2019-06-09 - Squad Car Interrogation

Mostly, since she has permission from the department, Andi is always using her squad car over her personal vehicle. So that's what was parked outside the Waffle Shoppe. After getting in she opens the passenger door for Alexander to join her, leaving it off for the moment as she makes no moves to depart from the parking lot. "What all are you wanting to know about my Great Uncle Mitchell and the Mortuary?" Straight and to the point.

Alexander gets in the passenger seat. FRONT seat, thank you very much - although he's definitely been in the back of similar vehicles before a time or two, when he proved too annoying to someone without Andi's infinite patience. He studies the interior of the car with a thoughtful expression. "The Virgin Mary showed me an image of the mortuary burning. I want to know who did it and why. Research has been required." His eyes focus on her. "Led me to you. Your Great Uncle Mitchell, at least. You seem to know of the situation, and were concerned that I asked."

"There are extenuating circumstances. I don't know who burned it down. I know what the rumor was, but everyone was investigated and proven to be innocent. So what you've uncovered, I can't say. A lot of bad things happened around that time, after the mortuary burned down. And now my Great Uncle, Aunt and both of their children are deceased. It's why I asked. The question I want to ask now is why are you bringing all of this up now?" Andi studies him, there's no ill intent on her features, just concern.

"What sort of bad things? And what sort of rumors?" Alexander shifts in his seat, turning to face Andi more squarely. "Why?" He shakes his head. "Why not now? Things are changing, Detective. Think about the room we just left. Five of us, sharp against the fabric of the world. New people coming into town. Some people working with the Shadows." He runs his hands through his hair. "Things are changing. And the WHY might be in the past. In things that were covered up, buried, burned to ash. So. I ask."

"You brought up the subject saying you researched. What is it you've found out that I should know? It's my family. I've always wondered and I've never known. I know who inherited the mortuary lands and what happened to them after that. Pretty sure the land claim office could have given you that information. Or is that why you've come to me?" Andi rests her forearms on the steering wheel and stares out at the dreary day outside the windshield. "So you think if we all pool our information, the original families, that we can find where we went wrong? Or maybe we tore the fabric of the veil between the worlds? Do you think I've not thought of that? We have to cover up things here or we'll have so many outsiders here investigating it'll knock us all out of our place."

Alexander raises an eyebrow. "I don't like cover-ups. Never liked them." Then one of his half-smiles. "Which, I guess, is one reason why you get to be a cop. And I get to be a crazy person." His head ducks then, and he squirms around, hissing a bit as his shirt pulls over his torso when he reaches into his back pocket - there are bandages on his chest, only obvious when the fabric is pulled taut. He sits back down, with a small flip notebook in his hand. "I found a book," he says, as he opens the notebook - the notes on the pages are neatly written. "About the many tragedies of Gray Harbor. All our dirty little secrets. Did some digging. Found a lot of the big ones, the mass deaths or disappearances or suicides or accidents or," a huff of air, "we have so many horrors to choose from. But I found that many of them had victims that all came from the same lineage. A lineage that has been, as far as I can tell, erased with cold deliberation from local history. Why burn a mortuary?" A glance at her. "Maybe to ensure certain death records are lost."

Of course there's a glance over at him and the notebook, but Andi first and foremost notices the bandages when he leans just so. Brows lower, but she doesn't ask immediately, affording him his privacy. For now. "You probably know more about the coverups than I do then, if you know about big and mass ones, town secrets. I'm not privy to most of that. It's above my pay grade." Oh but then he continues and Andi stiffens a little. She's going to ask even though she looks afraid of the answer. "What lineage?" Bracing herself.

"Some," Alexander allows. "But there are more secrets in this town than I could know," he adds, a touch dry, "even with people's feelings hammering at my head day and night, and traps filled with history everywhere you turn. Call it a target-rich environment." He doesn't look up from his notebook. "Baxter. Oh, I guess everyone who gives a damn knows the basic story of the Addingtons and Baxters, and there's that business in the park. But other than that? No Baxter graves, no graves /connected/ to Baxters. May have a lead on that, but haven't been able to meet up with the person who was looking into it, yet. And then we get a vision from a tiny statue about the mortuary and the wealthy woman who burned it down. Or saw it burned down. She didn't look like the type to sully her hands. She looks /familiar/ to me, but I haven't been able to place her. Yet." Now he looks up, dark eyes meeting hers. "What bad things happened after the mortuary burned, Detective?'

It may not be such a well kept secret, but it was one that Andi didn't flaunt or even share to anyone outside her family. "It's not generally something talked about within my family. Did you get a name with the wealthy familiar looking woman?" Every single bit of information she gives is so very grudgingly given, even closing off her features for a moment long enough to keep him from reading her if possible. "I know who you're talking about. Her name, her lineage. She was a Baxter. Her name was Suzanne. And she owned the mortuary with my uncle Mitchell along with their two children. And she did not burn it down."

