolen items were sent to a pawn shop and the shop owner identified him to the police. Hobart was found dead in 2012 of a heart attack. The family broke up years later. The brother who lived through the invasion was Ellis Quigley, who worked at the Wesson cemetery but was fired upon the changing of management. Now under the name of Ellis Quimby, he works for the local newspaper The Daily Mirror.
It was surprising to find out that was for sure, but Near isn't all that shocked that the man would withhold information like that. It was 18 years ago, he's started a new life as a new man, and likely wanted to distance himself from a terrible memory. But why change his name? Could a memory be so terrible let that one have to disassociate oneself so completely?
'Hobart was likely killed by Kira, if the heart attack was out of the blue.' Thought the detective.
With the way Mello and Matt spirited away into the hall earlier in the day, it's highly likely that they have already discovered this information. Near does not like being behind, it's unsettling to lose, just as it's unsettling to win but to have your victory walk free and amongst you like a peer. Turning off the device he straightened up from his kneel but shuddered back to a seat on the grass. He's pushed himself a bit too hard. He could have called for Gevanni but he'd rather avoid the pity party, and honestly he doesn't need help. With a moment's rest he'll be back on his feet and back inside. Good thing it's such a nice day.
A lovely day to plan for the kill.
0 0 0
Quimby waved when seeing Light waiting outside the newspaper office for him. Walking over he pulled open the door of a modest but beautiful town car; giving a low whistle once Light started the engine he looked round the interior with awe.
"I was beginning to think you got the short end of the stick, always having to tend to me over the others and the policeman who tail me everywhere," he looked over his shoulder to where a cop car is currently parked in hidden sight. "But, this sweet car says otherwise, should I be flattered that they have an elite member of the bureau as my personal attendant?" he grinned. "I feel bad about my usual, though; can't imagine what they must think if this killer keeps slipping past him."
"Yeah," Light wasn't sure if he should dissolve the journalist's good mood now or wait until they've reached his home. Mello told him not to say anything but he couldn't just stay quiet, he's a part of the team too. And, as he'd suspected, all the attention seems to be going to Quimby's head.
And there's always that off chance that Quimby will run if his past is presented to him in an unflattering way, namely if the people saying they'll protect him are accusing him of harboring his allegedly dead brother, who may be killing people to first make his twin, who'd survived the invasion, famous before he kills him as the final victim. The final act of revenge for whatever traumas he's suffered as a ghost.
The undercover officer moved his vehicle along the streets at a slower pace than the town car. He knew it as protocol to do so. Light became hyper aware of his surroundings when driving. He's an excellent driver, but really it's too distracting for him to think and watch other drivers behavior. In other words, driving was like shutting down everything else to focus on one task. Driving. It doesn't help it that he's never driven in this country before. Wheel on the wrong side, and driving on the wrong side. But he wasn't going to trouble the driver at the manor when he had important things to discuss.
The car came to stop at the red light. Traffic was light this evening, it almost seemed that they were merely on a pleasant joyride than a possible interrogation.
Light chose that time to bring up the article. "So, your childhood, it was pretty normal?"
"In comparison to now, I should say so,"
"No troubles at home?"
Quimby snickered at that. "Aside from fighting for good grades from my teachers, I'd lived a pretty normal life."
"I see… Was there any change after your brother's murder?"
It came off cruel to just say it like that, but if he's learned anything from L, it's that you have to hit below the belt to see what honest answer will cross a person's face rather than the lie that would come out past their lips on each they begin to sense that something was coming. An imagine of L flashed through Light's memory so quickly he almost missed it. He and L, drenched and standing on a rooftop in the rain. Serious expressions on both of their faces, so it was unlikely a pleasant memory of some hidden tryst of theirs while they worked on a case. A car horn honked behind them alerting him to drive.
"Why would you ask such a question?" Quimby wondered. "What brother?"
'Dammit, I allowed myself to get distracted, I didn't see his reaction!' Light's grip on the wheel clenched as he steadied himself at the wheel. What's worse is driving isn't to blame but his own muddy memory creeping up on him again. He was beginning to wonder what side effects were in those painkillers he's taking for the bullet wounds. A loss of appetite, erectile dysfunction, pain in the lower back, and hallucinations of a memory which may or may not have actually happened.
"Quimby, I'm not asking because your in any sort of trouble about it, at the most we're angry because you withheld information that could have helped us in solving the case." Light tried making his tone light and companionable, compared to the truth of the matter that he is very much annoyed with the timid man. "Now, why didn't you tell us or the police about your brother?"
Quimby remained quiet, his gaze nervously went out the window as the city moved by while standing still. It felt just like how his mind is right now. The murders, the fear, the power. It was all too much, where was the gray area and when could he get there?
"Quimby… tell me about the break in,"
The softness in the young man's voice didn't match the cold gaze in his honey brown eyes, he looked at the journalist as if he were prey and he, Light, a snake ready to strike if the little rabbit made one wrong move.
Quimby was met up within the men's room back at work not fifteen minutes before this little interrogation ride home. He's never seen the man doing this to him, so to meet eyes with his cold hard, almost blind gaze through the large mirror sent him into a tailspin of emotions. Run. Hide. Bluff bravery and ask him why he's doing any of this? He was at a loss. But the unknown subject broke the stand-off by approaching him with a little piece of paper. It read: The finale.
Quimby paled and his voice squeezed. "Mine?"
The man with the bland face that grinned without joy, grinned without any of it showing that it would or could reach his eyes and he reached behind his back and produced a long knife which he handed to Ellis Quimby's quivering hand. And just as calmly and silently as he'd entered the restroom does the man walk out leaving Quimby alone and confused.
