2019-10-13 - Gone Fishing

Ruiz is sitting in his office, slouched in his chair, making his way through the pile of paperwork that's been accumulating during his time off sick. His cheap suit's jacket is folded over the back of his chair, and his shirtsleeves are turned up to his elbows like, time to get some shit done. The ink scrawled up both arms makes him look a little like an ex-convict, but hey. He's cross-referencing some emails on his computer as he signs off on what looks like a restraining order.

Drifting in like death, not warmed over, but kept warm by a giant pink marshmallow looking parka, is the assistant DA. Cassidy is complete with what has become her trademark look: huge sunglasses shielding about 35% of her face's (washed out) features and a giant fucking coffee.

She walks like there is an invisible hand steadily propping her up and moving her forward.

"Oh good you're here," she says quietly - not by choice, by necessity. Her voice is raspy and low; a man's timbre with feminine tonality.

Ruiz looks up from his mountain of paperwork, eyes a little red-rimmed. He hadn't been drinking enough by the time Cassidy stumbled across him last night to be hungover, though goodness knows what he did after he got home.

He glances over her attire briefly, before fixing on the gigantic sunglasses. Or, ostensibly, the eyes behind them. "What can I help you with, Bennet?"

There has been a whole lot more time then usual spent at the station, which considering that Charlie is very dedicated to her job says a lot. When she comes in she's got a to-go cup of coffee in her hand, as well as a plastic to-go container full of something. Any red in her eyes is from lack of sleep, not drinking or being sick with the death plague going around.

She takes a sip of coffee while Ruiz speaks and there is a gentle smack of her lips when the tumbler is removed. She reaches for her sunglasses and pulls them off as she talks.

"The Krugers. Where are we going with that? Car's a dead end and the fish thing is phony, which relieves some suspicion from Foster," Cassidy near whispers with abundant rasp.

For Charlie's arrival, it is a markedly warm smile and an appraising look for the detective whose current residence is on the ADA's good side.

Ruiz leans back in his chair and lifts a hand to his face to press his thumb and forefinger against his temples, like he's trying to drive out a headache. "To be fair, I wouldn't call the car a complete dead end. The lack of forensic evidence tells us plenty, in itself." His hand drops to his lap, and his eyes flit to the doorway as Charlie presumably passes them by. "Morgan. Got a minute?"

Back to Cassidy, "We know it was a professional hit. Pursley's up next to be questioned, and I'd like to find an avenue to get to Foster." And through his barricade of lawyers. The captain can be a bulldog when he wants to.

"Cap." Charlie backtracks when she's addressed, moving back towards the office with a glance at Cassidy, taking in her appearance before she shakes her head, "You look like you need a good nap and cup of tea."

Motherly, unasked for, advice provided. She easily switches tracks, however, glancing back towards Ruiz, "What's up, Cap?" There is zero assumption that he's going to ask her about the Kruger case, not that she could possibly have missed it.

Cassidy just wrinkles her nose at the mention of tea and gives a little shake of her head before her eyes refocus on Ruiz. She lifts a shoulder to concede the point on the car, though her expression is mainly unimpressed about it.

"In either case we need to broaden the investigation. Savvy businessmen don't order hits on witnesses in frivilous pre-trial injunctions." She takes a sip of coffee and motions to Charlie, "And I am going to subpeona the deceased(s) ledgers, financial records and bank account transactions as their family lawyer is being uncooperative." She looks to Charlie, "Wouldn't you say? I'll need you to sign an affidavit."

"Unless we're chasing the wrong motive," murmurs the captain, grimacing a little. He leans back in his chair to tug open the filing cabinet behind his desk, and rifle through it for something.

"The Krueger case," he tells Charlie, confirming whatever suspicions she might have had. It seems to be the hottest one on the precinct's radar right now, especially given the press conference recently. Which he somehow managed to avoid. Likely on account of being out of commission with the flu.

"Where are we with Pursley? And what the fuck do we make of this?" He tosses something atop his desk: a printout of a page from the Washington Fish and Wildlife Office website, on cutthroat trout.

"I wouldn't say they are being uncooperative. I'd say they are doing the job someone is paying them to do...We know if that's the daughter, the boyfriend, or Monaghan?" Charlie takes a careful sip from her coffee as she mulls over her own response, "But sure, I'll sign off on anything you need to get the records, because I'm not sure what we did have access to really gave us much."