Alexander's eyes narrow. "The records mentioned that Mitchell had a wife named Suzanne," he admits. "Not her maiden name. Not her picture. Do you have a picture?" His hands worry at the notebook, shifting it from one hand to the other - nerves or eagerness, it's hard to tell.

"There may be on in the family photo album at home. I can check with my parents when I go visit Krissy tonight. Or you can come with me. I'll be sitting with Krissy tonight while my parents take their weekly night out. We can look through the albums and see what we can find." Andi frowns. "Why is this so important to you? I expect you will not go sharing this news?"

"You're inviting me to your home, Detective?" Alexander looks skeptical. "Not what I tend to expect. I would not mind seeing the pictures. The woman I saw...she was happy the mortuary was burning. "She and her accomplice drove away, and he was younger than her - but similar in features. Your Suzanne. Did she have a younger brother? I don't think it was a son. I had...suspicions. But if the pictures match up, then why? Why would she burn her own damned business? She could hide anything she needed to." He slumps back in the seat, running his hands through his hair - or trying to. He nearly stabs himself with the spiral wire of his notebook, so has to drop that in his lap before completing the motion. "And it's important because things are /changing/. People are /coming/. They stand out. The Shadows have allies. Human allies. People are getting lost. The past may be connected to the present, may give warning of the future."

"Alexander, you may be branded crazy by some of the most judgmental people in town, but you're harmless when it comes to hurting others deliberately. You'd no more hurt me than you'd hurt any of the others from Waffle Shoppe earlier." Andi puts on a full blown frown then, "Happy? I don't know. She was institutionalized afterwards. She was accused of buring it down also. She was cleared of it." Again, the frown and it deepens. "She had a younger brother, but I don't really know anything at all about him. She was rumored to be crazy, so you can guess why I don't flaunt my relation. There's more to say, more to know. Let's go to my place and check out photos. Maybe we'll find out for sure positive whether it was her in the vision or not."

"You don't KNOW that, Detective!" Alexander's expression shifts from its regular dullness to an amalgam of rage and guilt in a single moment. He doesn't shout, but his words are sharp enough to cut. "You don't fucking KNOW that, so don't pretend that you DO. I am not HARMLESS." He jerks in the seat, then gasps, huddling in on himself, hands going to rub at his head. "Sorry. Sorry. I didn't mean to." Another gasp. "Fine. If you want. Your house." If that's still on the table after THAT little display. His phone goes off as he sits, and he actually screams a little, before fumbling it out of his pocket and staring at the screen. He's cool. This is cool.

Yeah the outburst wasn't expected but Andi doesn't even flinch when he has it. Instead, she waits calmly for him to finish, and as soon as it's gone, about as soon as it started, she reaches out a hand to his shoulder, gently touching him there. "Alexander." Her words are soft, her tone as indulgent and patient as ever and no where near condescending. "I do know. I'm not saying you are harmless. You wouldn't hurt me though. I have that faith and confidence in you." A gentle clasp and she takes her hand back, reaching down to start the car. Headlights go on since it's raining, but the other lights and sirens remain off. She backs out then pulls out of the parking lot to take the drive to her parents house. "Everyone has a breaking point. Even me. But mostly, I just ask myself is it worth the explosion I'd make getting to that point? And most often I find it's not. I pick and choose my battles." The drive takes very little time. The city isn't that big. Soon, she's pulling into the drive and parking beside an SUV. "We can go relieve my parents and talk some more. Come on." Getting out, she waits for him before locking the door behind them. Waiting for him she'll approach her childhood home on Spruce with him.

Alexander texts, huddled over the phone. That's rude. It does seem to help calm and focus him, along with her words. He doesn't even bail from the car to get away from her hand, although Alexander is generally a No Physical Contact sort of guy. The curve of his spine gradually relaxes, and faster once her hand is withdrawn. "You have a lot of faith, Detective. I'm not sure I share it. I wouldn't," a pause, "I wouldn't want to. If I did." By the time they reach their destination, he's sitting upright again, and even manages to smile, just a bit. "You sure you don't want to leave me in the car? Sneak me in after they're gone."

"I'm sure. I'd never keep anything from my parents. Not when it's such a small town and I'd get caught anyway. Besides, Krissy can communicate." Andi does wait for him, but it becomes a moot point when her parents come out and offer her a few blown kisses and they call out a few words before getting in the SUV and heading out. Apparently they had immediate plans. With a rueful look she walks over to the open door to the house and she sees why they went ahead and left. Krissy was fast asleep in her adjustable hospital bed. Which could be seen through the open bedroom door through the living room. Motioning him to come inside, she waits there, prepared to close the door behind him.

