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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
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Matt rolled over in the bed as an attempt to find a more comofortable position to game in; after he and Mello finished in the shower, then a bit of round-two in bed, he caught himself waking up from having slept for only a moment; but his busy mind wouldn't allow his being straight knocked out as Mello is.
And, upon his rolling over, Matt found himself freed of Mello's spooning which left him free to leave the bed and get some work done. While playing his game, he'd been thinking that he should give Mello a break in the morning, which meant he'd need to get a few things done first. Putting the fourth installment of Silent Hill on pause by leaving Henry in his apartment; he gets out of bed, then grabs his boxers and shirt to slip on. Once dressed he then trudged over to the desk to grab his laptop before leaving the room.
There are two libraries in the manor, and each of them have a copy/printer/fax machine. Matt walked to the east wing; with his attention back on his handheld. The light is sort of comforting in the dimly lit hall, and it's helping with keeping his nerves in check should one of the help pop out and surprise him without meaning to. It had him wondering how long it takes a person to get used to being waited on hand and foot? Probably not very, if one wasn't the type to prefer solitude over company.
Glancing up now and then while he walked, he stopped when reaching the designated door; turning the knob, he paused before pushing it open entirely. With Matt's controlling him; Henry powers through the yard of an abandoned orphanage, and only when he's sure his character is safe from certain death, did Matt continue into the library.
Gasping from startle, that had him stepping back a hair too; Matt's mind went numb as he realized who it was that's occupying the room he'd just entered- and aided in spooking him. He'd seen the likeness potrayed by Wammy's resident nutcase, but he'd never seen the man in person before. And there, sitting crouched at a writing desk, in a Victiorian wing chair, is L. The L! His boss! Well, his former boss, since Mello and he left the school then joined up with a mafia syndicate in Los Angeles.
'Holy shit... What do I do?' He wondered in a panic.
How can he not panic?! They may have been called in to live in the man's mansion to work the case, but he could just be short-handed while he's handling things with Kira. Deep down, L could be pissed that he and Mello left. They'd betrayed the school in a way. They could be scum. Cast aways. No greater than a steaming pile of shit. Not to mention the man wanted to chew him out for hacking that brat's account. Better to save the lead for breakfast.
Raising a hand to apologize for barging in; he begins backing out of the room, his left hand staggered for the knob without success. "S.. sorry. I'll use the one downstairs."
L twirled the taffy around on his tongue by spinning the stick so it moved, and he could continue whittling away at the sweet to remove the flavor from it. He offered the agent a side-long glance before yanking his treat out from between his lips. "It's" And he paused as though he had to take a minute in order to get it right. "Matt, correct?"
"Hmm?" He had to ask; having somewhat left the room, he almost didn't hear the man's quietly spoken words. "Oh. Yeah, I'm Matt." Not sure what was expected beyond that, he waits at the door.
"It's nice to meet you, Matt." The sweet cherry flavor wafted around the room as L spoke. "Light would greet you, if he could, but he's asleep over there." He nods his head over by a table. "Medicated. He won't be disturbing you." Removing the taffy with an audible pop; he continued speaking. "Feel free to use the house as if it were your own."
Taking that as an invitation not to walk all the way downstairs, Matt inched over to the photocopier. Humiliated as he wished that he'd dressed to the teeth, rather than being seen in boxers and an old undershirt; Matt asked. "It won't bother you? I only have to make a dozen copies, and then I'll be out of your hair." He opens his laptop, setting it down on the desk beside the machine.
"I'm a night owl; an early bird; and an afternoon creeper." He hummed his pleasure when returning the taffy into his mouth, or maybe it was a thoughtful sound to follow up his next words. "They should have an actual saying for the afternoon." He muttered to himself.
"Don't you sleep at all?" Matt wondered out loud; and surely if the room were much more illuminated than by the dull glow of a simple laptop screen, and mini desk light, he could never carry on a conversation with this stranger of a much greater standing. Kira was another story.
He looked at the ex-murderer thinking he'd be a great poster-child for hangovers with how his upperhalf is sprawled over the table, his head is resting on his bent arm. Matt was curious as to why Kira didn't go into one of the rooms, if he's blacked out on medication?