But sitting here in the car now, being questioned about August, he knows what the short message meant. He's close to being caught, if there's any chance of this progressing they need to create delays of that capture. But the question still remained of what's going to happen to him once this is all over? Will he be killed or rewarded for his services? The murderous sicko would fill out the last of the chapters with Quimby's death.
"Mr. Quimby?" Light pressed.
"August only wanted to protect me…" began the journalist. "Not from any particular harm, but in general... He was like that our whole lives."
He told Light about how they'd come home after school laughing and ribbing each other about this and that, they didn't notice that the back door through the laundry room had been left opened. They didn't notice that the living room was in a state of disarray due to having gone into the kitchen for a snack.
"We'd started to go upstairs but I turned around because I'd spilled some milk on the bottom two, I'd gone to get napkins to clean it up and while I was tending to that, my brother was upstairs being murdered. I knew nothing about it," the journalist's fingers worried themselves into little knots as he spoke, "It was when I'd thrown out the napkins that I noticed the living room and went in looking around,"
Quimby told him that the man slipped out just as quietly as he'd been inside the home, he didn't hear or see anyone, he just picked up the mess and ate his snack in front of the television.
"August bled out, all alone up there and I knew nothing about it," he sniffled, "I could have saved him, called the police and ambulance, my parents even! But I was blind," He looked at Light in the eyes, desperate for the younger man to understand. "I was useless to him,"
Light didn't know what to say, he's never heard such a story before. He could only imagine what the boys' parents could have thought. To come home and find one child dead while the other sits idly sipping milk and eating cookies, or worse, he's holding his dead brother.
"What did your parents say?" He shot a glance at the man while continuing to drive them to his home.
"They were mortified… They could barely bring themselves to look at me; and the police were told about the break in, but my parents lied that August was alone when it happened- a final act of love, I'd supposed. Because once it was all said and done they sent me away to live with my grandmother here in Winchester. She didn't know why, and later on in the years I was told about my parents' divorce. But neither came for me…" He looked at Light with a small and sad smile, a smile that consists of old tears and a long since dead self-loathing. "I had pains too, I found him there five minutes before my parents got home… They weren't there to protect us, how do they think I felt about that?"
Light could imagine. If he had found Saiyu dead in her bedroom one afternoon and he was at home but could do nothing, had known nothing until it was too late… He would be devastated. He wouldn't be the same. Knowing now that his sister is so damaged is too much to bare right now, because he can't do anything for her. She must feel so all alone in that catatonic state.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that," And Light meant that. The man could have been 7 or 70-years-old it's just not something you get over easily- especially when you're half of another person.
"Do you think this is being done by the man who killed August?" Quimby paled, he knew if this was the same man he'd be killed for sure. And to think he'd trusted that he'd be ok by the end. Was willing to understand this killer's own pain and even help him with his desire to be noticed.
The man hadn't noticed him that day he'd broken into the Quigley home, it was a miracle of a mistake and a curse. Had he not spilled his drink, had he not gone upstairs, August wouldn't be the only corpse, or perhaps... he'd of been fine. The robber, because August's murder was a sort of afterthought seeing how much jewelry and trinkets were stolen, would have seen the family at the procession grieving the lost child, and had the killer been there he would notice the knock-off of a ghost standing beside his parents, put one and two together then come after him. But why wait so long?
Light, not knowing Quimby's thoughts, answered his question. "They caught the man who broke in a while afterwards, you must have read the story in the paper… He died of a heart attack in prison a couple years back."
Quimby looked relieved then sick all over again.
"Do you think your brother survived?" Light asked casually, as if he were conspiring with Quimby to make his feelings ease up on him. Come clean, get it out in the open. Admit to something just between friends.
Quimby blinked. 'He thinks I could have saved August, but that I waited for him to die…'
"And im curious about something," Light was full of verbal surprises, so the journalist couldn't imagine what more there could be. "When were you able to get over your brother's death?"
He was not expecting that. "Do you ever get over that sort of the thing?" Quimby wondered. "Even if it's someone else's death, or body, it affects me… the dead creeps me out."
"I'm sorry to hear that, it's good to have empathy but not if it haunts you personally," Light added softly. "But you tried to deny your brother's existence before I told you what we know. It kind of conflicts with your grief."
"Does it?" Quimby glanced at Light then out the window. "You know, this very road makes me nervous, there are many accidents here. A kid was once hit by a car, there was a cross right over there," he points, "and did you hear about the most recent one?"
Light wondered what was with the sudden change in subjects, but he could play along. "No. When was it?"
"Right now,"
Quimby grabbed the wheel giving it a hard jerk to the right; his leg swung over to the driver's side enabling him to stomp his foot down onto Light's to further excel the spinning vehicle. The car snapped to an abrupt halt from its cyclonic spin when hitting a singular guard post lining the street from the sidewalk. Light, who'd been bracing himself during the ordeal, was knocked unconscious by the Airbag deploying once the car made its final jolt before it pause; however, he didn't drift off without first catching a glimpse of Quimby's face as he'd exited the smashed vehicle, unharmed by it all, and looking at his driver with disgust. Damn it all, the unsub got to him...
X X X
Commentary: *sigh* oh the legend of this chapter... I begin beautifully typing it out on my laptop, I save it, and the next day I go to type stuff more and my laptop gave me the finger because it did not even pretend to come on. And I treat the thing like it's made of glass, so I'm sitting pissy for a hard few days wondering what the hell, when I remember my tablet. And so with many hardships and needlessly correcting auto spelling I was able to finish. I should be able to get a new laptop hopefully by the end of this month or the middle of the next. I am a tablet novice, I only bought one just last year to watch movies on. I need a laptop because typing and copying and what not blows like this ahaha.
Thank you for reading, new readers and old, thank you for reviews, favorites and alerts, every bit counts to being a well read writer and I'm still aiming for being a professional at this, so thank you.
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