Red Herrings
CHAPTER I: Tony Takes Charge
Tony DiNozzo was between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, when his boss, NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, had abruptly resigned after a mission went bad, Gibbs had symbolically turned over responsibility for his team to Tony, telling him, "You'll do." On the other hand, Tony wasn't so sure he'd do at all.
For one thing, after the team had recovered from the shock of Gibbs's departure, and even before then, when he'd been hospitalized with injuries from an explosion and 15 years'worth of amnesia, Special Agent Tim McGee and Mossad Officer Ziva David had resisted DiNozzo's being the ad hoc team leader. Someone had to do it, and he was the senior field agent. He was the logical choice. But his own history was getting in the way. His façade was that of a sexist, devil-may-care layabout, more interested in teasing his teammates and making bad jokes than in doing an honest day's work.
In their hearts of hearts, they knew the façade was just that and that underneath he was a talented and skilled investigator who deserved the opportunity to move up in his career. Nonetheless, they watched with guarded eyes as he struggled to make the job his own.
Unfortunately, on the other hand, their doubts, not so subtly conveyed to him, were causing him to have his own trepidations. Gibbs was the best, who made sure the members of his team were trained to be the best as well. His training methods could be harsh, and he did not often hand out approbation for their work, let alone praise. But each of them was aware that, together, they made a damned good team, and they wouldn't be there if Gibbs had not wanted them to be there.
Because of his childhood background of emotional neglect from his parents, Tony craved attention and approval. He would have followed Gibbs through fire and water if need be, and Gibbs knew that, but sometimes Tony wished his boss were a little more generous with his praise. When Gibbs did comment favorably about his work, he soaked it up like desert sands receiving a thundershower.
He wasn't sure how he was going to do without Gibbs to give him orders. He knew he could do the job all right, but it would be different having responsibility for the team all the time. He'd just have to do the best he could, and if that wasn't enough for Madame Director, well, so be it.
Ah. Madame Director.
After Gibbs had walked out of the bullpen, she had called DiNozzo into her office.
"First of all," she told him, "you can let the team go home for today. Tomorrow, we'll all get together and talk about how this is going to work."
"I'm going to be the team leader, ma'am," he said. "You trusted me to be in charge while Gibbs was in the hospital. Why not now? It's going to work the way it always has, just with a different guy in the lead."
She looked at him with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, full of speculation and doubt.
"You wouldn't have been my first choice to be team leader," she admitted.
"Who else is there?" he pointed out. "I'm…uh…I was Gibbs's senior field agent. I have five years of experience at NCIS and nearly six years of experience before that as a beat cop and a police detective. I'm qualified."
"Oh, I don't doubt that," she replied. "It's not your resume I'm worried about."
"What, then?" he said, beginning to get a little annoyed at her.
She paused as if trying to think of the right words to use. "It's your attitude," she finally said. "Look at you. You're in your thirties, but sometimes you act like a horny teenager."
He grinned at her, his eyes glinting wickedly. "Hey, I didn't even know you knew about horny teenagers."
"DiNozzo! You can get away with the frat boy humor around Gibbs, but not around me."
"Maybe that's your problem," he said, using as reasonable a tone of voice as he could but knowing he was skating on thin ice.
Shepard sighed. "I'm going to ignore that." She paused to study him, leaning her elbows on her desk and steepling her fingers. "I'm not sure what your issue is with me," she went on. "But at this point we are going to have to come to a mutual accommodation in order to work together. I know you can do a good job, but I'm hoping that your new responsibilities will make you think a little more about behaving more like a mature adult and less like a…a…a horny teenager."
She allowed herself a tiny, tight smile, and he returned it.
"Ma'am," he assured her. "I'm ready to take on the responsibility. We don't know if or when Gibbs is going to come back. Somebody has to do the job in the meantime, and, like I said, I'm the most logical choice. You can count on me."
"I sincerely hope so, DiNozzo. But I must warn you. Any slip-ups, any goofing off, and I'll be forced to re-evaluate the situation. There are other agents in this building who are qualified to be team leaders too. You're not indispensable."
"No," he responded agreeably, "but I am irreplaceable."
She gave a soft snort and dismissed him.
CHAPTER II: Number 2
Ziva was late. First, the used car McGee had helped her pick out a few months before refused to start. Not until she got out and kicked a tire in frustration did she think about taking the bus to work. She'd done that for a couple of months before getting the car, and she hated it. She hated its pokiness, the many stops to let passengers on and off; she even hated the other passengers.
The thought of having to take the bus made her get back in the car and try the ignition again. Her eyes rolled upward in gratitude when the engine coughed but then caught and started. In the rear view mirror, she saw a puff of smoke float out of the muffler and made a mental note to take it to a garage the next time she had a day off.
This endeavor having taken at least five minutes, she grimly put the car in gear and took off at an even more reckless speed than usual. Ten blocks away from her home, she watched with horror as the car in front of her was t-boned by some jerk running a stop sign. Jumping out, she ran over to assess the damage. No one seemed to be physically injured, although the older woman driving the car in front of her looked a little dazed. Yet another driver, having witnessed the scene also, approached, saying he'd already called 911. Ziva gave him her card, telling him her boss was a bear when people were late to work but that he could have the police give her a call if they needed a statement from her.
With that, she ran back to her car, but because the damaged cars were blocking the intersection, she had to retrace her path to the previous intersection. Once turned onto a parallel street, she immediately became lost, and it took her another 15 minutes to find her way back to the appropriate arterial street.
When David finally stepped off the NCIS elevator into the squad room at nearly 7:25, she looked around quickly to see if Gibbs would notice she was late, but his desk was empty. For a moment she felt relief, but then remembered—Gibbs had retired. McGee's desk was empty too. Only Tony was in the bullpen, standing in front of his desk and putting a clip into his pistol.
She tried to walk by him as quietly as possible, but DiNozzo, without looking around, said, "You're late, David."
"Yes," she said, giving a silent groan while wondering how Gibbs had done that and whether Tony picked it up from him. "I ran into a couple problems. It won't happen again."
"You bet it won't." He turned finally to look at her. "Grab your gear; we've already caught a case."
He turned around quickly and headed for the elevator.
"And McGee…." she started to inquire.
"Is already getting the truck out," he said over his shoulder.
DiNozzo disappeared into the elevator; there was no way she could have caught up with him. Hurriedly, she checked her pistol and her bag, then headed for the elevator herself.
By the time she got downstairs, the van was already at the back door with its engine running. McGee, sitting in the driver's seat, looked a little anxious as usual. DiNozzo's face was unreadable beneath the NCIS cap, his dark glasses obscuring any expression in his eyes.