Looking from Matt to over his shoulder at Light, L follows his train of thought and comments. "He thought that if I was working, he'd work, too; but... his will wasn't stronger than the pill."
Matt laughed uneasily at that. L may have been talking about prescribed medication, but the comment was only too true. Hooking the HDMI cord into his laptop, he prints out the photos taken of the crime scene. And while he waited for the print outs, the agent returned his attention to his handheld. It amazed him how he'd always thought that he'd have so many questions to ask the detective; or perhaps have something witty or memorable to say. But now that a moment has presented itself, he's choosing to escape reality for the virtual world.
For a moment the only sounds in the room were of L shuffling papers, the printer shooting ink onto paper then shoving it from the machine, and Matt clicking buttons and watching the game character, Henry, thwart off monsters; all the while stealing glances at the detective when he thought he wasn't looking.
"Do you play?" He waved his dark blue PSP, as if it were a better explanation than his asking about it directly. The glow from the screen waved over L like a freaky light show.
Turning his attention from the papers, to see what Matt was talking about, he nods with a small smile "Not as often as I'd like to."
"Really?" He grinned; knowing that they have a common meeting ground for getting to know each other on a non-professional level, felt really nice. "Do you wanna do a campaign with me in Resident Evil 6?" He paused his current game again by leaving Henry in a neutral area. "I know it's not the most popular in ranking, but," he removes the paper stack from the drop table.
Matt didn't get to finish his thought because L begins to speak. "That's only the opinion of those who feel too many options takes away from the story; its hard for some to focus on the bigger picture." He reaches for a porcelain tea cup; and with the silver kettle he pours himself a drink. "That being said, I'd be happy to play, Matt." Sipping from the tea cup, its set down on a tiny saucer with an audible clink. "But, focus on the case first, please."
"Of course." He removes a folder from the desk drawer, sliding the photos inside. "Will you and HE be helping us?"
"Not right away," He wasn't bothered by the disapproving tone towards Light. "we're heading out early to get him a physician, and physical therapist. Once we get back, we'll go over the progress of the case. You should be made aware that he'll be joining one of your teams." Stirring his tea with his near finished sweet; he asks softly. "Please don't make it hard on him."
'Easier said...' He thinks dejectedly, but nods. "I'm going back to bed. Night, L."
"Good night, Mail."
Matt paused when hearing his birthname spoken. He should have known he would bring up the hacking thing. He just figured he'd get lucky and the conversation would be saved for after breakfast. It wasn't even a conversation really. It was just a direct acknowledgement.
Saying goodnight again, he walked out of the room; the gamer hadn't realized that his heart was racing until he was a few steps away from Mello's bedroom. But a grin broke out over his face from the whole ordeal. That was L. That was fucking L! Okay, so he's repeating himself now, but it's still hitting him.
Bewildered, he looks down at his screen when a quiet sound coming from the speaker hit his ear, made possible by the sleeping silence in the house. "Shit." He muttered seeing Henry getting wailed on by the Twins monster. Trying to save him; he figured it'd be better if he turned the game off, and called it a night.
0 0 0
Mello hummed in appreciation of the gentle tugging going on at his lap; it's been too long since he's woken up with morning glory, even longer than that since he's had someone other than himself to take care of it. His eyes are still closed when his chain-smoking lover hefts a knee over his thighs to sit down over his length.
He continued audibly basking in the pleasure of that smooth, wet heat that's gliding up and down his member; and he casually smoothed a hand over the length of Matt's back and thighs. "What does this mean?" He asked from his place in a dream-fog; he's trying to show some self-retraint by not arching from the bed or wildly bucking his hips in beg of more of Matt's enticing hole.
Matt leaned over to press their lips together, and he chuckled against the blond's; kissing him languidly before answering. "I thought maybe we'd sleep in for a bit this morning."
"That sounds like a good idea," He replied with a nibble of Matt's lower lip between his teeth.
A tell-tale drumming hit the windows of their bedroom sounding like a spray of bullets from a gattling gun; laughter erupted from the pair in realization that they'll have to work in that delightful London rain they've often heard about.
"Now it sounds like an even better idea." Gripping the back of Matt's head, he puts more oomph into their making-out by turning it into a brawl; he rolled over pinning Matt to the bed where he could better plow into his partner at his desired pace.
