2020-08-19 - The Dead Speak

Cecil is just finishing up his inspection of the body, namely photographing the cuneiform marks cut into the skin. He's in a white labcoat and is wearing vinyl gloves. His nametag clearly states he's a forensics specialist, a Ph D. doctor rather than a medical one. "Marks appear to have been made with a paring knife, with the kind of precision that could only come from chef's grade," he says into his phone. "Unfortunately, there's a lot of decomposition obscuring them."

A crackly voice comes over the intercom. "Sir, there's a Ranger T..." there's the sound of rustling, "Tok-roinga here to see you? He's the ranger who was on site when the body was found."

Ranger Tokoronga is indeed in the vestibule outside of the examination area, wearing his uniform, hat in literal hand, looking not exactly comfortable to be in this den of medical death.

Cecil blinks a few times as he's drawn out of his reverie. "Hmm? Oh, please show him in." He's done with the inspection anyway, so he puts his camera away and turns off the recorder on his phone. Cecil Harvey is hardly an imposing figure. Of average height, but on the thin side, with thick glasses. He's the very image of a harmless nerd. He seems comfortable around the dead, though. The gruesome remains on the gurney may as well be part of the furniture.

When the tall, slim, mostly-gray haired half-Maori man gets let into the room, he looks surprised. Niall lingers near the doorway, folding long arms across his torso. "Em. Mister Harvey? I'm Niall Tokoronga. Would you mind..." he tries not to look at the gurney. "...if we spoke just outside? Henry was a friend of mine."

It takes Cecil just a moment to clue into the man's discomfort. Oh, right, the corpse, that was a person once. A friend, apparently. Cecil's brow furrows with sympathy, and he steps toward the doorway. "Of course, Mr. Tokoronga. Whatever you like." He peels off the vinyl gloves, tossing them into a bin on his way out.

Niall sidles out towards a viewing area just beyond the examination room. "I wanted to ask...I went...to see his ex-wife. She said he always kept a crushed penny stamped with Yosemite on a chain round his neck. It's something his daughters would like back, after it's been cleared by the police at all. Was it found with the body, do you know?"

Cecil shakes his head and says, "No, I read the report from the scene, and there was no mention of a crushed penny charm." He lifts a hand like he might attempt a comforting touch, but he second-guesses himself, and his hand just hangs there a moment before he lowers it. "I'm sorry. I wish I had better news for you. It's, er, possible it was lost before the body was moved to where it was found."

Niall doesn't look very happy about that answer. He runs a hand over the side of his hair and exhales. "Mph. Is he giving you any information you can use?" he asks, motioning back towards the room. From where he stands, he can only see the outline of Henry's feet beneath the sheet.

Cecil's features deepen with sympathy. But then he squares his shoulders and falls back on his professionalism as he says, "We've narrowed down a few details. The way the marks were made." Which he doesn't elaborate on, because hell, this guy was the victim's friend. "It should give us a few avenues to explore. Of course what I'd like to do is discover where the murder took place. I'm going to be looking into any fibers found at the scene. You'd be surprised how much a few stray threads can tell us."

"Even with the body under the sand like that?" Niall looks impressed, eyebrows arching. "I didn't think he killed poor Henry right there on the beach." He goes quiet for a moment, lost in a thought, then he snaps back to Cecil, looking apologetic. "Sorry. It's been a rough few days."

Cecil says with a small, tight smile, "You'd be surprised how tenacious those fibers can be, and how telling. I haven't looked under the fingernails yet. It's a long shot, but if he grabbed at anything while he was still alive, we might be able to find it." He pushes his glasses up his nose and adds, "I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Tokoronga. I can't imagine what you must be going through right now. I wish there was more I could do to help."

"You're doing the hard work of looking over his body for clues. That can't be pleasant." Niall frowns tightly. "I know you can't tell me all the details, but..." he hesitates, "...did you find anything the police won't take seriously?" He treads carefully when talking to someone else who Glimmers for the first time, as just because someone shines, it doesn't mean they're actually confronting what they are and aware of their abilities.