"You'd be surprised what you can hide if you really try," Alexander says, voice dry. He does get out, though, stuffing the phone in his pocket and following her. He even manages to stand up straight and look...slightly less creepy as the parents leave, nodding politely-if-stiffly to them, and just being careful not to say...anything, really. He follows her inside when they're gone, looking around with impolite levels of interest. Krissy is stared at - but it's in the same way he stares at /everything/.

Krissy remains fast asleep despite the unerring stare and Andi looks in on her, closing the door most of the way, leaving it cracked so she could hear her if she woke. Walking over to a closet she reaches inside and takes out an oversized photo album. A sweep of her hand indicates the big couch. It's a little threadbare but mostly covered by an afghan that looks hand made. Little doilies dot available surfaces and a few candles here and there. The house is clean if a little cluttered. It looks like a family lived there, raised their kids and still stored memories of the childhood. Andi looks comfortable. "Do you need anything to drink before we start?"

Alexander walks slowly, on the balls of his feet, like a man anticipating an ambush. He takes in the decor. "Homey." It's not derogatory; it's even a little complementary. He moves to the couch at her gesture, and sits down, gingerly, watching her. "Ah...no thanks. I'm fine." A wary look towards the kitchen, then back to her. "Thank you. For this. You could have just told me to fuck off, Detective. Especially after the," he waves his hand, vaguely. And at least his quiet voice doesn't carry the swear very far.

In vain possibly, for an ambush never comes, but Andi seats herself on the couch and once he is seated beside her, she places the album across both of their laps before opening it, then turning the page towards herself as she flips past the written part. The Johnson Family. It brings a smile to her, but she continues to the first page of pictures. These are the older ones. Chronololgically displayed beginning at a couple of old old ones of her great great grandparents. They are almost too small and faded to get many details. Then there's a creepy one of an infant in a small coffin. A baby deceased shortly after birth. She waits a moment for Alexander to look his fill, but she knows these are older than what he is looking for. Still she waits for him to indicate he's ready to move on. "I don't mind helping you out," she reassures.

Alexander devours the picture album. He doesn't try to touch the pictures, or even the film that protects them, but his expression is rapt, and he lingers on the pictures even though they're not exactly of the right time period. "My family doesn't really keep records like this. Some. But not this many." He leans down to study the faded ones, eyes flicking back and forth. When he eventually looks up and offers her a brief, but real smile, he says, "Thank you." Then the smile shuts off. "Although you've been dodging my question. About what happened after the mortuary burned. Your great-aunt was committed, you mentioned. Investigations regarding the fire. Anything else?"

"Lobotomies were banned in the late 60s." Andrea says quietly but with a very troubled look. She turns the page, more pictures, wrong time frame, but she turns to the next one, slowly. Then there it is. Pointed out just as she says. "In my family rumors insist that Suzanne wound up getting a lobotomy while she was upstate, and that's how she was ultimately released." The picture is a little fuzzy, out of focus mostly, a black and white. SHe's a plain faced woman with fair hair. The picture was taken on the front porch of the mortuary when the kids were little and they are in it also. The husband seems to be the one behind the camera with the way the kids and Suzanne are looking at the cameraman. It's the only photo they ultimately find of her. Andi holds her breath a moment before releasing it. "Is she the one you saw laughing in the vision?"

"Assholes." It's low but it's vicious, Alexander's temper flaring up again as his hands curl into fists. Then, slowly, release. He takes some deep breaths, and studies the photos. "Monstrous practice. I'm sorry." When she points at the picture, he leans closer to study it. "Ahhh." A low, rusty chuckle as his head rises. "No. That's not the woman I saw at all. But if your Suzanne was a Baxter, then it adds a little piece of circumstantial evidence to who I think the woman /was/." He turns to study her. "What happened to her children? Your branch of the line inherited, not them. That's odd."

"Uncle Mitchell and Aunt Suzanne both left town with the mortuary insurance money left to both of their kids. Mark and Jamie, their kids, ended up dying in a head on collision with a drunk driver a few years later. There wasn't much left of the money by then but the rest of it and that plot of land at the end of Oak was passed along to my grandfather. He sold it to the Addingtons in the 70s and they built a triplex there which they have been renting out ever since." Andi recites the old family story but she does seem relieved it's not the woman he saw laughing. "So do you think it was an Addington?" She hates to voice the suspicion but she just blurts it right out.