Television: The bodies of four women were found dead late last night, by a man who seems to be popping up everywhere there's a crime committed.
It wasn't the volume that startled them, but the fact that the television turned on on its own- if only. Mello collapsed against Matt with a groan, and he shook his head in wonder of why? The pair remained plastered together; listening to the sound of movement in the room.
"I'd been wondering how to get the two of you up this morning," Near's smooth tone cut through the television's muttering. "But it would seem you've got it covered."
"Get out." Mello groaned into Matt's throat, hardly in the mood to stop or be bothered by whatever Near is going on about.
"I'll go. I just thought you'd like a heads-up that our only lead to whom the killer is was found at another crime scene." He lowers the remote to the coffee table. "It's been all over the news. Do with it what you will, if you still intend to have your pound of flesh this morning."
That pound of flesh just flashed the brat as they hurried over to the sitting area to look at the television. Near whirled a finger around a lock of his hair; it wasn't hard to keep his eyes averted from their nude bodies, but the image was a bit distracting when he'd seen Mello's burns. He knew he'd had an accident when he'd seen his rivals eye, but he had no idea how far it had gone, or what had happened to create it. The charred shoulder, some of his hand and wrist, with his hair a mess as it is, he can see a nearly gone ear.
"You've gotta be fucking kidding." Mello muttered about the report. "What are the odds of Quimby not being the killer when he's been dropped off at another crime scene?"
Near chose that moment to take his leave. He has his own work to get to now.
Scratching the back of his head, he gives a small shake of disbelief. "So much for sleeping in. We're gonna question him again now?" He looks at Mello.
"Cop-house probably still has him." Looking past Matt to where the albino pain had been seated, he's glad to see he's gone. "I'll go to the scene; you can make some copies of the first place and show them around to the neighbors."
"I already made the copies lastnight;" he shrugged a hand. "I was gonna surprise you that we could take a little longer getting up, but... here we are."
Grinning, he pinched Matt's cheeks like a grandparent would; shaking his head and all. "Aaaww, you're so cute." He laughed when Matt smacked his hands away telling him to shut up. "We can at least eat." He crossed the room for the bathroom. "Call for something quick."
Matt let out a deflated sigh as he scooped up his boxers to slip on so the help wouldn't get a private viewing of the Full Monte. Pressing the button on the intercom, he called down to the kitchen for a dozen scones, and something to spread on them- so long as one of the options is chocolate. Going into the bathroom, once Mello departed, and relieved himself fully annoyed that the relief wasn't of another form.
"You know, we can finish what we started once we get back."
Smiling, Matt shook himself off and replied. "I do love moaning over a good case file." He's washing his hands at the sink by the time the upstairs butler knocked on the door with their food.
Mello scoffed at the baked goods he'd only ever heard about or read about. What the fuck do you do with a scone? Lob it at someone? He couldn't help wondering if Near might float by in the hall, and he flexed his pitching arm. Matt left the bathroom looking half starved when food came into his line of vision, and he instantly picked up a scone in one hand and a knife in the other, and swathed it through a creamy glob of raspberry preserve.
He practically declared it delicious before it had even gone into his mouth, he's so hungry right now. His bite exceeded the preserve and he chewed happily over the large amount in his mouth, and dipped his knife back in for more of the sweet spread. Mello watched a moment before getting a hand on his own eats; and sliced a scone in half then slathered it with a chocolate spread so thick and creamy only pudding is its rival. He ravaged the chocolate sandwich in three big bites, then grabbed for another.
The pair ate in a mutual silence; listening to the news report in the background. It would seem Quimby has given his statement to the police who are re-telling his tale in his stead. The best thing the reporters could offer was that the journalist woke up at yet another crime scene. Well, duh, he'd been the one to call the police about it, so that wasn't exactly a shocker. Their gazes were practically glued to the television screen when the camera showed the bodies being taken from the hotel. And, unspokenly, they begin eating faster.
By the time they finished six pastries between them, the pair dressed in a hurry and bolted from the home. On his way to the stairs, Matt half expected to spot the detective having a meal in the library but he knew he wouldn't be there since he and Light are currently at the hospital. He hoped Kira didn't plan on joining him and Mello to investigate. If the guy still needs to have a doctor looking after him, he'll be a hindrance to the fast-paced couple for sure. Better he be with Near's squaters; the kid could probably use another field guy since he's only got the one now. And to be frank, he and Mello are all they need.