Cecil considers Niall a moment, then he admits, "I haven't delved so far yet. It can take a toll, and I was hoping the more traditional ways would yield more." He glances back toward the body. "I would venture to say that there would be a lot of emotion tied to what happened, and that it might linger. It's something to consider. It might be illuminating." So he is aware, and not to adverse to the idea.

"I'm not..." Niall hesitates, "...I'm not strong in that way, m'self. And frankly, I don't think I could take it. It should probably be someone who doesn't know him. Didn't." Pesky tenses. His arms are folded rather protectively around himself. "But someone might come poking by who is. Would you let them?"

"I would never ask you to put yourself through that," Cecil says emphatically. "You've already been through so much. If you know of someone, and you want them to come by, I can come up with some cover as to why they're here, but I can try to take a look. I'm willing to do it. I could right now, if you like."

"You mean...?" Niall looks back towards Henry and waggles his fingers to indicate Glimmer abilities. "You can? Do you want to? I mean...I can imagine doing it to corpses would be more than a little disturbing. I think someone might have done it on the scene. I left some people alone just for a few minutes because they might have been able to pick up things the police would miss. And I didn't know if anyone with abilities would be able to get close to his body after the police got there."

Cecil getures vaguely and says, "I mean, it's not how I want to spend my evening, but when one has a certain talent, one has a certain responsibility." His voice wavers a little. "Someone killed that man. Your friend. He deserves justice. I can't give him his life back, but I can shoulder a little discomfort to make sure the son of a bitch who did it doesn't get away with it." He clears his throat. "Pardon my language, please."

Niall grins wryly, rocks on his heels, "Mate, I'm a Ranger. We don't curse in front of the kiddos, but we do curse. So don't worry about my sensitive ears." He inhales. "It's up to you. I'm sure we could find someone else to do it, but then you might have to explain why you let some rando close to the corpse when there's a murderer afoot."

Cecil smiles a little. "Still, it's hardly professional." He gestures back toward the exam room and says, "I can do it right now. "If I don't get anything useful, we can worry about finding other people. Truly, Mr. Tokoronga, it's no trouble. I want to help you." He clears his throat and adds, "You have one of those faces, of people I'd like to help, I guess."

"Yes well, I have been told I look friendly and adorable," Niall drawls dryly. But, corpse stuff. He clears his throat. "I, em, would it help if I stayed? If I'm being honest, I'm fairly new to this ability stuff. I do know there can be a boomerang effect. Someone I knew made a rutting earthquake when he tried to read something he shouldn't've."

Cecil ducks his head and purses his lips to fend off a smile, because corpse stuff. "Now, I never said adorable," he says, but there's warmth in his voice. "It would help, actually, if you stayed. You don't have to go in, but in case something happens, I'd feel better knowing I'm not here alone. Just come in if you hear me pass out or something."

"Well I do tend to editorialize. Add in obvious things. Y'know." A grin from Niall. "I'll be right here, mate. I know CPR and all that. Quasi-first responder training and all." The 'quasi' probably doesn't inspire confidence.

A small laugh escapes Cecil despite himself. "Well, I could hardly call you a liar." He makes brief eye-contact, then pushes his glasses up his nose again and says, "I'll just be in the other room." So awkward for a guy who's so comfortable with death. He steps back into the exam room and approaches the body. "Ah, Henry," he says in a low tone. "Let's see what happened to you."

This sort of thing is probably easier when you don't have the friend of the deceased standing a few feet away. Easier to treat the corpse as a piece of evidence and not someone's loved one. That kind of detachment is, ironically, probably key to helping those families find closure. Niall gives Cecil a warm, encouraging look, but lingers in the door, out of view of the corpse. He wants to support the other man, but can't bear to look at Henry's obviously headless corpse.

It's never fun to read a corpse. If Cecil were going to go for preference, he'd rather read a book. He closes his eyes and lays a hand upon Henry's chest. No glove. Physical contact sharpens the experience. The confusion knits his brow, and he swallows down the cold stone of fear in his belly. The scent of old paper and book glue is a familiar one. He frowns faintly. The scent of machine oil is not. He cries out quietly at the terror, and he almost jerks his hand away, but he doesn't. He sees it through. The happiness is a balm, one he's not expecting. He comes back to his senses and opens his eyes. "Poor Henry," he murmurs. "I'm so sorry, mate." Somewhat shakily, he heads toward the vestibule again.