"So what do we have?" David asked him as she climbed into her seat and buckled her seat belt.
"A 19 year old female petty officer was found in her apartment this morning, shot in the head. Metro PD got the call first, and they've already started processing the scene." His reply was short, and David reflected that, whenever Gibbs was gone, DiNozzo was known for taking on the older agent's characteristics, especially his hard-nosed gruffness.
The remainder of the 20 minute ride to the apartment complex where the PO had lived passed in silence, although more than one occupant of the van thought it would have taken only 10 minutes if either Gibbs or David had been driving.
The scene was already well defined by yellow crime scene tape. There were four two-story buildings, arranged parallel to each other but perpendicular to the street. Each building was apparently one apartment deep, each containing four apartments on each floor. Based on the amount of activity nearby, the crime scene was the second apartment on the first floor of the second building. Outside the tape, clusters of onlookers watched their arrival with avid interest, commenting among themselves. There were also several people inside the tape, including both uniformed and plainclothes police personnel and some dazed-looking folks who might be witnesses. As McGee brought the van to a halt, a man inside the tape broke away from one of the groups.
Getting out of the van, DiNozzo assessed the approaching cop. He was at least as tall as DiNozzo himself, but a little beefier and a little older. He had straight black hair touched with gray and cut very poorly, with one lock falling over onto his forehead. He was dressed in a shapeless gray suit, probably right off the rack at K-Mart. But he had a business-like, shrewd look about him. He also looked infinitely weary. Typical cop, DiNozzo decided.
"Detective Johnny Delbart, Metro PD," the cop stated, sticking his hand out to DiNozzo.
"NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, but you can call me Tony," he countered, shaking the detective's hand. "Special Agent Tim McGee, Officer Ziva David," he went on, nodding slightly toward his teammates.
Stepping over the tape, the group headed across the parking lot toward the building. DiNozzo asked, "Can you fill in some of the details for us?"
Delbart pulled a small notebook out of the breast pocket of his jacket and flipped it open. "Vic's name is Jane Adamovski. 19 years old. Petty officer, working as a clerk in medical records at Bethesda. Her roommate's name is Shelly Tompkins, also a clerk at Bethesda, but she's on leave right now, visiting her family somewhere out West. Adamovski has a standing date with another friend, name of Julie Jordan, to run at 5:30 every morning. Usually Adamovski waits outside for her, but this morning, she wasn't there, and when Jordan knocked on the door, there was no answer. Jordan went around the back to look in the bedroom window. She saw Adamovski lying on the bed, but again, when she knocked on the window, there was no response.
"The super for the apartment complex was out hosing off the sidewalks and parking areas, so Jordan went and got him, and he unlocked the door. When he went into the bedroom, he saw the gunshot wound. He wouldn't let Jordan in, and he used his personal cell to call 911."
"Any reason to suspect either the running partner or the super?" DiNozzo wanted to know.
"At this moment, no." replied the detective.
"And both the front and back doors to the apartment were locked?" DiNozzo went on.
"Yup. Jordan did say that sometimes, if Adamovsky was running late, she would open the back door. Perp coulda gotten in that way and then locked the door when he left."
By this time, the little group had walked into the apartment. From the front door, one stepped to the left into the living room, at the other end of which was a small dining area, with a kitchen beyond. On the right, a small hallway led past one bedroom, the bathroom, and then ended with another bedroom. Delbart led the NCIS team down the hallway to the back bedroom.
DiNozzo stepped through the doorway and stopped with a short, sharp hiss of breath. The victim was lying on her back, still in pajamas, with her hands splayed out slightly to each side. She had a pretty face with long dark hair that spread out around her head like a scarf, and there was a single bullet hole right in the middle of her forehead.
DiNozzo stared at Jane Adamovski's body, and as a wave of dizziness came over him, her face morphed into that of another attractive young woman with long dark hair and a hole in her forehead.
"Tony?" McGee spoke softly behind him. "You all right?"
Tim had not seen Caitlin Todd dead on the roof where she'd been assassinated; only when she'd been placed on one of Ducky's cold, cold slabs in the morgue had he had the courage to look at her, but he sensed what Tony was feeling.
DiNozzo shook his head slightly to ward off the vertigo. "It's all right, Tim. I'll be okay."
Then he spoke to the detective again. "I understand your guys have already started processing in here?"
"No," Delbart replied. "As soon as the running partner told us she was Navy, we called you guys."
"Thanks. David, you go interview the two witnesses and talk to as many of the bystanders as you can, find out if anyone saw anyone or anything suspicious or heard the gunshot."
"Right," she answered as she turned to go outside again.
"McGee, do prints and any other evidence in here and then in the rest of the apartment."
"On it, boss," said McGee.
DiNozzo allowed himself one small grin of satisfaction for the unconscious acknowledgement of his leadership.
"I'll shoot and sketch," DiNozzo announced, putting down his bag and preparing to take out the camera and the sketch pad.
Delbart said, "Look at this."
Following the other man's gesture, DiNozzo noticed that under the victim's right hand was a piece of paper.
"What's that?" he asked.
"If it's what I think it is," said the detective, "it's a page from a Bible."
"And why do you think that?"
"Because we had another victim yesterday who had one under his hand, just like that."
CHAPTER III: Number 1
DiNozzo paused to digest the new information
"Navy?"
"No," Delbart replied. "A homeless guy. No connection to any of the services that we've been able to discover."
"And he was found holding onto a page from a Bible?"
"Yup," Delbart continued. "His name is Homer Algawid, age 69. He slept in an old refrigerator carton in an alley behind the Carter Hotel. During the day he hung out at a soup kitchen a couple of blocks away, helped out by mopping floors and cleaning toilets, stuff like that. He didn't show up yesterday morning for breakfast at seven, so the director sent someone over to look for him. He was found in his hooch with his throat cut literally from ear to ear."
"Any known connection besides the Bible pages between him and this victim?"
"No."
"We definitely need to talk about both cases," DiNozzo told him. "But right now I'd like to collect the evidence here and see what we've got. Then we'll get together later, see what other similarities there might be and so forth. Okay?"
"Okay," Delbart agreed. "Me and my boys'll hang around for a while. If you need any help, just yell."
"Can you send me a fax of everything you got on…what's his name…Homer?"
"Will do."
By now McGee was well along in checking a number of surfaces for prints. After one more intense look at the corpse and a deep sigh, DiNozzo began taking photos of everything in the room and sketching the various furnishings and objects in relation to each other. He noted that there was little blood, indicating the bullet had lodged either in the victim's skull, in the pillow under her head, or in the mattress. He commented on this to McGee, who knelt down next to the bed to peer under it with a flashlight.