"Think the preserves'll still be in our room when we get back?" Matt asked while turning to Mello giving him a smooch.
Offering a thoughtful hum in response, the blond then verbally replied. "I hope so." Grabbing a set of keys, he chose a sleek black bike from the lot.
Matt seemed to have fallen in love, because he was back in the silver muscle waving to him before keying life into the engine.
...
The woman pulling open the door smiled upon seeing the tight-lipped agent standing behind it. "Well now, it's you again, isn't it?"
"Hi. I'm sorry to bother you again," he says flatly. "but I'm doing a little follow-up on the case. And I need for you to look at some photos."
"Sure I will. Come on in, have yourself some tea or do you prefer coffee?" She walked into the kitchen assuming Matt would follow. "I know you're not from around here."
"Coffee's good." He takes a seat at the island counter.
The thing is gigantic! He couldn't understand why she needs the table and booth when this sucker could easily fit six. Guess this explained why the living room was so dinky. He watched the gossip fix him a cup of coffee; answering how he takes it before the mug is set down before him. The woman took a seat beside him with her own cup filled with earl grey tea.
"What can I do for you then?"
"I need you to look over these photos of your neighbor's house, Mrs. Arterbury." After a thought he asked. "You have been over there, right? On more than one occassion."
"I should say so," Mrs. Arterbury declared. "Been over for tea and chat, and my kids have been in and out like it's their second 'ome."
"Are your kids here? They can help out too."
Pointing a finger towards the living room, she replied. "Been upstairs playin' all morning." Standing from the stool, she asked. "Shall I go an' get 'em?"
"Yeah." He nods.
The gossip had to agree with the agent's blond partner that he doesn't know how to talk to people. It seems to teeter on polite, but in an indifferent way. It's actually rather odd at that; but she'd gone up and fetched her kids for him. Matt looked over the scruffy little kids with a smirk of pity. They looked fresh out of that Oliver Twist movie he'd seen when he was seven, when Wammy's was having movie night in the home's theater room. The only thing their tweed pants and colored buttoned shirts were missing was a paperboy's cap. And all three were their mother's spitting image.
"Hi. My name's Matt." He mentally swore when he realized Matt was a lazy name without a sur attached to it. He hardly sounded official at all. 'Come on, old boy, think of anything.' He began again. "Matt S. Kennedy, I'm with the F.B.I." One kid, who looked to be the youngest, stuffed his pinky up his nose. What a lack of respect. "I wanna ask you kids about seven nights ago."
"Are you talking about what's happened to Jimmy and Alie?" Asked a taller boy, who was undoubetly the oldest. "That's pretty scary stuff. I used to know them."
"We all did stupid!" Snapped the middle child.
"Shut up, you goon."
"You shut up!"
Their mother took a hand across the backs of their heads, including the youngest who hadn't even done anything during the arguement. "That's no way to treat the memory of your friends, dammit. Now listen to what Mr. Kennedy has to say."
'I should have taken pictures at the crime scene.' He grumped to himself. "Take a look at these photos and tell me if there's anything in them that doesn't belong." Handing them over with some hesitance, he adds. "There's a lot of blood in one of them," he looked at their mother.
"Oh gosh, what these kids don't know would surprise me more." She waved off the formality of a forewarning.
"Is this like one of those search pictures?" Asked the middle boy looking it over.
"You could see it that way." He lifts his mug and takes a gulp of coffee, sipping gradually while the family looked over the photos; he almost seemed to be using it as a lame shield for his people-skill lacked nerves.
"This is different." Says the middle child handing the photo of the child's bedroom back to Matt. "Unless his mum changed the room around for him, Jim's bed's supposed to be on this opposite wall." He stabs the photo where the bed should have been. "We'd call through the wall if we wanted to play at each other's house."
Making a mental note of that, Matt was about to ask another question when the oldest child cut him off. "We heard Alie scream when she'd gone upstairs! Does that help?!"
"It does actually... when was this?" He asked the child. "Do you know what time it was?"
He shook his head so that his dirty blond hair swung back and forth over his forehead. "But it was dark out, and we'd just ate."
