2011 06 27: I Just Shot Miki in the Face

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Mission Name: I Just Shot Miki in the Face
Date of Mission: June 27, 2011
Locale: Tenth Floor, The Manchester — Upper East Side - Manhattan

What sort of person would know how to deal with a dead body?

Tamara Thomas Ashley

A little while later, the phone call has been placed and Tamara has spent at least a few minutes putting a bit of effort into addressing her wounds, wrapping her worse hand in gauze and slapping a couple of bandages over a few of the other cuts that haven't yet stopped bleeding. She's still covered in dried blood and her arms look a bit like hamburger meat, but she still looks better than the petite Asian woman, lying dead in the middle of her floor. Limping from her previous leg wound, she makes her way back out to the main room. Veering past the table, she takes a moment to refill her glass and then continues along to the door, peering out into the hallway through the peephole. She seems a bit nervous, truth be told. Then again, she does have a dead body in her apartment.

There's a live body, too, who's been keeping himself busy while they wait. Alternating shifts with Tamara at the door, and with the one arm still at less than 100 percent - it still hurts, but the towel and the drinks are keeping it under control - Thomas focuses his attention on the other now, hauling out anything under the sink that vaguely sounds like it could serve as carpet cleaner. "Hope he gets here soon," he mutters, "or we'll have to get plan B going." Plan B may beat no plan at all, but it's still never a good sign.

It doesn't take Ashley long to come to Tamara's aid. He wraps up whatever he's doing at work and is soon in her familiar hallway, beating down the door with his fist. The amount of blood in the hall doesn't seem to shock him so much as it does make him fear a little for Tamara's safety. "Jesus Christ," he mutters underneath his breath before his knocking grows even more rapid. "Tamara! Open up, let me know you're not dead in there!"

"Plan B. We have one of those?" Tamara wonders as she glances back over to Thomas with a faint smirk, but despite her efforts at humour, she tips back a goodly-sized sip of her drink as she turns back to the door. She jumps slightly when there's a pounding at the door, especially since she's still standing so near to it. There's some relief - and some different sort of worry - in her features when Ashley's voice comes through the wood. Either way, Tamara is quick to throw back the latch and open the door. "Not dead," she assures him, as she gestures him into the unit with a bit of urgency. "I am … in a bit of trouble." If she's admitting that, the circumstance must truly be dire. While she waits for Ashley to step inside, she takes a moment to peer past him down the hallway, glad to see it's still otherwise clear.

Thomas makes a face. "We did, but after waiting this long, probably more like throw her out a window." If the window is large enough. And if it opens without needing to be smashed. Oh, but plan A is going forward after all, it seems. "Good to meet you," he offers to Ashley, looking up and waving a hand. "Someone decided to not be so friendly."

Lucky for Tamara, Ashley's brought his medical bag with him this time. When he sees the state of her arms, his eyes widen considerably and he marches almost right past the dead body smack in the middle of her apartment before he lets out a quiet noise of surprise. "Tamara, what the Hell happened here?" He asks her. It doesn't even seem a question worth asking at this point because he just sighs and makes a dismissive hand motion. "I don't want to know. Let's get you patched up so I can get out of here and pretend I never saw any of this." It's only now that he notices Thomas too, his eyes widening. "And you have accomplices? Wonderful. You said you weren't going to involve me…" He takes a few long strips of gauze of his medical bag, along with some alcohol cleanser. "I don't want to know which of you wasn't so friendly."

"What it lacks in subtlety, it makes up for in simplicity," Tamara replies with a glance towards the window. Just the same, she's glad it doesn't have to come to that. Or at least not yet. She's still very aware Ashley could very well refuse to help with what she's going to ask him. Once Ashley is inside the apartment, the woman quickly shuts and locks the door behind him, before turning back to face them both. "Well," she begins as though to answer his question, but that's as far as she gets before he cuts her off. "I'm fine. I didn't call you to patch me up." She spares a glance for Thomas, but refrains from introductions under the circumstances. If they choose to reveal themselves to one another, that'll be their own doing. "It's, uh. That," she explains, gesturing towards the body that's quickly beginning to reach room temperature. She watches him with a bit of concern, and does at least have the good grace to seem a bit guilty about involving him after all - just not guilty enough to avoid it.

"I was talking about her," Thomas explains, gesturing toward Miki's body with visible annoyance. "If she hadn't shown up and tried to cut open everyone she met, then all three of us would be having a nice quiet night." He glances over toward Tamara, not offering a name either, nor asking for the newcomer's; probably just as well they leave those out of this. On the other hand, since hers is already out in the open: "Goddammit, Tamara, you called him out here and he didn't know why? I'd be upset too, I were him." Yeah, everyone's on edge tonight, surprise surprise.

"Your arms look like hamburger!" Ashley points out to her. "That's not 'fine'." He looks toward Thomas and notes his wound too, looking puzzled at where to start first. He raises a brow when Thomas and Tamara both indicate the dead body. "Yeah, I don't think I can patch her up." The coroner simply says to her, seeming rather unwillingly to do so. He doesn't take any steps closer to the body, but simply starts to move toward Thomas. He seems like a reasonable young man.