"I don't see any sign of an exit here," McGee told him.
"All right. I guess we'll have to wait for the autopsy or for Abs to check the pillow and the mattress."
At that moment, Dr. Mallard, the medical examiner, followed closely by his assistant, Jimmy Palmer, entered.
"I'm so sorry we're so tardy, Anthony," Ducky apologized. "Traffic was most congested, and, as usual, Jimmy's directional disability was unfortunately in evidence." Jimmy grimaced.
Ducky turned to look at the victim's body. "Good heavens!" he exclaimed. "She looks like…."
"Yeah, Ducky, we know," DiNozzo interrupted, not wanting to follow that conversational path.
Casting a sympathetic glance at DiNozzo, Ducky approached the bed and gently lifted Jane Adamovsky's head from the pillow, which, he discovered, was well soaked with blood and bits of brain tissue. Her long, flowing hair had hidden the mess.
"Poor dear," he said in a gentle voice. "Jimmy, pull the pillow and bag it. I'm sure Abigail will want to examine it thoroughly.
Jimmy pulled out a plastic bag, into which he placed the pillow. Before letting the victim's head down, DiNozzo and Ducky noticed the hole in the mattress, along with smears of blood, although not so much as on the pillow.
"We're going to have to take the mattress, too," Ducky said to DiNozzo.
"Don't do anything with it just yet. I need to find the building super and ask who it belongs to."
While Ducky began his preliminary examination of the body, DiNozzo went outside.
"What's up?" Detective Delbart asked him.
DiNozzo replied, "I need a word with the super."
Delbart spoke briefly with one of his men, who walked over to the super to bring him over.
"You're the super?" asked DiNozzo.
"Yeah," the man answered. "George Gund."
DiNozzo made a note of Gund's name in his PDA and looked up. "Is that apartment rented furnished, or do the tenants have to bring in their own furniture?"
"All these apartments are rented unfurnished," the super told him.
"Good," DiNozzo said. "It appears the bullet that killed Ms. Adamovsky is lodged in her mattress. We're going to have to take it with us as part of the evidence. I'll write a receipt for it and the pillow and leave it with you to give to her roommate."
DiNozzo consulted his notes again. "I'm going to ask the Metro police to arrange for you and Ms.
Jordan to provide your fingerprints and samples for DNA testing. So we'll be able to distinguish your signs from those of anybody else."
"Sure," the super said, and Delbart confirmed that he and his men would make the appropriate arrangements.
As DiNozzo returned to the apartment to finish taking photos and making sketches of the rest of it, Ducky and Jimmy were putting the victim's body into a bag and soon had it loaded on their van, along with the mattress and the pillow.
"Any preliminary findings, Ducky?" DiNozzo asked the ME.
"Initially it appears death was instantaneous, resulting from a gunshot to the head. Based on gross examination—body temperature, rigidity, lividity, that sort of thing—it appears that death occurred roughly"--he glanced at his watch—"two to three hours ago. Of course, I'll know more later."
After Ducky and Jimmy drove off, DiNozzo, David, and McGee continued to work on gathering evidence for another hour or so. Finally DiNozzo called for a brief conference.
"Are you guys just about done?" he asked them. They indicated they were.
"Ziva, did you learn anything from any of the witnesses or the bystanders?"
"No," she said. "No one saw anything; no one heard anything, not even the next-door neighbors. I did pass out a lot of business cards in case any of them remembers something later."
"Good," he told her. "Let's finish up here and get back to the office so we can start processing."
Outside, DiNozzo approached Delbart again. "We're going to pick up our stuff and go home," he said. "How about you come over to our place about 2 o'clock this afternoon and we can sit down and talk about this. And I'll give you the 50 cent tour of NCIS, too," he finished with a grin.
The detective agreed to the plan, stating he would leave a couple of his officers on guard at the crime site.
The team drove back to the office in silence. Once the physical evidence they'd collected had been delivered to Abby, they returned to the bullpen, David and McGee began working on their reports. DiNozzo found that Delbart had been as good as his word; the case file from Metro on Homer Algawid's murder had already been faxed over and was on top of his desk.
As Delbart had told him, Algawid's body had been found in his refrigerator carton at about 7:30 a.m. the preceding morning The Metro medical examiner had determined that death had occurred at about 4:00 or 5:00 in the morning. The slash through his throat had nearly beheaded him, even slightly nicking a vertebra, which indicated both a very sharp knife and a forceful blow from a strong arm. As might be expected, although Homer may have lived for a few more moments, he bled out very rapidly, and, indeed, there was a substantial pool of blood on the ground beneath his body. Metro CSI had found some metal particles on the edges of the cut that enabled them to conclude the fatal blade was high-quality stainless steel, but the weapon had not been found. They were still analyzing the particles to determine the exact composition of the steel, which might enable them to locate the manufacturer and thereby trace it back to a purchaser.
When DiNozzo fired up his computer, he pulled up a map of Washington and marked the locations of the two murders. Leaning back in his chair with his legs propped up on the desk and his hands behind his head, he contemplated the map through narrowed eyes, as if it could give him the answers he wanted.
When it didn't, he left McGee and David at their desks while he trotted up the stairs. Outside the director's office, he got a nod from Cynthia, the secretary, indicating he could go right in. The director looked up from her desk as he knocked and walked in.
"Just get back?" Shepard asked.
"A few minutes ago."
"Metro police were there?"
"Yeah, a detective named Delbart. He left a detail to protect the scene. "
Shepard shook her head. "I don't think I know him," she stated.
"He seems like a competent guy. I think we're going to be working with him a little more than we anticipated."
The director raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"Metro had another murder yesterday. An older guy whose only home was a cardboard refrigerator box. Slit throat. The only apparent connection between their murder and ours is that both victims were clutching a leaf from a Bible. Abby's examining them now. McGee and David are checking the databases to see if there might be any other connection between them, but so far that's the only one."
"Any Navy connection?" the director asked.
"Don't know yet. We're checking on that too."
"You want me to set up a formal liaison with Metro police?"
"Yeah, if you would, please," DiNozzo replied. "Detective Delbart's coming over this afternoon to discuss what we have so far." DiNozzo flashed his most disarming grin at her. "I promised him the grand tour. He'll want to meet you, too."
"Of course," Shepard said coolly. "Keep me posted on any developments."
"Of course," DiNozzo said in his most professional voice but with the grin flashing even wider, letting Jen Shepard know that he knew that, not only could he, if he wanted, charm the birds out of the trees, but her as well, in spite of her seeming not to like him very much.