'I can't do cognitive, I don't have that touch Mello has.' He thinks somberly. 'It is a good clue though; two good clues actually.'
"I didn't see anything else different about the house; and I've never been up to the kids' bedrooms, so I wouldn't notice a difference there." Informed Mrs. Arterbury.
"Thank you." Getting up from the stool; the leather flexed audibly in his departure. "I'll be next door if you think of anything else."
"At the Talbott's?" Asked the middle child, who seemed to be the family vocalist- after his mother. "Can we go too?!"
"Yeah, I wanna see."
Feeling his brow twitch, he couldn't help thinking that the bloody pictures should have been enough. "No." He shook his head.
The children broke into a fit of "pleeeeease" and Matt just about broke out in hives as he took his leave of them along with the photos. He departs for the last stop of his questioning session, which is just a quick sweep of the Talbott's home, when he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket. Lifting it out, he took the call.
"Phone-sex already, it must be brutal over there." He chuckled while opening the door of the Talbott house, still swathed in yellow crime scene tape.
"I haven't gotten there yet, I was calling to tell you Jim Talbott senior just arrived from the airport and the police have got him. Feel like questioning him?"
"No." He answered from a place tired of conversing with the human race. "But I'll do it anyway."
"I'll send you the address."
Ending the call, Matt then opened the door stepping inside.
0 0 0
Mello swung his leg from around the other side of the bike as he surveyed the scene before him. The place was still crawling with cops standing about like the rain weren't affecting them at all, when he's got on his long coat to keep rain from his attire that's usually treated unkindly in wet weather, even the hood of his coat is drawn up to prevent anything moist from slithering down the throat of the coat while he travelled to The Randolph.
Victorian Goth. The large yellow brick building with the black roof tops loomed before him like gold bathed in the silver weather's atmosphere. 4 floors of rooms, unless the upper half is an attic.
He only had to mention that he was one of L's men and they let him right through to the crime scene. He didn't have to ask which room the crime was committed, that was made obvious by the officers walking in and out of it on the third level, most of them he figured to be part of the forensics team because the cops were around the hotel speaking with the occupants.
Inspite of his intentions not to look like a novice, he never could get used to the stench of death and he brought his hand up to his nose and mouth. Outline tape gave away where the bodies resided and he sees that they were on the bed and a chaise lounge. The news report said the victims were four women, so then what were they all doing collected in this room and in the places they were found?
Mello's face commically expressed its thoughts in wonder if women had organized orgies or erotic slumber parties outside of pornos? That didn't seem right to him, more sickening than a wonder. Removing his camera from his coat pocket he begins snapping photos of the spacious room.
White walls, a large queen-sized bed with an open canopy, the floor is covered in a thin beige carpet. He thought the floral armchairs were a bit tacky against the striped curtain covering the bed, but that wasn't conversation one would have out loud. He checked every closet and bathroom space for suspicious leavings but found none. The only harm done to the room was in the main part of it.
Removing his phone from his pocket he calls Matt. "Hey, can you get me the photos from this morning, they should be documented by now."
"On it." He hung up.
It took a few minutes before his phone buzzed that he's got mail. He smiled at the emoticon Matt sent as the header, making light of the fact that he's got mail from a Mail. Looking through the photos he checked the room glancing up and down with each inch he skimmed not finding anything off with it, moved around, removed or otherwise. But then again...
Leaving the room he tromps down the hall to the stairwell where he quickly descends. "Hey," he says to the front clerk who looked like he'd need a week in bed to recover from what happened at the hotel. "Can you tell me if all the rooms are the same in the building, or just the ones on the third floor?"
Composed at being addressed; Mello supposed the feigned concern was to deflect suspicion that he'd allowed anything to happen at the hotel. "All the rooms are done in the same fashion, a different design for each floor."
"Are all the rooms on the third floor occupied, I'd like to have a look around?"
"Why? I thought the murder was in room 4." Though he'd reached below the desk to grab a key for room 2.
"I only need a look around, in case something was left at the scene or taken from it." He took the key from the man; patting the desk with his leather gloved hand as a thank you before he walked back up the stairs.
Mello let himself into the room and wasn't surprised to find the room held the same things as the crime scene's. Everything was on the opposite side though. But aside from that there was nothing unusual or different about the room except the lack of blood. Obviously. Other fluids was a blue lights little secret. Closing the door and locking it, he walked into room 4 to again look over where the bodies had been.