"Are you all right?" Niall nearly went into the room at the soft cry, but ends up giving Cecil space. He reaches out an arm to steady the scientist if it's needed. He seems to be instinctively looking for symptoms like dialated pupils or other signs of distress. He's no doctor, but his job does involve rescues and dealing with people who might've taken tumbles outdoors.

Cecil looks no worse for wear, except maybe for his hair. He's run his hand through it in such a way as to dishevel it hopelessly. He's a little fluttery, but certainly not injured. "It's fine, I'm fine," he says with a hitch in his voice. "It was just a lot. I'm not sure if it'll be enough. There was confusion, fear. He was somewhere with old books. I could smell machine oil, engine oil, and..." He swallows. "He knew he was going to die. I'm so sorry, Mr. Tokoronga. What confuses me, though, is there was then happiness, and the scent of the woods near the shore." He looks at Niall's face, looking for some clue or familiarity.

"Maybe it was all jumbled up, like you weren't reading it in order?" Niall asks, though his face pinches. He really isn't an expert in any of the Veil-related stuff. "Henry loved the woods, though. Deeply. Maybe..." he makes a soft sound, "...maybe he was in the woods when the killer got to him?" He tries to keep his face schooled and even when Cecil says Henry knew he was going to die. He hoped it came out of nowhere, that he never felt anything.

"Do you know where he liked to go?" Cecil says. "Any specific spots? Where he might have been visiting when he was taken? It's a long shot, but if there was something left there, it might give us a clue where they took him." He's still shaken from the impressions and the residual terror of knowing the end is coming. It's left him pale, but there's a spark in his eyes. There's determination there. "Would you be willing to take me out there?"

Niall hovers close enough that if Cecil loses his balance, he can catch him, but still at a polite distance. "There are a few spots. I mean, I wasn't as close to him as some of the others. And he's only been in this part of the park for a few months. But he did ask around for recommendations for spots that visitors don't often go. Can you..." a pause, "...get a read off a spot, or would you need to find something of his there?"

Cecil says, "If there's enough emotional resonance in a place, I could pick up on it," Cecil says. "If something happened there that was intense enough, like being kidnapped, there might be remnants. But that's assuming he was kidnapped. Maybe his captors tricked him into following them." He frowns and looks rather frustrated. "It's a slim chance. But the most it'll cost us is tramping around in the woods for a few hours, and I've got nothing better to do, to be honest."

"Tramping about in the woods is sort of my entire deal. So you're in luck." Niall pulls out his wallet, then pulls out a National Park business card, then a pen from his lapel pocket. "This is my personal number. You recover from this and finish what you need to, then we'll tee up something, yeah?" He hands it to Cecil.

Cecil takes the card and gives it a glance, and he pockets it, then takes out a business card of his own. "If you need to reach me. If you can find someone with more clarity than me, I'll find a way to bring them in here. I can say they're a consultant." He rubs the back of his neck and admits, "I've had to retro-fit facts before. It's not lying, just a little creative management of information. 'I felt it in my bones' doesn't fly in court, unfortunately."

"Mhmm, I can imagine. That's the curse of an ability like that, yeah? Can't really verify it. Can't really explain how you know without literal magic, or whatever it is." He takes the card and slips it into his wallet, before replacing it in his pocket. He then offers his hand to Cecil. "Thank you, Mister Harvey. Genuinely. And although they wouldn't understand, if they did, Henry's family would appreciate it as well." There's warmth in his eyes that crinkle a little at the corners.

Cecil smiles, and it's a nice smile. It brightens his eyes and takes years off him. "I'll do everything I can for them," he says. "For him. I don't think much about life after death, but I like to think that, in some way, they know we didn't forget them. As for the ability, sometimes you find the answers, then you decide on the question. If we find evidence in the woods, and they ask why were we there? We call it a hunch. We don't need to tell them Henry told me."