CHAPTER IV: Numbers 1 and 2
Precisely on the dot of 2:00 p.m. that afternoon, the elevator doors slid open, and Detective Delbart stepped out.
Going to greet him, Tony outlined the agenda for the meeting. "If it's okay with you, first I'll take you upstairs to meet the director. Did you get the word that she's setting up a formal liaison with your office?"
"Yeah, sure did," Delbart said. "Thanks. Looking forward to working with you."
"Me, too. Once you've met her, we'll go down to the morgue to see if our M.E. has found anything significant. Then we'll visit with our forensics expert. Then we'll settle in here and brainstorm. Okay?"
"Sounds good to me."
Upstairs, they waited briefly while Director Shepard finished a phone call. It was a brief visit—Shepard shook hands with the Metro detective, welcoming him to NCIS, and assured him that she hoped the formal liaison between the two agencies would prove effective in resolving the two cases speedily.
As the two investigators retraced their path down the stairs, DiNozzo raised his eyebrow quizzically and gave Delbart a conspiratorial smile.
Delbart understood exactly what he was being asked for—"Bit of a red-headed bitch on wheels, is she?" DiNozzo answered his question with a laugh.
They made their way to the morgue, where Dr. Mallard and Palmer were bent over the body of the unfortunate petty officer. They nodded toward Delbart, acknowledging his presence.
"What can you tell us, Ducky," DiNozzo asked.
Ducky began his report. "I can assure you that Ms. Adamovsky was in excellent physical condition and generally very healthy. If she had not been shot, she probably would have lived to a ripe old age."
"Anything else at all?"
"Both the entry and the exit wounds indicate a small caliber bullet, but we'll have to wait for Abigail to extract it from the mattress before coming to any other conclusions," the doctor responded. "As we know from finding it in the mattress, it probably went through the brain at reasonably high velocity without causing much other damage. Just enough, though, to kill the victim instantly."
Having learned nothing they didn't already know, the detectives proceeded to the lab, where DiNozzo introduced his companion to Abby. He could see the look of speculation in Delbart's eyes as he observed the goth chick before him. After the introduction, though, Abby whipped around with a flip of her extremely short skirt, which Delbart obviously appreciated. She put up the ballistics findings on the plasma screen.
"Generic .22 calibre slug," she announced. "No brand name. The markings are distinctive, but I need to analyze the gun itself."
"We don't have the weapon," DiNozzo told her. "Could it be a Saturday night special?"
"Good boy," she said, turning to smile at him. "I had that very thought. Now just go out and find it."
"Have you found anything else on the other forensic evidence.?"
"LOTS of fingerprints from the apartment," she said. "but, other than those of the vic and her Navy friends, I haven't been able to find any matches in any database. The good detective's people already sent over copies of all the ones they got at the first scene; nothing there either. We have some more to get, I gather?"
"Yeah" DiNozzo said with a sigh. "We need to talk with her roommate when she gets back to town and her running partner, boy friends, see who else might have been in the apartment."
Delbart commented, "They probably won't tell us anything. If someone is going around killing folks according to some sort of plan, he's probably also planned to wear gloves. Especially since Algawid's scene was clean too."
DiNozzo agreed. "But we'll keep trying. Ya never know."
He turned back to the forensics expert. "Anything on the Bible pages?"
"They're from the same copy," she told them. "You know, of course, that, although the paper for bibles is made to be very thin, it's also made to last for a long time. I can tell you this particular copy has been around for a while because of the color of the pages—very slightly yellowed Other than that, it's not special in any way. The two pages are consecutive—numbers 13-14 and 15-16. It's Genesis, beginning in the middle of Chapter 15 through 19. The story of Abram becoming Abraham. Oh, and it's King James version."
"Are you going to be able to identify it? Could it have been one of the Bibles in use at the soup kitchen Homer Algawid patronized?"
"Possibly, if I could get a copy from them to compare."
"I'll see what I can do." Delbart assured her, pulling out his notebook and writing a note to himself.
DiNozzo went on. "Have you been able to identify any fingerprints on the pages?"
"Oh, there are fingerprints galore," she told him. "Unfortunately, it seems someone wiped them pretty thoroughly before leaving them with the victims, and all that's left are blurry, very faint impressions."
DiNozzo and Delbart exchanged grimaces of disappointment.
"I will do my best to enhance them," said Abby," but I'm not going to make any promises."
DiNozzo thanked Abby, promising her at least one more Caf-Pow! before the end of the day. To Delbart he suggested they return to his desk for the remainder of their discussion.
Once seated at DiNozzo's desk, Delbart nodded at Ziva.
"What's her story?" he wanted to know.
"She's Israeli," DiNozzo said. "An agent of Mossad."
Delbart's eyebrows flew up. "What's she doing here?"
"Sometimes I wonder that myself. She was apparently sent here to learn our investigative techniques. She's supposedly very good at counter-terrorism and assassination and torturing suspects to get information, if you believe everything she says."
"Do you?"
"Believe her? I've seen her in action, and she is very good at getting information from people who don't want to give it. She's also a fast learner."
Delbart voiced his opinion. "Interesting bunch of women you got here. The bitch, the sadistic Israeli, and the weirdo in the lab."
"Don't let their appearances fool you," DiNozzo told him with a grin. "The director's a very experienced agent, the Israeli is a trained assassin, and the weirdo is probably the smartest person in the building."
"Mmph" was the other man's only comment.
"You know," DiNozzo continued, bringing the conversation back to business. "There's something that's puzzling me."
"About the case?"
"Yeah."
"Only one thing?"
"Well, yeah, the whole case really. But what strikes me is that apparently the killer or killers used a very sharp knife for the first killing and then resorted to a Saturday night special for the next one. What kind of message is he trying to send by using two different types of weapon? Or is it a message? Is he maybe just trying to keep us guessing? And where are those weapons?"
"And what about the Bible pages?" Delbart commented. "What do they signify?"
"What about the victims? There doesn't seem to be any apparent connection between them? Is there some method for selecting them, or were they just random folks whose paths crossed that of the killer?"
"We're assuming there's only one killer," Delbart stated. "Maybe the two murders are totally unrelated. Maybe the fact that each one features a page from the same Bible is coincidental."
DiNozzo shook his head. "We don't believe in coincidences around here. There could be more than one person involved, but I'm pretty sure the murders are related."
"There's still a lot of evidence to be processed," Delbart pointed out. "In fact, I think I'll head back to my office for now. I'll check in with you in the morning at the latest."
"Right," DiNozzo replied. "Thanks for coming over."