Taking his attention from the outlines to study the bodies off the photographs, he made a mental note that all the women in the room look similar: same hair color, same facial shape, same enough height. The only difference was the hue of their complexions. 2 pale and 2 a more natural hue.
'But is it relevant?' He wondered. 'Hell, the only thing tying the two crimes together is Quimby.' He scoffed. 'A lot of help he is when he's always awake after the murder and knocked out before.'
Manuevering around the forensics squad he exits the room and hotel after returning the key to the front desk. 'Fucking rain, let up already.' He griped as he pulled the hood back over his head for cover.
0 0 0
On the other side of the city, Matt was at the police station talking to Jim Talbott senior. The man is burly and beady-eyed, holding himself with his arms crossed though his eyes gave it away that he's been crying, and not too long ago. To keep from having mental holes drilled into his head, he decided to swipe a pad and pencil from an officer's desk and with it he pretended to take notes of what Mr. Talbott is saying, when he's really just doodling to keep his gaze down.
"And does your work take you out of town often?" He asked, hoping for something substantial to come out of all of it.
The man cleared enough phlegm to have belonged in a few people's throats before answering. "Yeah, I often leave for work purposes, so what's that got to do with my wife and kids getting murdered?" He almost choked out the sentence as another round of sadness came back at him.
"Maybe nothing... unless, of course, you were actually intending to go someplace else and calling it business."
"Oy!" He got up so quickly the chair snipped as it shoved back aways from him; the cops in the room all came alert. "Don't you be accusing me of something I've not done. That's my family you're talking about."
"Okay, okay..." He waved his hands. 'Chill out.'
When the riled up widower sat himself back in his chair, almost missing it not having noticed over his outburst that it had moved, he returned to his closed off posture of crossed arms and a mean pout.
"I'm just being thorough. We need to know why anyone would kill your wife and kids, if this wasn't random slaughter?"
That seemed to break his composure because the flood gate opened and the sobs just spilled out. Matt looked at the man as though he'd just farted or something. What was he supposed to do with a weeping grown man? Slap him? Or does that only work on hysterical women? It was worth a shot...
Lifting his hand he's startled to stop when the man sat back in the chair choosing to get a hold of himself. That's lucky. So much so, he wouldn't be shocked if a car came plowing through the building just to balance out the good and the bad. Again he tries to cover some ground.
"Mr. Talbott? Do you have any reason to believe someone would want to harm your family?"
He shook his head. "No, nothing that I'd know of."
"Really? Think about it... Has your wife ever done something, something that maybe pissed someone off that they'd hate her enough to kill her?" Recalling what the neighborhood gossip said, he adds. "Possibly a man?"
"Unless she'd met someone while I was away; we know the same people." He nods. "She was well liked- not saying she was a saint but she was well liked."
"Okay." That got him nowhere, which means it wasn't personal. As far as they know. "Can you look at these for me. Can you tell me if anything looks new to you?" He hands the man the photos of his home.
He once again started sobbing. He could cry on the photos if he liked, Matt had more copies in the folder on the desk. When Jim finally got it back together he pointed out the bed just as Mrs. Arterbury's son had.
Looking at the photo in glance, he asked. "And that's the only thing?"
"I'm sure. But my wife could have moved it."
"Did she do that often?"
"Once a month at least, but it was usually just scooting it against the corner or away from it. She liked to be able to look in on the brats at the door."
At least that made him smile, thought Matt. He told the man that he had to stay at a hotel while the crime scene clean up team removed the evidence of the murder from the home. It's protocol, since most people don't remain in the home that their family was murdered in. He said his goodbye, and informed him to call the police with more information if he thought of anything. By the time he was ready to head home, Mello called him declaring the same.
He wondered if L and Light had come back from the hospital yet? He hoped not, he had to be there for what was to come. And he sped home before he could be called away to do anything more.
...
"I've never heard you say anything funny." Light retorts to L's comment of how come he isn't in a better mood, considering how funny he is?
"I crack people up all the time." Remarked the detective.
"How?" He looks out the window at London passing them by. "Aside from your stunning good looks." And he smirked at his dig.
