Those two words were enough to secure a small frown at the corners of her lips, being filled with dread at the fact that he wasn’t going to take her seriously. Being as shut out to her, Chalking up wounded pride, Nikki found herself filled with a spiteful desire to prove herself. Maybe this had all been a publicity stunt, but it sure as hell didn’t detract from the fact she was capable. She’d done something like this before, she just had to find the patterns.
Standing a bit off to the side of the body, and the broken glass that surrounded it, she’d rest her hands in her coat pockets, chewing on her cheek as she surveyed the area. No security cameras. No alarms. No nothing. Had this been a crime of passion, it was sure as hell a lucky place to do it. As Moreno relayed the information, Nicolette eyed the woman tentatively and shifted her focus from the body towards where the trail of blood led; the guard rails. It was a lovely sight, a view of the upper West Side in all its glory. She noticed a patch of blood on the iron bar, a palm print where he’d grabbed the railing when the first bullet hit him. ❝ He had a nice view of the city in his last moments on earth.❞ She mused, looking out to the skyline before them. ❝ The guy was out here waiting for something, or someone. No one else is out here on the veranda, so he decides to occupy himself watching the streets below him. Somebody comes through the door while his back’s turned, and guns him down- excluding the part where he smashes his head into a priceless glass table.❞ She’d look to him now, her brows furrowed. ❝ So riddle me this, Adler. How does a nobody from south Manhattan end up waiting on the 28th floor of Gregory Hanson’s wicked fancy building complex, only to get shot in the back several times? ❞ She wouldn’t give him time to answer, clasping her hands together. ❝ Now I’m just fishin’ here, but it seems like Ford knew something he shouldn’t have. Hell, by how sloppy this is, maybe he was using that info to his full advantage.❞ She was still gauging how much he’d listen to her theories, even as she followed after him. Perhaps out of need, and out of vindictiveness, she continued on, far from willing to be dragged along quietly. ❝ Hey. Why stop there? Why don’t you relay some info down to whoever’s on the first floor; find the bellman on duty that night and see what he knows. You can do that, right? I mean, this place seems pretty exclusive. If Ford entered the building, he most definitely wasn’t alone. Might narrow down the suspect pool.❞
She allowed an awkward silence to settle for a moment even as she followed her partner back towards the elevator, only imagining what sort of commotion all this would stir up. It wasn’t something she had to try and comprehend for long, as when the elevator doors opened she could hear -as well as see the panicked chatter of several of the tenants who had refused to stay in their flats, it seemed the police presence wasn’t doing much to calm them. She’d look to the small group with an arched eyebrow, before shooting a look at him. ❝ Hey, I’m followin’ youhere. ❞
Irritation struck at Jeremiah’s chords as she denied him the chance to answer, not even willing to offer the hooded glare of his dark eyes. She was right, of course. They wouldn’t have been called to the case if there wasn’t suspicion of foul play between Ford and murderer. Something was off- something bigger than a little quarrel between two angry people. “The bellman is already being questioned. We’re working on contacting security and obtaining the video footage.” Jeremiah interjected, discomfort itching at his limbs at the notion of his shadow telling him what to do. Lawyers, he mumbled to himself.
Annoyance aside, and contrary to his attitude, Jeremiah had to admit D’Angeles’ observations had piqued his interest. All attempts to shut her down seemed futile; no measure of snarky remark or coldness seemed to keep her from wanting to be a part of the case. In fact, she spoke with a wealth of knowledge and intuition that even Jeremiah’s best detectives couldn’t piece together right off the bat. And on top of it all, she refused to keep quiet under her role as a shadow. No partner he’d ever be paired with had challenged him this way, and he wasn’t quite sure if he enjoyed it, or downright loathed it.
The elevator doors opened to reveal the hoard of elites, their plastic complexions plastered with looks of concern and irritation. As if their day was merely inconvenienced by the loss of a life in their building. They made their way over to an older couple - a woman dressed in a fine, royal blue dress and a man in a tailored grey suit. “Mr. and Mrs. Higgs,” Jeremiah extended his arm to shake their hands. “My name’s Detective Adler, and this is D’Angeles. It’s my understanding that you live above Mr. Hanson’s flat?” “Yes, we’ve been neighbours for a number of years now.” Mr. Higgs spoke in a British accent, each word slipping past his lips in remarkable annunciation. “I can’t believe something like this happened so close to our home… it has us all utterly terrified.” Jeremiah offered a sullen nod. “We understand, our team is going to have full surveillance over the area until we catch whoever did this. In the meantime, we were just wondering if we could ask you a few questions about last night.” The couple nodded in response, offering to speak in the quieter setting of their flat and leading the two up and through their doors.
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