After seeing the detective to the elevator, DiNozzo returned to his desk. Abby had sent the ballistics report to his computer, which he studied for a while, making notes on that and various other pieces of information.
Looking at the time on the computer screen, he discovered that he'd been with Delbart a lot longer than he realized—it was almost 5:00 p.m. He wasn't getting anywhere.
"You guys got anything that can't wait?" he asked David and McGee. "If you don't, let's call it a day and come back tomorrow with some fresh ideas."
They all left with alacrity.
When he got home, Tony grabbed a beer from the fridge and a TV dinner from the freezer. While he waited for the dinner to heat up, he watched the news on TV. He'd noticed the camera crew at the scene earlier that morning, but had managed to avoid being interviewed by them. Instead, Johnny Delbart stood stolidly in front of the camera, reciting the facts they had known at that time and asking for members of the public to come forward if they had any information on either murder. As the piece finished, Tony nodded with approval. Delbart might look like a frump, but he was good at his job, no doubt about it, and Tony was glad they were working the case together.
When the microwave dinged, Tony took the hot TV dinner into his living room. Once the tray was empty, he looked through the TV listings to see if there any good movies being shown that evening. Nothing. He'd already watched all his DVDs at least once and wasn't really interested in rerunning anything. He picked up the most recent issue of Gentleman's Quarterly from the coffee table to glance through it, but nothing there held his interest either. Sports Illustrated likewise failed to satisfy. He knew it was going to be a bad night.
Once again he picked up the remote for the TV and began to channel surf. Several hours later, he sighed and gave up. In bed, though, he tossed and turned. Occasionally he dropped into a restless doze, but then the vision of the two beautiful, dark-haired women with holes in their foreheads would wake him up.
Once, when he woke up, he could have sworn that Kate was standing beside his bed, watching him. He flopped over onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow with a loud groan. "Kate, dammit, leave me alone. I need some sleep."
The next thing he knew, the alarm went off. He woke almost in a panic, his heart racing and his hand automatically reaching out for a gun. When he realized it was just 5:00 in the morning and he needed to get moving, he calmed down. He was sorely tempted to try to grab a few more minutes of sleep, but years of discipline pulled him out of bed. He padded over to the window, only to see a leaden gray sky that was oozing drizzle.
He pulled on sweat pants and a hooded sweatshirt and headed out. Many people used their morning runs to contemplate the things they needed to accomplish during the coming day, but for Tony, the run was a Zen experience. His mind emptied so that he could concentrate only on putting one foot in front of the other.
Half an hour later, he returned home, slightly sweaty in spite of the chill but with his head cleared of the visions that had disturbed his sleep. A hot shower warmed him, and once dressed, he went to the kitchen where the automatic coffeemaker had done its job. He dropped a Pop-Tart into the toaster and ate his breakfast standing over the sink.
He was just ready to put on his Burberry raincoat and take off for work when his cell rang.
"DiNozzo."
"Morning, Tony, it's Johnny Delbart. We just found another one."
CHAPTER V: Number Three
DiNozzo wrote down the address Delbart gave him. When they hung up, he dialed another number to get the NCIS operator, whom he asked to notify the rest of his team.
A few minutes later, he arrived at the third crime scene, in a pleasant, middle class neighborhood. The house was a smallish two-story, painted white with a green shingle roof. Inside the crime scene tape, he saw a white picket fence, behind which there was a well-kept lawn dotted with various shrubs and a few trees.
Delbart approached as he opened the gate.
"Okay," Delbart began his report. "This victim is a 35 year old male named Benjamin Meissner. He's a CPA who owns a small accounting firm with a partner. The next door neighbor got up at about six to let his dog out, and when he looked over at Meissner's backyard, he saw him out there, lying on his back under a large piece of clear plastic. According to the neighbor, Meissner's married and has two kids, but they're away in Pennsylvania or someplace visiting relatives."
DiNozzo gave him a sharp look but said nothing. Delbart led him around to the back. It looked like the typical suburban backyard—huge propane gas grill on the patio, along with a patio table and chairs, a couple of chaises longues, a swing set near the back fence, a basketball hoop hung over the garage door.
Benjamin Meissner lay under the plastic tarp in almost the center of the lawn, his limbs slightly splayed. At least there was no bullet hole, DiNozzo thought to himself. Even through the tarp, he could see the mottled purple bruises on the victim's neck under the collar of his pajama top.
"Strangled," he noted.
"That would be my guess," Delbart agreed.
"And the Bible page?"
"Right there," replied Delbart, pointing to Meissner's right hand under the tarp.
"Did you put the tarp over him?" DiNozzo asked.
"No, the neighbor says it was there when he saw him."
"Wonder if the tarp was to make sure the page didn't melt or disintegrate or something."
Delbart shrugged.
Ziva David arrived just then.
"There are a lot of people out front," she said to DiNozzo. "Do you want me to begin interviewing?"
"That would be lovely, Ziva," DiNozzo growled in his best imitation of Jethro Gibbs.
Ziva left at the same time Tim McGee arrived on the scene.
"There probably isn't going to be much evidence out here, not with all this moisture" he observed.
"Do it anyway," DiNozzo ordered.
"Right, boss,"
Delbart thumbed DiNozzo's attention to the other side of the picket fence, where an older couple stood under a bright red umbrella.
"The Nortons," he stated. "He's the one that noticed the body and called 911."
"Have you talked to them?" inquired DiNozzo.
"Nope. Thought you might like to do that."
DiNozzo walked over to the couple. Under the umbrella, they shivered in rain gear. The man had his arm clasped protectively around his wife's shoulders.
"Mr. and Mrs. Norton?" he asked them. "I'm Special Agent Tony DiNozzo from NCIS."
"NCIS?" Mr. Norton queried. "The real NCIS? Omigosh, that's my favorite TV show," Mr. Norton went on enthusiastically. "It's kind of a thrill to meet a real NCIS agent."
DiNozzo couldn't help smiling at the man's enthusiasm.
"How come NCIS is investigating here?" the older man wanted to know.
"We have another case that has some similar elements. The victim was a naval petty officer."
"Okay. So you're going to ask me some questions about how I found Ben and all?"
"Absolutely right. Would you like to go inside, where it's a little drier and warmer?"
Mrs. Norton pulled on her husband's jacket. "That's a good idea, Bill."
As she turned around to return to the house, Bill Norton pointed the agent to a gate in the fence. Once he opened it and passed through, he and Mr. Norton followed Mrs. Norton into the house.