The pair just got done with checking him into the hospital as an 'out-patient', and now they're on their way to L's manor. Light's never been out of Japan before, and he supposed he should be thrilled, and he is, but he still has his qualms with the detective's agents. Light Yagami has never been one to fall victim to the 'new kid in town' treatment but he doesn't want to offend L in his home by disagreeing and not getting along with his people.
"Hmm?" And he took on a thoughtful pose with his index finger tapping lightly against his bottom lip. "How 'bout a joke?"
"Okay, shoot." The idea of this devoid of normal human-being telling a joke at all is a funny joke in itself.
"I've got a great one," L says, "MO does not mean motive." and he smiled.
Grinning, Light raised a hand in saying "Touché." that the detective can make funny jokes.
The town car slowed down when they reached a long brick and wrought iron fence, it came to a stop while the gate opened up for it then continued its way around the long drive to the front door. As they exit the car; the driver seeing to their bags, the pair walk to the door greeted by the butler once it's opened.
"Bon après-midi, Monsieur L et Monsieur Light." Duvernay greets. "Il est bon de vous avoir enfin avec nous."
Mello, Matt, Near, and even Gevanni watch from the top of the grande staircase as the pair move into the home. It was like Christmas on crack with the way the otherwordly detective kept his back to them, almost like it were on purpose.
"Avez-vous mangé?" The butler swept his hand out right with means to lead them into the dinette to have lunch.
"Pas encore, je vous remercie." Replied L following his butler.
The spying agents practically fell on their ways down the stairs after them. How could he just leave and not say anything to them?! He had to know they were there?! Waiting and watching. There were things they wanted to know. Things they wanted to tell. Apologies secreted to him over how things had gone down when they'd thought he was dead.
The second floor butler walked past them with L and Light's bags in his hands. They were almost tempted to follow him and see which room the detective was going to be placed with the prisoner, but they reminded themselves that they're adults now and nosing after L was kid's stuff. But down the stairs they went with intentions of being nosey- though discreetly.
The new arrivals heard the scurrying of mice in the hall as they took a seat at the small table where the servants on duty have their meals. The cook nearly wet herself moving about the kitchen to fix a meal for her employer and his guest. It's been a long time since L's been home. The tours of the prestigious home have only just stopped a month ago; the help were asked to leave the home as the tourist monument it's been turned into, but when L is at home, it's just that. A home.
And she remembered his favorites, 2 eggs and three heavily dressed pieces of toast. For the lord's guest she supposed a semi-traditional breakfast would do. She's never fed an oriental before, and isn't wordly enough to know his usual intake. But she'd learn, for now they need a meal on the fly.
"Sounds like we've got company," L says to Light.
"At this hour? How appauling." He felt like playing as a rich brat.
"Come in, everyone; don't be shy." He called to the ambling hall dwellers.
Matt pushed Mello forward, he's always said he's had a sort of relationship with L, let him be the first under that watchful gaze in daylight. Near can be next, and his pretty boy techie, then he'll go in. Inspite of having spoken to L last night, that was in a dimly lit room where they were on even ground, now he's where he is and L is towering. It seems like an exagerated playing up too, but that's how Wammy's raised them, and even after having left it, at the base of their skulls they knew it was for L. They wanted his place, sure, that was the goal. But they wanted more than that. They wanted the legend to be true. Touchable. Someone they can see and walk beside. Be acknowledged by.
And right now, with the legend himself smiling at them around a spoonful of Cadbury Egg- or possibly just smiling because he's enjoying his brunch- they feel like they're somewhat to that place. "Hello. Salut. Привет. Hola. Moi and various others... I am, L."
Light couldn't help rolling his eyes, though this went unseen by the others since his back is to them.
"And I'm sure I don't need to introduce you to Light Yagami." He gives his lover a nod. "Where I'm sure there are numerous things you'd like to ask me, please save your questions for after the meeting, which will begin once Light and I have eaten, changed, then join you in the upstairs library. Good? That's wonderful." His spoon is plunged back into the fine chocolate eggshell removing the egg resembling custard. "You may go work on your cases now."
Stunned silence took that as their dismissal, and they walked out of the room no closer to the dream than when they'd walked in.
Snickering, Light asked. "Don't you think that was a little harsh?"