"You're not helping," Tamara informs Thomas in a tight tone that she tries to keep light. Looking back to Ashley, she lets out a sigh. "I'm not dead, which is more fine than I might have been," she points out, glancing down at her arms with a slight frown before dismissing them - she has better things to worry about right now. Looking back up, she realizes that Ashley is already moving off towards Thomas. Tamara tips back another big swallow of her drink. "I need help dealing with this, and I didn't know who else to call," she finally states plainly.

Thomas shakes his head, walking over to pour himself another drink, then offers the bottle back to Tamara— hers looks to be getting low again. Does Ashley feel like a round as well? "My place is just down the hall, so if you need extra materials or a pair of hands or something, let me know. She's been torturing her leg long enough as it is."

Ashley narrows his eyes at Tamara, furrowing his brows. "You mean that you didn't know any mafia types to call who could give her cement shoes and dump her in the canal?" He asks her, in a tone that suggests he finds that very hard to believe. He takes in a breath and nods to Thomas when the man makes with the drinks. "Tamara, why should I help you do this? You've maintained that you don't want to get involve and now you're asking me to dispose of a corpse in an unlawful manner? If I get caught doing this, it couldn't just be my job, it could be my freedom. This is a serious offense…" He trails off there and stares at the dead body. "If it was her fault and she attacked you, why can you not call the cops exactly?" He pauses. "Except, you know, now that you've moved the body and all."

"Maybe if this were Prague, but I don't normally deal in dead bodies," Tamara replies, frowning slightly as she reaches out to take the offered bottle from Thomas. She's beginning to get the feeling she's going to need it. "Look, fine, forget it. I thought maybe you'd know something, someone. If you can't help, then just … you should probably go." She doesn't say that angrily, but if he doesn't want to be involved, she's already made him an accomplice after the fact. She sets the bottle back down and heads for the kitchen to get Ashley a glass, despite just having told him to leave. "Police and I don't exactly see eye to eye." She takes a long swig of her drink and then looks to Thomas. "Might be the window after all," she states wryly. "God, I've fucked this up," is added to no one in particular, although she toasts the sentiment towards the ceiling and then drains her just-refilled glass.

Prague, huh? Right next door to where Thomas used to hail from. In a manner of speaking. As she explains her predicament to Ashley, he nods silently - same goes for him, plus he was already well into accomplice territory by the time Ashley showed up - and gets up to pace, drink ignored as he thinks things over again. Does he really not have any better options than that? All offense and no defense makes Johnny a dead agent.

Ashley seems to consider this unique situation before he sighs. "I'm a county coroner, not a two-bit hood. I don't know anyone who disposes of bodies at the drop of a hat." He looks over at Thomas, then to Tamara. "But lucky for you, I guess now you do. So tell me, which one of you has the most trunk space?" Ash asks the two of them, looking over at the body. "She's small, so we won't need much, but we're going to have to wrap her up a few times to make sure that there's no… leakage." He glances over to Thomas. "Do you have any tarp in your apartment? Maybe spare bed sheets? Furniture cover? One of you better decide whose car we're using."

Tamara frowns slightly when it Ashley points out that he isn't a hood, and she does seem willing to accept that he isn't going to help, without even any hard feelings. He actually manages to surprise her a little when he changes his tune and suddenly takes charge. "My car doesn't even have a backseat," she notes. "The trunk is pretty small. But she's my mess. I can get a bigger car if she won't fit." Not legally, but it may be the least illegal thing going on here right now. "Thank you. Both of you. I hate needing help, but…" She trails off, waving her glass in the vague direction of the body. But she's clearly in over her head, as much as she hates to admit it. "I've got some bed linens, I think," she adds.

Thomas shakes his head. "Mine is bigger, she'll fit. And I've got some materials if you don't have enough here." He goes over to the door and looks out - nope, coast is still clear out there - then turns back to face Ashley. "If you can store her with the Jane Does for a little while, I can get someone to take her off your hands— I just need more time, that's all. Nobody should have any reason to notice her while she's there, right?"

"Don't thank me yet. You owe me huge for this." Ashley says to Tamara. Since it was her mess and the other, younger gentleman seems not to be terribly involved save for his wound, he doesn't lay the blame there. He shakes his head at Thomas. "No, we're gonna do this clean. I know a place where about three overdoses a week happen. We can drop her off there and no one will be any the wiser until, of course, they examine her a little more closely. All we have to do is put her in the dumpster…" Ashley says, staring down at the ground as he puts the pieces of this plan together before he nods his head. "That's how we'll do it. Alright, let's start wrapping her up. I guess it would be easier if we could use my hacksaw to cut her up, but time is of the essence, and I don't want to defile her more than she already has been."

"I know," Tamara replies quickly, not about to debate the hugeness of her owing him under the current circumstances. At a rare loss for words, she heads towards the hallway, but stops at a small door beside the washroom, which opens onto a linen closet. Grabbing pretty much every sheet set she owns - which isn't terribly many, but they are of a high thread count, at least - she lobs them into the living room, allowing them to just fall to the floor for now. It seems a bit moot to try to keep them nice, and it saves her from walking back and forth with multiple handfuls.