Inside, DiNozzo took an appreciative sniff of the scent of freshly-brewed coffee. Mrs. Norton asked if he'd like a cup, which he gratefully accepted. Clicking of toenails on the highly polished floor announced the entrance of a dog of the mutt persuasion, coming to investigate the stranger. He pushed his cold nose into DiNozzo's hand asking for his head to be stroked. DiNozzo complied willingly.
"His name's Duke," offered Mrs. Norton.
Seated with the Nortons at the old wooden table in the center of the small but spotlessly neat kitchen, steaming cup of coffee in hand, DiNozzo took out his PDA.
"Now I understand from Detective Delbart that you got up to let Duke out into the yard at about six, is that right?
Mr. Norton nodded his head.
"I didn't know it was raining, so when I opened the door, I looked up at the sky and then I was looking around and then I saw him over there. Well, I saw the plastic tarp first, and I thought that was kind of odd. Like maybe it was outside and got blown into the yard by the wind or something. I didn't know at the time Ben was under the plastic, but I walked over to the fence to take a closer look, and that's when I knew there was a body under it."
"So the plastic was already over his body when you first saw him?"
"That's right. I ran back in the house to tell my wife and then I dialed 911."
Mrs. Norton was nodding her head with a bobbing motion.
"I took a peek out there, too, "she said. "What a terrible thing. It was very upsetting."
Mr. Norton continued, "We talked about going over there to check, to see if maybe he wasn't dead, or something. But he wasn't moving, and I have a tendency to get bronchitis in the damp." He thumped his chest with a fist, looking apologetic. "At first we thought maybe he'd had a heart attack or something, but when we thought about it, we knew that couldn't be. First of all, what would he be doing out there in the middle of the night? And then how could he have gotten that plastic tarp over himself? It's just not adding up, Agent DiNozzo."
"I agree, Mr. Norton, and you can take my word for it we'll do everything we can to find out how he died, and if someone else caused him to die, who that person is. I understand Mr. Meissner's family is away."
"Oh, yes," Mrs. Norton answered. "His wife is Sarah, and they have two children, Lisa and Ben Junior. Her folks live near Philadelphia so she takes the kids a few times a year up to see them. They left last Thursday, so they'd be there in time for the Sabbath, and they should be back this Thursday." She paused, looking sad. "Well, maybe they'll have to come back sooner now."
"Do you have a number to reach them?"
"Yes," the woman said, getting up from the table to fetch a piece of paper held to the refrigerator door with a magnet. "I wonder if I should call them."
DiNozzo took the piece of paper from her and entered the number in his PDA.
"If you'd rather not, I think Detective Delbart will be happy to do it."
"Good," she said. "It would be a very difficult call to make. I don't want to be the bearer of bad news.
DiNozzo went on, "How long have the Meissners lived in that house?"
Mr. Norton picked up the conversation again. "Well, let's see, when they moved in, Sarah was pregnant with Benny, and he's nine. So a little over nine years." He smiled a little sheepishly. "The missus and I never had any kids of our own, so we kind of adopted them as our substitute grandkids."
Tony smiled at him. "I'm sure they're going to appreciate having you so close to take care of them now.
Only a couple more questions, and then I'll have to go. Did either of you hear anything last night at any time from the direction of Ben's house? Did the dog bark? Have you noticed any strangers hanging around in the last day or so? Noticed anything out of the ordinary?"
The Nortons looked at each other and shook their heads. "Our bedroom's on the other side of the house," the old man replied. "And we're all a little deef, you know. Duke, too. Once we go to bed, we can't hear anything from over there."
Mrs. Norton added, "I took him a plate last night. He's not a very good cook, and I like to take care of him a little when his family's gone. He was fine when I was there."
DiNozzo closed the PDA. "All right," he said, "time for me to go back to work. I appreciate your help, and if there are any more questions, I or one of my team will be in touch with you."
He stood up, then remembered something else. "If you've spent time in the Meissner house, we'll have to get your fingerprints so we can determine if there are any prints there that don't belong."
"Not a problem," Mr. Norton replied, standing up to shake the agent's hand. "You can count on our cooperation."
"Absolutely," Mrs. Norton added. "Oh, I do hope you can find the criminal that did this."
"We'll do our best, ma'am. And thanks for the coffee. It was very good."
After leaving the Nortons' house, DiNozzo returned to the Meissner backyard. While he'd been gone, Dr. Mallard and Palmer had arrived and were preparing Ben Meissner's body for transport back to the NCIS morgue. David and McGee had completed as much of the initial phase of the investigation as they could, considering the lousy weather.
"Okay, let's go back home and get to work," DiNozzo told them. He paused for a word with Detective Delbart, who agreed to do the usual follow-up, including getting fingerprints from the Nortons and the other neighbors, as well as calling Mrs. Meissner. They agreed to meet again around 2:00 p.m. to discuss the case.
At his desk finally, DiNozzo ordered David and McGee to do their preliminary reports a.s.a.p. and then pay visits to the soup kitchen, to the medical records department at Bethesda Hospital, and to the small office where Ben Meissner had his accounting practice to interview the victims' associates. He told them he wanted at least partial reports by 2:00 o'clock so he and Delbart could review them during their meeting. They exchanged looks; he was definitely turning into Gibbs junior.
Once the other agents had gone on their mission, he began entering his notes into the computer. His next task was to pull up the map he'd made yesterday, adding to it the location of Meissner's house. After staring at it for a while, he started to set up a table, making a column for each of the three victims and rows into which he entered the facts about each murder.
Homer Algawid. Age 69. Did volunteer work at a soup kitchen. Homeless; except for a refrigerator carton in an alley. Found there early Sunday morning with his throat slit, and page 13-14 of a King James Bible under his right hand. Never in the service.
Jane Adamovsky. Age 19. Found Monday morning in her apartment, in a complex seemingly favored by young adults, with a bullet hole in her head, and page 15-16 of the same Bible under her right hand. A Naval Petty Officer working in the medical records department at Bethesda Hospital.
Benjamin Meissner. Age 35. Found Tuesday morning under a tarp in his middle-class backyard, apparently strangled, and page 17-18 of the Bible under his right hand. Partner in a small CPA firm.
DiNozzo pulled up the database for all military personnel. He was not surprised that neither Algawid's nor Meissner's name showed up.
So—neither of the men were military, but the young woman was. Interesting—but what did it mean?
He called the lab to verify that the third Bible page found with Meissner was indeed 17-18, which Abby confirmed.
His next call was to the morgue; Ducky had only just begun the autopsy on Meissner's body, but he was able to state almost without reservation that the death had been by strangulation. The pattern of bruises on his neck pointed to a garrote rather than bare hands, but, oddly, there didn't appear to be any particles of fabric on the neck.