L only blinked. "What? You didn't think that was funny?" He smiled. "They all have preconceived notions of me, can't I play up to them once in a while?"
"Thank you." He says to the cook when a plate of pop-overs and ham with a couple sunny side up eggs laid carefully over the meat and ready to run like a golden river along the plate. "You've got a point. If they knew the L I know" he cut into his ham steak. "you'd be the one out there doing the grunt work, if they didn't make you a Pageboy outright."
"You may be right." He muttered over a large bite of thickly cut brioche french toast, that's slathered with Nutella, and topped with bananas that have honey and chocolate drizzle running over it. Just as he likes it. "But how does Light know that his L is the right one?"
Light only blinked thoughtfully, then returned to his meal.
...
Having returned to their room; Matt can't help the grin on his face. "So... What d'you think?"
"About what?" He's looking over the police reports from Quimby.
"About L?"
Mello seemed to think it over, then he shrugged. "I could take him either way."
Scoffing from shock of how blasé his lover can be sometimes- he who seemed to love L more than any of them, just giving the situation a "whatever" response; Matt leaned his buttocks against the computer desk, arms crossed. He knew how to get him. "Did you know L likes gaming?"
Cocking a brow, Mello snapped a bite from his candy bar before asking around the chunk in his teeth. "How do you know that?"
Feeling one peg higher, Matt replied. "I asked him last night, he was in the study with Light." Opening the folder of pictures from the lastest murder scene, he went on. "We talked like friends, you know how it is."
Mello snorts. 'I knows how it is'. Who was this kid all of a sudden? "Doesn't matter, because I've met L on occassions, too."
"Oh, you mean those times back at the house when he would tell you stories about cases." Shaking his head, he says. "Newsflash, Mel', no one's ever believed you."
"Yeah?"
They continued teasing each other for status.
"Well what about my notes? Huh?"
"Oh what? Your short story about a case file you could have found somewhere at Wammy's?" He takes a step back when his lover gets up in his face like the umpires at baseball games, chewing out fouled players. "I've read it and frankly, I'm not impressed."
"Oh, you're dead. Now."
Shoving the techie onto the bed, he climbed on top of him pinning him down by entraping thighs, to dole out a good beating with one of the few pillows above them. He's gonna see to it that more than Matt's hair is red when he's done.
In the upstairs study Near and Gevanni's conversation is of the same subject but a different direction.
"What do you think L will do now that he's here?" Gevanni asked and he can already feel his place in the home leaving him. How weird will it be messing around with Near with his boss around? And in the man's home, no less.
"I think he'll do what he normally does when he's here." Replied the addressed in a casual tone. "Whether or not he'll be assisting us with the case, we'll see during the meeting."
"You mentioned something about him never having chosen a successor before his death... Do you think he's still looking to choose one of you, since he's actually alive?"
Near's dark gray gaze fell upon his agent with listless boredom. "I think we have more important things to do than make attempts at being mediums- like look over this morning's findings. We're not any closer to solving this case than we were yesterday." Handing him a sheet of paper, he adds. "Stay focused."
"Right."
And to think just three hours earlier he'd been basking in the afterglow of last night's newly covered ground. He'd been skeptical at first, but once they'd found their pace it was amazing. Near was sloppy for his first time not knowing any angles or speeds, but he'll learn. Hopefully he'd allow a lesson through example. Gevanni could show the young detective the joys of pleasure in the likes he's never seen. If he'd just let him.
Sucking in a breath, he began to ask "Near..." but was cut off by the intercom buzzing.
"Will everyone in the manor" It's Duvernay. "please report to the second floor library. The meeting will begin shortly. Thank you."
Time to get to the real work.
...
Commentary: Happy New Year, and as I roam about saying on the first of every year "first update of the new year" and after this first commentary of the new year. I really do have to work out the case so that you can all follow along and possibly solve it with them, and that takes a minute. If this were just a story I'd be near to done I'm betting. Thank you both for your reviews, missdarlingdeath and xfanficaholicx, I know it can be embarrassing being pointed out but I never stop meaning the thank yous, so it's hard not to do it by username.
I'm gonna get back to my Walking Dead marathon, I hope you're all having a really good season and holiday... I didn't. I got robbed because the mail people kept putting return to sender on my packages. That's some old bull in my book.
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Another Note: Crime Scenes