Scene setting: Elissa’s Apartment
co-written with VunG.
Razorbackwriter: By now, all three would be feeling drained after being up all night, having been shot at, hospitalized and interrogated for being at Joey Patone’s apartment. But it was late in the afternoon, and Tommy had yet to even call in to his office about his whereabouts and the photographs he still had thanks to Frank. Driving Elissa to her apartment, Tommy knew he was going to have to show his face at the office of the New York Times sooner or later. As much as he wanted to see Elissa settle in at home, he knew he would have to keep moving. Frank; who was sitting in the back seat with Elissa had no intention of going into the Police station till he had heard from Isa. Without his service revolver he felt practically naked.
The traffic was building up as many workers would start to head out of the city, and Frank stared out the window at the procession of cars, trucks and taxis. In the back of his mind he was worried about what the Commander was going to do. Everything hinged on Isa’s report that he was not the shooter. Taking out his cell he quickly checked for messages and there were none, not even from his partner; Detective John Moss. Frank wouldn’t be surprised if John asked for a transfer. John had a wife and a life outside of the force, unlike Frank and John’s wife was sick of the long hours John put in babysitting Frank.
Soon, Tommy’s car pulled up outside Elissa’s apartment building but he kept the car running. Turning in his seat, with his arm draped over the passenger seat, he looked guilty about having to leave the pair.
“I’d come up, but I want to go to see my Editor about the pictures. The story has to be told, or at least investigated further. I want to reach my editor before your fat ass Commander does.”
Frank gave a sigh and nodded as he handed over the crumpled envelope that contained the only pictures of the beast that took Rory. The cops had the others thanks to the Commander, and Frank genuinely believed that those photos would never see the light of day. Swallowed by the same means of all the other evidence that seemed to vanish into thin air.
“I’ll take Elissa up.” Frank said, before getting out of Tommy’s car and going around to open Elissa’s door. He offered his hand to her to help her out of the car and onto the pavement.
When the door closed, Tommy indicated and then pulled out onto the street to head to his office, leaving Frank standing there with Elissa. He glanced up at the apartment building and uttered. “Nice place…..”
VunG: Elissa felt like she was about to pass out at this point. She hadn’t slept well even before this whole mess had started, and between two sleepless nights, getting shot at, getting into two separate verbal fights with the damn Commander, and now busting out of the hospital she was utterly and completely beat. She was grateful that she was self-employed, because she didn’t envy anyone that had to go to an office tomorrow. Actually, she was fairly certain she may have blacked out for the entire drive over, because it almost looked like the clock was skipping a few times. As much as she wanted to deny it to herself, Elissa wasn’t in any condition to help the guys.
Once they arrived at the apartments, she’d turn and nod to Tommy at his comments, knowing full well that he probably had more than his share of work to do, even after all this. If the commander decided to head off the news on this, then they would be shut down pretty damn quickly. Smiling feebly to him, she attempted to sign ~Thank you,~ though it was pretty ‘slurred,’ if you want to use that term. Besides, he probably had his own life to live besides baby-sitting her, same went for Frank, regardless of what he said. Sighing softly, she took Frank’s offer of helping her out, still feeling a bit woozy but refusing to let it show any more than it needed to.
And then, just like that, Tommy was gone, the two of them left alone. Strange… she didn’t really feel like she was coming home. Then again, how much time had she actually spent here? Upon hearing Frank’s words, she scoffed lightly and shrugged with her good shoulder, conceding that it probably was. She just never felt really all that at home here. Slowly she began moving her way into the building, using the railing but refusing any offered help, firmly deciding that she needed to handle herself. That said, she wasn’t too proud to use the escalator up to the third floor. Assuming Frank followed her on up, she’d be pretty much dead on her feet the whole time, though just as they exited the elevator he’d hear her hiss as she felt the first hints of the anesthetic wearing off.
Once to room 302, she pulled out her keys and opened the door, gesturing for Frank to follow her, if for no other reason than getting him something to drink. She wouldn’t bother with the door herself, at the moment she only had eyes for the restroom; specifically a bottle of painkillers. Though, before she went there, she stopped herself and gestured to the main room and to him in a way that kind of suggested she was trying to tell him to make himself at home. With that, she was away, leaving him alone for a little bit.
The room was probably higher-quality than the actual furniture and appliances she’d brought into it. The refrigerator and such things that came with it were all quite nice, upper-middle-class things, but she seemed to be a bit of a budget shopper as most of it was nice but far from fancy. All around the room there were various pictures, some of them simple landmarks from everywhere from Paris to Tokyo to Las Vegas, others of people and events in her life, and they varied wildly in size too. Her mother was a bit of a shutterbug and had sent a lot of the pictures to her, though if Frank was paying attention he’d notice that in none of her pictures she had a scarf, even when it was snowing. The most common figures in the pictures were either her parents from when she was young or her husband, a man of Native American heritage, about her height and about the same weight, both of them displaying their bands in the pictures. However, the pictures were all pre-pregnancy; she had no interest in haunting herself like that. Besides that, the only thing of note was a cork board near her desk with various pins and yarn set next to it, suggesting a similar set up to his own at home, just not one that was in use at the moment.
Razorbackwriter: Frank trudged along silently behind Elissa. He had to hand it to her. The way she was keeping up appearances after the last two days was remarkable. A lesser man would have crashed out in the car. Following her into the escalator, Frank stood with folded arms as the lift rode up to the third floor, where he got out after her and continued to stay in behind her till she reached her door. He paused for a moment at the door, till she gestured him to follow. “Thank you.” he said simply, entering after her and letting her close the door. For a single girl in this town, she had a pretty spacious apartment. Tastefully decorated and neat. Elissa showed him with the wave of her hand what part was the main room and to more or less make himself at home. The detective offered a light smile, but knew when she headed into her bathroom that she was probably going to be getting some aspirin or painkillers. The drugs from the hospital must be wearing off by now, and the light hissing sound that she made indicated to Frank at least that she was in pain. Slowly, Frank removed his jacket; all the while checking out the array of photographs on the wall. They say that family photos are a way of looking into your past, your family..those you love. Being a detective Frank had a good eye and was able to spot right away that most, if not all these photos were taken before she had her accident. He noted that she didn’t wear a scarf in any of the photo, and time and again there were pictures of her with another man – presumably her husband. Frank walked right up to the wall, that was covered in photos from all over the globe. What a life Elissa must have led.
Elissa, like Frank had tragedy strike them both. Each had a story. They were more alike than one would dare say. Frank suddenly felt very uncomfortable, like he had stumbled across something that was private. Elissa wasn’t a case, and he shouldn’t be trying to deduct from the pictures just what happened to her husband. Frank wiped the underside of his nostrils and shaking his head slightly.
“You should be okay now. I know you don’t need a dead beat cop on your couch.”
Frank was about to head for the door, when suddenly his cell phone went off in his pocket. Fidgeting to get it out, he answered “Detective Malone.”
It was Isa. Frank stopped dead in his tracks and noted that she was whispering. “Isa…what’s wrong? Where are you?”