There is a brief look towards the printout, then Charlie shrugs, "So, I've a few thoughts there. One, the lawyer accused me of fishing during the interview." Or maybe it was the boyfriend. "So this could be a joke about that...Could be a joke about how we're barking up the wrong trees. If this is unrelated, as it's starting to maybe appear...then it could have been sent to throw us off the scent again of the real reasons. But I'd disagree, counselor, about how savvy businessment don't order hits on witnesses in frivilous pre-trial injunctions. I think if Foster did? Then there's more than we're seeing to this. That's all."

Cassidy's response to any disagreements about her suggestions is as pat as her no -answers to reporters: a shrug followed by "It's your investigation..." followed by "...but..." She takes a breath, "I'd like other ideas on parallel paths to proceed down because this motive is now flimsy and the DA isn't fully invested."

"Captain, maybe you can get a building inspector to the casino with a uniformed officer. /Any/ ordinance violations or lack of permits gives you cause to talk to Foster."

Ruiz studies Charlie for a moment, then the printout on his desk. Thoughtful. That's an interesting angle he hadn't considered. A pen is plucked from a drawer of his desk, and used to make a note on the pad he's got going. To Cassidy, without looking up, "Good suggestion, but I'm way ahead of you, Bennet. I've already got one in the works, though I'm not convinced he won't try to hide behind his lawyer. Maybe if we can leverage it with a threat of making it a misdemeanor charge, if we find something." Not that he doesn't expect the guy to be buttoned up tight with regards to building codes. "I'll see what I can do," he concludes, brows knitting slightly.

"Anyone given this thought. If we're looking at all the angles." Charlie moves to set her coffee down so that she can pop open her container, "What if they were the wrong targets." She pulls out a pair of to-go wooden chop sticks to proceed to eat her lunch, or breakfast? She's entirely lost track of what meal is when at the moment, but since she was on her way to eat, she just eats and talks.

"I'm not saying I buy it. But what if they weren't really the targets at all? Not sure who or what...but they are a couple of motel owners, you could have paid a junkie off the street to roll in and kill them, and then OD them to cover it up. Getting a high class professional is a step above what would be needed for those two. Maybe they lived a secret life as criminals. I mean, if we're going down paths, I've got a million, not great ones. But I'm open to all other ideas anyone comes up with. Right now? My primary focus is talking to Pursley. Which, Cap, soon as I get done with that my report'll be on your desk."

"Alright," Cassidy says, perhaps needlessly signing off on all ideas presented but wanting to let everyone know she's not about to stop any of it. She wants her conviction, after all.

She puts her glasses back on. "The only additional suggestion I have is to see if any offers have been made to Elisa Kruger to purchase the Sea View Motel, and any recent blueprints, plans or petitions submitted to City Hall for buildings that would have views or property lines impacted by this Casino going up." She motions over to Charlie, "If the pro hit and fish article are meant to make someone not guilty, look guilty, then that puts Pursley on our short list as well."

Her face is pointed at Charlie now, and likely her eyes but who can tell? "Good thinking, detective."

"Far as I'm concerned...everyone is a suspect. So, yeah, the list is long...and I feel like it keeps getting longer." It doesn't. Not really.

Some noodles are caught up, then shoved into Charlie's mouth as she thinks about it, then she nods, "I'll go kick over some rocks with City Hall, see if I can't shake anything loose. Gabe and I are on Pursley this week, so that'll probably answer some things, ask some others. If Foster might be gotten to as well..." She glances towards Ruiz at that, "I'm curious what he might say, too."

"Likely nothing obviously useful, so go in with your best Columbo bit." Cassidy says with a smirk over to Ruiz, "You can channel Peter Falk, can't you? Don't they teach that in cop school?"

"Never know. Sometimes the random shit is what really solves the problem." Charlie quickly finishes up her food, moving to toss the container and the chopsticks before recovering her coffee, "I'll let you know, anything I find out."

Ruiz snorts quietly at the Peter Falk comment. He's not sure if that's a quip on his age or what, but he doesn't dignify it with a response. "I'll work the Foster angle," he promises. "See what I can flush out." Detective work's technically beneath his paygrade, but it's a small town precinct, and doesn't work like his old haunt - which Cassidy's likely in the know about - Seattle PD.

Cassidy fishes in her purse for her Kools and places one between her lips. She adjusts her bag into the crook of her arm and prepares to step out. "Okay then," she says with that lingering incredulity, and she sings, "Let me knoowww" before a finger wave puts a punctuation mark on 'she's leaving'.

Ruiz tracks the blonde's departure with a flat expression, incredulity be damned. She'd better wait until she gets out of his office to light that thing up. "Serás el primero, Bennet," he replies evenly. Then blows a breath out his nose and returns to his stack of paperwork.