Once he'd concluded his conversation with Dr. Mallard, DiNozzo stared at his monitor; there were some patterns, but he wasn't quite able yet to connect them into anything meaningful. He got up and proceeded up the stairs to Director Shepard's office.
Once admitted, he flopped, rather gracelessly for him, into a chair. He recounted for the director's benefit what had been discovered so far.
"Not very much to go on, "she commented drily.
"Yeah," he replied. "I really miss Kate—Agent Todd."
"Non sequitor," Shepard countered.
"Nope, not at all. She was a profiler, one of the best. I could use her now to look at everything and maybe pick up on whatever connections there are."
"Well," Shepard suggested, "we do have several forensic psychologists on staff. Would it help if I call PsyOps and see if one of them could help you?"
"Yeah," DiNozzo said, sitting up straighter in his chair. "Yeah, that might be a good idea. I confess I'm getting nowhere fast."
Twenty minutes later, back at his desk, DiNozzo heard the elevator ding and out stepped a short, round, older woman with graying hair cut exactly like Gibbs'. She was not beautiful, but she had an expressive face that conveyed a sense of considerable intelligence and warmth. He'd seen her around the building from time to time but had never known who she was or what she did. Now she stepped to his desk.
"Special Agent DiNozzo?"
When he confirmed his identity, she introduced herself. "I'm Professor Rose Bennett," she said putting her hand out. "Forensic psychologist."
DiNozzo grabbed her hand, shaking it enthusiastically. "I'm really glad to meet you. I've got some data here, which, if they aren't puzzling, are incomplete, and I could really use your help in trying to make sense of them."
CHAPTER VI. The Professor
The professor was dressed in a silvery pale blue flowing, drapey three-piece pant outfit that concealed some of her more obvious figure flaws, but Tony knew better than to judge her competence by her outward appearance. NCIS was known for hiring the best people in their fields. She also smelled of some delicious perfume, which won her major points with Tony. Her hazel eyes were mild and gentle and her smile sweet.
"What are you a professor of?" he wanted to know.
"Psychology, mostly," she replied. "I did a lot of research when I was younger on sociopathology and the criminal mind and became an expert in forensic psychology at a time when the field was being developed. I did some consulting for NCIS during those years, so when I retired from academia, Director Morrow asked if I'd be willing to continue to be a forensic consultant from time to time." She smiled ruefully. "I never dreamed I'd wind up becoming a paid staff member."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Not at all. It's just that I expected to have more time to play the piano and read and work in my garden in my retirement. But I enjoy puzzles of all kinds, so this work keeps me useful and mentally active. Now why don't you tell me about your puzzle?"
DiNozzo laid out all the facts of the case, using the table he'd created for reference. He showed her the map with the crime locations marked on them. Looking at it, she narrowed her eyes thoughtfully.
"Have you noticed anything about the sites in relation to each other?" she asked.
"Not really," he said. "What do you see?"
"It looks like the sites are equidistant from each other."
He drew a line on the map connecting each site and then measured it.
"Exactly two and a quarter miles apart."
"What's the angle between where line 1-2 and line 2-3 meet?"
He measured it. "165 degrees."
"All right," she suggested, "measure a 165 degree angle at the end of line 2-3 and extend it out exactly two and a quarter miles."
DiNozzo did so and let out a soft whistle of amazement.
"What is it?" the professor asked.
"The line ends right on a building that's used as a Navy warehouse of some sort." He turned to her. "At least, we think it's a warehouse. We've had occasion to question what it's being used for a couple of other times, but nobody here seems to have a high enough security clearance to find out exactly what's going on there. The one thing we know for sure is that it is a Navy facility."
"It looks as though our murderer has been tracing out a path to it," Bennett mused. "It wouldn't surprise me if this warehouse is a target for some other crime. These three murders might be messages of a sort—in a negative way. Red herrings. As heinous as they are, they may signify that something much bigger may be about to happen."
"Yeah," DiNozzo replied. "Something has been really been bothering me about these murders. They seem so senseless otherwise. I have a gut feeling your guess is right on the money." He paused for a moment, studying the map with narrowed eyes. "What else do you see?" asked DiNozzo.
"Well, let's go back to the victims. We have an idea now that they may have been selected deliberately because of where they lived and not so much because of who they were. It's interesting, too, that each of them was alone at the time they were killed."
"Yeah, I kinda noticed that," DiNozzo interjected.
"The homeless man had a place where he spent most of his days, but he slept alone in an alley. The petty officer's roommate was visiting family in another state, and so was the third victim's family."
"Opportunity," murmured DiNozzo.
"Exactly. And another thing. Because of the Bible pages, it may be important that the victims' names seem to indicate possible ethnicity or religious background."
"Algawid. Possibly Middle Eastern and Muslim."
Professor Bennett continued. "Adamovsky. Central Europe and probably Catholic, or at the very least Christian. And Meissner. Jewish?"
DiNozzo picked up the thought. "The pages that were torn from the Bible tell the story of Abram, renamed Abraham by God."
"Believed by many theologians to be the father of the three major religions," the professor said, nodding her head approvingly at DiNozzo's quick perceptions.
DiNozzo looked at the professor. "The victims are connected, just not in any way we would've expected. I have my agents out interrogating the victims' co-workers and acquaintances, but I'll bet we don't find anything useful there because none of that information has any bearing on either the murders or whatever crime is going to follow. I will ask them to check on ethnic backgrounds and religious affiliations."
"Well, everything's useful in some way, but I dare say we've moved beyond the point where that information will tell us anything we haven't already figured out."
"Is there anything else you can help me with here?" DiNozzo asked with a smile.
"Not at the moment, but I'll be at your disposal for anything else that might come up," Professor Bennett assured him.
"Thanks. You really are good at this. You've helped me a lot," DiNozzo told her as she rose to leave. "I hope we can get together again."
"I've enjoyed meeting you, too," she answered with a sweet smile. She paused to look at him appraisingly. "Now I know why the young ladies around here are always talking about that hottie, Agent DiNozzo."
DiNozzo preened—just a little—and laughed out loud when she gave him a playful wink. If she were a little bit younger, he thought, he could show her "hot…." A very nice lady.
He stood deep in thought for a few minutes after the professor left the squad room. His reverie was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. It was McGee reporting that he and Officer David had interviewed people at Algawid's soup kitchen without discovering anything useful except that the dead man had had a hard life that had ended hard. They also asked for one of the Bibles used there, but those were paper-bound and not therefore helpful to the case.
"Did anyone say anything about his religious background?" asked DiNozzo.
"Uh, well, yeah," McGee answered.
"Well, what, McGee?" He did a masterful imitation of Gibbs' bark.