"And /that/ is why you are a detective, and moderately more tolerable than most of your local peers," Alexander murmurs, looking downright pleased. He glances back at the photo. "I don't think it's just an Addington, Detective. Considering the facial features, the date, the younger relative? I think it was the Old Lady herself. A little less old at the time, of course." He slumps back on the couch. "But I still don't know why. Just to neutralize another Baxter branch? It seems excessive. Then again, if these disasters are /deliberate/, aimed at destroying the Baxters, then someone sabotaged the Ferris Wheel and murdered over twenty children just to kill off a few Baxter-line orphans. Someone being," he gestures at her, clearly meaning but not saying 'the Addingtons'. "But if it's not deliberate, then it's like the town itself has a violent reaction to their presence. Almost like an immune system attacking foreign cells." His eyes remain steady on her. "I need to know why. It might be the connecting link to make the rest of this make sense."

"It's something worth pursuing either way. Surely someone knows the answer. Or something." Andi closes the book, all that was there was mostly the remainder of her own family to fill out the pages. Andi in braces wasn't a pretty sight. Rising, she walks over to put it back where it came from. "If I come across any others I'll let you know." With a release of a breath she returns to the couch and has a seat. "Though I am not a blood Baxter, I and my family are related by marriage. I can't think of a reason why the Addingtons would have a vendetta against the Baxters, unless there were some real or imagined slight. I'd really, really like to know if you come up with any sort of information in regards to it."

Alexander sighs a little as the book is closed, all his hopes of gathering blackmail material dashed. He watches her as she goes to put it back, then as she returns to the couch. "I don't know why, Detective. But I would like to. I will look into things on my end but," he frowns at her, "I could use some help. I still believe the mortuary was burned for a purpose. A reason beyond just...creating pressure on your Baxter relation. Did Mitchell and Suzanne leave any records at all? Or did anything survive the fire? Could something remain at the site?"

"I suppose there's always the chance that there was a secret compartment built under ground or anything. It's not something I've heard, but I wouldn't put it past my uncle to do. Especially if they were aware of any subterfuge or a danger towards them. I can ask my family, get them to think harder on it, see if they remember anything at all out of the ordinary. What sort of clues should I look for? I'm not used to doing investigations on my own family."

Alexander gives her a deeply exasperated look. "You're too trusting to be a detective, Detective. Never hid anything from your parents? Never went snooping in your parents' files, or eavesdropped on their phone calls?" Being Alexander's parents wasn't fun for so, so many reasons. He rises abruptly to his feet, and starts pacing around the living room, looking at all the little marks of home and family as if they were mysterious relics, his expression lively, his movements animated. A side of him that only usually comes out when he's trying to talk his way into crime scenes or insisting that someone has overlooked something in an investigation he's not supposed to be a part of. "Documents would be best. Any sort. Financial records, death records - hell, even a surviving funeral home guestbook could tell us SOMETHING. But, barring that - associates and friends. Names. Might find one that is still in Gray Harbor and hasn't been compromised. People your family might have confided in. Friends, priests, lovers, whatever."

"All of this is before my time. The mortuary fire was never solved, sure, but there are so many others in town that weren't too. Cold case files is what we call them at the department and someone goes through them ever so often to look for forgotten leads or try to find more. Or even to remind the families that someone still remembers and is keeping the case alive now and then. I'm not some innocent. You and I both know we have that whatever it is that makes us different. Just like I know my ex-husband does not know much about it. I'm pretty sure Krissy knows too, we communicate with it. I wonder if I could question her somehow because people are known to talk freely in front of her since they think she's not understanding." Andi frowns at the idea of using her sister to try and learn more.

"I didn't say you were innocent. I said you were trusting. It's not a bad thing to be," Alexander says, with a roll of his shoulders. He considers her, thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should try and get into the cold case files, then. See if anything exists in there that might be useful." He begins to pace again, gaze on his feet. "She might appreciate it. To be asked. To be considered useful," he says, after a moment. "A mission provides clarity and purpose. A way of contributing. When other people consider you," he hesitates, "broken or incapable, sometimes the best possible feeling is when someone says they need you."

"Is that what this is about?" Andi focuses more on him now, trying to read his expression. "About you wanting a purpose or a way to contribute?" Hesitating a moment, she doesn't reach out to touch him this time but just considers him. "I will ask her and see what it is she has to say, maybe she's overheard something. Maybe not." She hears a little rustling and walks over to check her sister. Krissy is still asleep, just a little restless. "Can I call you a ride or anything? I know I brought you here, but I can't leave her. I can call one of the other officers to get you a ride home."

Alexander freezes. He goes stiff, defensive. "I wasn't talking about me," he snaps, eyes black and wary. Then he sort of wilts, collapsing in on himself, shoulders hunched and head bowed. "I just meant your sister." It's a near mumble again. He turns with the rustling as she does, although he doesn't approach. There's a shake of his head. "No. No need to start people asking why crazy-ass Clayton is hanging out in your home. Walking is fine. I appreciate the aid, Detective. I'll let you know if I hear anything else of use." He starts for the door, without any further sort of parting.