Thomas owes him as well, but he'll think about that later, once he finds out what he actually wants for his trouble. For now, he stays focused on the situation at hand, taking another look outside and then ducking out and down the hall. A few minutes later, he returns with another armful of sheets, topped by a nice thick afghan— nice except for all the pinky-size holes, not much good for concealment on its own. "I think we got enough," he says, examining the piles. "You two okay getting her wrapped up? I should move my car closer to the elevator, otherwise we got to carry her another hundred feet."

Ashley nods over at Thomas. "Yes, it won't take but a minute. Thank you." He says to the other man as he lays the sheets out on the floor and then moves over to pick Miki up in a surprising show of strength, setting her down on the first layer of sheet gently before he rolls her up in it. It's almost uncanny how a proper county coroner seems to be so at ease with doing it — but chances are, he's seen enough of it to have a good handle on it how these sorts of processes work. "Where are the rest of your neighbors? Does anyone not notice someone having what I assume is a bloody, gory shoot out in the hallway?" Ashley asks them as he goes about layering the dead girl in Tamara's expensive sheets, putting the afghan on last.

"Yes, thank you," Tamara echoes as she emerges from the hallway again, carrying the last few linens she could find that were of suitable size. "Bringing the car closer is definitely going to help things along. And the wrapping, uh, seems to be a one-person job." She's more than just a little surprised at how efficiently Ashley is dealing with the problem, but refrains from commenting on it. Instead, she stands nearby, holding the last few sheets out to him with a sort of questioning expression to her features, trying to get a read on his feelings about all of this. "I don't know. I haven't canvassed the hallway for their opinions yet." Realizing sarcasm, even if not said unkindly, is not her best tactic here, she changes tacks. "I really don't know. No one showed up last time either. Luck, I guess?"

Thomas arches a brow, walking around the body and peering closer. "Nice work," he muses. You never really know a person until they're dragged out of their comfort zone, do you? "I think everyone else nearby is either asleep or out partying. Or sleeping it off after going out and partying." With that, he steps out again, making a quick dash for the elevator car as he fishes out his keys.

"You seem to have the luck of the Irish," Ashley responds in kind to Tamara as he finishes wrapping the dead girl in the sheets and afghan. He smirks at Thomas's compliment about his 'wrapping job' before nodding. "I can lift her up when he comes back up," he remarks to Tamara before looking over at her. "The next time my parents want me to attend a charity function, you have to come, no matter what. And you have to pay for your own dress," Ashley says, as if that's going to get her where she lives. "No ifs, ands, or buts, and you have to play nice the entire time. And that's just the tip of the iceberg."

"God bless New York," Tamara says, shrugging after she considers Thomas's explanation for a moment. As he dashes off to get the car, Tamara looks back to Ashley, offering him a little smile as he comments on her luck. "The fates just seem to favour me," she concurs with some dry amusement. As he lays out his conditions - or at least the initial ones - she tries to hide some of that amusement, managing to nod quite seriously. "All right. That seems … fair." It really doesn't, but it's unfair to her advantage, and she's not about to push her luck there. "I'll be good." She glances towards the door, and then down at herself. "If you don't need me for this, perhaps I should change my shirt." She is a bit bloody.

Ashley glances Tamara up and down. "You're going to let me look at those wounds and so isn't your gentleman friend." There's no disapproval in Ashley's voice when he says the latter two words, though he does get ready to hoist the dead girl into his arms and wait by the front door. Luckily she's not so heavy and he's stronger than he looks, apparently. "It's not actually that fair, but it's a start. If you make me miserable, I get to make you miserable. I figure that's how friendship works, right?" Ashley asks her, seeming unperturbed by the thought that he is currently holding a dead body.

"Fine. After we're done with this, you can look at whatever you want," Tamara replies, choosing that particular phrasing deliberately, even if she doesn't go overboard with imbuing it with suggestiveness. She does seem sort of impressed with how easily he hefts the body, but she's not terribly surprised he's all right with handling dead people, considering his profession. "Is it?" She's not sure that's how friendship works, but it could be, for all she knows. "A charity function isn't actually all that upsetting to me, so depending on how miserable I've made you, you may need to try harder." Leaving it at that, she begins to scoot back towards the bedroom to quickly swap into a clean shirt, still finishing with the buttons as she emerges from the bedroom a few moments later.

Just in time for Thomas to let himself back in, in fact, nearly whacking Miki in the head before he draws it back again. Not that she'd have been any worse off if he had, of course. "Car's ready to go," he says, "everything still good up here? Loud party going on down on the third floor, I'll run interference in case they try to stick their noses in."

Ashley nods to Thomas in understanding as he gets ready to whisk the dead girl out the door, seeming not to have noticed how close Thomas came to whacking her in the head. "Alright then. Let's do this so that we can get both of your wounds tended to and then I can go back to not committing major felonies." He says, making a mad dash for the elevator.

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