"Uh, they said his father was a Muslim cleric who immigrated here from Palestine in the nineteen-thirties, but Homer himself wasn't a practicing Moslem, and he didn't talk about it much. Probably concerned about attracting unwelcome attention."
"Thank you," he said to McGee with exaggerated politeness. Then he went on. "It's almost noon. Why don't you and Ziva take a half-hour break for lunch, and then do the other interviews this afternoon? Be sure and ask about their ethnic backgrounds and religious beliefs."
McGee readily assented.
DiNozzo told him, "I'm going to be out of the office for lunch, but I'll have my cell if anything comes up. And, remember, I'd like to have your reports on the interviews by two o'clock when Detective Delbart comes in."
McGee was almost able to suppress his groan, but he did manage held his tongue without commenting on the speed that DiNozzo was demanding.
Once he guided his car out of the NCIS parking compound, DiNozzo turned in the direction of that Naval warehouse. When he reached the area, he slowed as he drove past, stretching his neck in various directions as though he were looking for an address. He noted that the warehouse sat in what was a slightly decayed neighborhood of small, run-down houses and other buildings that appeared to house small businesses, none of which seemed to be booming.
He also noticed a substantial number of parked cars along the streets around the warehouse, more than would normally be expected for the number of people who might be employed there and in the other commercial enterprises nearby. Something more than just storage was going on there.
Driving on slowly, at the corner of the next block past the warehouse, he saw a little commercial building that had a lighted sign in a dingy window: "BAR." There was no other identification. He grunted with satisfaction and then made his way back to the office, stopping at a fast food joint to pick up a hamburger, fries, and drink.
After finishing his meal, he worked at his desk, doing his best to correlate the many small bits of information that had accumulated in the case, including Professor Bennett's assessments, but without finding anything more that would advance him toward a solution. He decided he needed to know more about that warehouse, or whatever it was.
At one point, Dr. Mallard called him to report that Meissner had indeed died of suffocation due to strangulation.
"The killer did use a garrote," the M.E. stated. "I can't tell at this point what type of material it was, but I've sent several samples of the neck tissue to Abigail to see if she can tease out any fabric particles. It does appear that whatever was used the killer tied a knot in it to exert maximum pressure on the Adam's apple."
DiNozzo told the doctor not to worry too much about the material of the garrote, that it might not mean anything anyway, but thanked him for his work.
He decided to stretch his legs by walking down to Abby's lab, picking up another Caf-Pow! on the way.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, I was getting really dry, but I'm sorry, I don't have anything new for you right now." She took a long sip from the Caf-Pow! "Do you think this case is frustrating?"
"Yes, Abs," he said, "I do. Keep at it, though. If anybody can find anything, you can."
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips. "Thank you. You know I love Gibbs, but you—I adore you."
Amused, DiNozzo returned her kiss, just a little bit. "I adore you, too. Now get back to work."
She threw him a left-handed salute. "Getting back to work, oh mighty substitute Gibbs."
Chuckling, DiNozzo returned to his desk, dialing McGee's cell number as he went.
McGee and David were on their way to Ben Meissner's office, having just completed their interviews with the staff of the medical records department at Bethesda. Because McGee was driving (he wisely refused to let David drive), he handed the phone to the Mossad agent.
"Jane Adamovsky's been working there for the last year," David reported." She enlisted in the Navy when she graduated from high school. She was hoping to go to college on the G.I. bill to become a doctor, but she became fascinated by the record-keeping function of medicine. Can you believe that? She's been taking some classes to become a records technician. She was well-liked by her colleagues and was getting good performance reports from her supervisor."
"Romantic involvements?" DiNozzo asked.
"Hmm, nothing major. I called her running partner, Jordan. She says Adamovsky dated quite a few guys, but never for very long. I've got a list of names to get in touch with."
"You may not have to," DiNozzo told her. "I'm feeling that her killer isn't anyone she knew before the murder. Same for Meissner, but go ahead and do the interviews at his office. You never know what's going to turn up. I'm going to be leaving the office around three after my meeting with Detective Delbart. When you guys finish up, get back here and write up your reports. I'd like to have them on my desk first thing in the morning, if you can't do them before I leave."
"That's sounds familiar," Ziva murmured before breaking the connection.
Once again, Detective John Delbart showed up in the squad room on the dot of 2:00 o'clock. He had brought with him the final report on the autopsy of Homer Algawid done by Metro PD's medical examiner. DiNozzo glanced at it, but there was nothing new or surprising in it. Death was virtually instantaneous by virtue of the severing of blood vessels, nerves, and the major airway.
DiNozzo shared with Delbart some of the information he had come up with from his agents' interviews and his conversation with Professor Bennett: that the geography of the murder sites might be more important than the victims themselves in determining the why of the crimes. However, he didn't make a point of the fact that the line connecting the murder sites seemed to target the Naval warehouse as a site of interest.
Adding to their mutual frustration with the case, Delbart had nothing else to report. They went down to the morgue together to deliver a copy of Algawid's autopsy report to Dr. Mallard and found themselves some time later listening to one of his interminable stories.
Delbart finally extricated them from Ducky's clutches by pleading he had to leave for a meeting at his shop at 3:30. After saying goodbye to the detective, DiNozzo went to his locker and pulled out a ratty sweatshirt he kept there for emergencies. He hadn't dressed up that day except for his jacket of fine Italian leather, which he didn't feel was appropriate to wear to a dive; otherwise, he was wearing khakis, a turtleneck, and somewhat scuffed loafers, mostly because the day had started out so chilly and drizzly.
It was just past 3:00 o'clock. Once outside, though, he discovered the drizzle had stopped and the sun was making a feeble effort to shine.
Story Notes:
This is a rewrite of, and,I hope, an improvement on, Breaking Up Is Hard to Do that reflects Hiatus 1 & 2 and also includes a different ending for Ziva.
This is Part One, which includes Chapters I through VI. Warnings for language not suited to polite company and expressions of anti-Semitism by some of the characters.
The usual disclaimers about copyright and profit apply.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Three murders--are they related, and if so, how?
Chapter End Notes:
This is a rewrite of, and,I hope, an improvement on, Breaking Up Is Hard to Do that reflects Hiatus 1 & 2 and also includes a different ending for Ziva.
This is Part One, which includes Chapters I through VI. Warnings for language not suited to polite company and expressions of anti-Semitism by some of the characters.
The usual disclaimers about copyright and profit apply.
This is Part One, which includes Chapters I through VI. Warnings for language not suited to polite company and expressions of anti-Semitism by some of the characters.
The usual disclaimers about copyright and profit apply.