2021-11-22 - Not dead yet

It would be possible, though difficult, to find a cheaper place for Isi to rent. It's a house that's been split into smaller units and there ARE two rooms - except that they're both basically closets. This is why Isi generally exists in the main room. All of her furniture is generally worn down and second hand. There's a crack through one of the windows that's been poorly boarded up - the landlord will get to it, okay?! It's not too bad through, because honestly, who wants people to look inside your place in this part of town?

That said the only air flow comes when the front door is propped open, so that's what Isi's got right now. Just a nice fist sized stone letting a little bit circulate. She herself is sprawled on the warm couch with a bottle of pills beside her and a glass of water.

This makes stalking easy; Alexander rents a house just down the street, so after some questions around to the usual suspects, it's not difficult to get pointed in this direction. He examines the house rather critically, then slouches his way towards that open front door. He can probably be heard coming before he reaches that propped open door, a heavy sort of tread that stops right outside. His sweater is violently, unpleasantly green, and clashes with the olive of the army jacket. It's also big enough that it reaches halfway down his thighs. He knocks on the door. "Ms. Cameron?"

ISi may be high oh painkillers, but she's not totally out of it. The sound of feet on the step outside has her pulling herself up, and the realization it's coming at her doorway has her grabbing the closest hard thing she's got to hand. It's a book, so pointy edges too!

She stares at the doorway when the knock comes and a familiar voice calls out. The book isn't put down, but lowered a half inch. "Alexander Clayton?" Then suspiciousness entering her voice, "Tell me something only you would know." Being almost murdered makes one paranoid.

"You seem to think my ass has unprecedented carrying capacity," Alexander says, utterly deadpan. "Other than that, there are a lot of things that only I know. But, by definition, you wouldn't know them to verify them. But you're clearly still alive. Good." He doesn't wait any further, but reaches for the door to open it up and stick his head inside. "Hi," he says, unless he gets beaned by a thrown book.

No, no beaning happens. Mostly because Isi's trying to think her way through the carrying capacity comment. Insulting asses does sound like a think she would do. The 'hi' is nice and not at all threatening so the book goes down another half inch. She scoots just a little more upright from her sprawl and eyes him in the doorway. "No - not dead. Feel like it might be a better option though."

Other than being pale she looks better than she did the last time he saw her. No dirt, hair is clean (if not combed), no rips in her clothing, her arm is in a proper cast, and the cuts aren't bleeding. Still pale, but that'll probably last as long as the pain does. Just because she can't necessarily ~feel~ it in her brain, doesn't mean her body isn't reacting to the stress.

"How'd you find my place?" First obvious question to ask.

The rest of Alexander's body follows his head inside, since it would be pretty damn disturbing if it didn't. He looks around with dark-eyed interest, then closes the door carefully back on its propping rock. "Death is never the better option," he says, with a look back at her. He does a circuit of the room, shamelessly nosy, before coming to settle on the floor near where she's sprawled. "I'm a very good investigator," he says, in answer to her question. Then points. "Also, I live at number 13, and people around here gossip about out of towners pretty much constantly. If you're not in the murder motel, someone knows where you live." A flash of a smile. "How are you?"

What he'll see is basically a second-hand shabby existence with a few particular things she keeps nice. Like that lamp. Good clear light, though the side table it's sitting on has a slim book sitting under one leg to keep it even. Her blanket over the back of the sofa is an old-loved quilt, while the air purifier over there is higher end. The laptop that is half-tucked under the soft is absolutely higher-end, but her rug has at least one hole through it.

If he glances through the doorway to her bedroom he'll see where ~most~ of her money goes. She likes clothes, alright? It's not her fault the closet isn't big enough. None of it is this year's fashion though, so it's likely she only shops the sales asile.

"Ahhh, we were the same, on the rez. Didn't get new people much though - people wanted to get out not move in." Her head tips to one side as she follows him about the room. "There isn't a bomb or anything." His smile seems to get on her nerves or something. "Fine. Just got hit by a truck, you know? No biggie." Sarcasm, thy name is Isi.

It seems like Alexander's snoopiness at least avoids the bedroom, because he only glances that way long enough to make sure there's nothing lurking there, before moving on. "Bombs are inefficient and draw too much attention. Break-in is more likely, and wouldn't raise much suspicion. Especially on Elm." Is he talking about the best ways to kill her? He is totally talking about the best ways to kill her. He turns his eyes back to her, head tilting to one side. "Seems like a biggie to me." There's a pause. "Oh. Sarcasm. Yes." He takes a breath. "It was a truck, then? I spoke to the police. They mentioned something about your boss. Wanna tell me what's going on, Ms. Cameron? Maybe I can help."

"Fuck the police." Isi spits - her instant reaction a clear disrespect for the office and especially those she spoke to. Such irritation is too hard to keep up while sitting down so she shoes herself to her feet and slams down that book. It knocks over her bottle of pills and of course she didn't put the lid on tightly. At least they only give out a week's prescription of that stuff, so not too many white pills go rolling across her floor.

"I don't know what is going on - are you working with them?"

Alexander tries to grab at the bottle before it spills out, but he's just a little slow on the uptake. Instead, he leans forward and starts chasing down the escapees with his fingertips, picking up each one, dusting it off, putting it back into the bottle. There's a sidelong look at Isi. "Reporting didn't go well, I guess." He hums at the question. "No. I was curious, so I asked if there was an investigation open regarding your Jeep. There is. I said I was there, so the Chief asked for a statement. I gave it. He didn't let me look at the file." He scowls a little, at that; how dare they!

Once the white pills are all back in their bottle, he sits back down, and fastens the lid a bit more tightly. "I work for myself. The police don't generally like me. That's okay. But I don't like it when people get killed, so I want to help."

Isi manages one pill to each of Alexander's three - but even at that rate the pills are put back into the bottle quickly. This time the cap goes on PROPERLY. Which actually is probably bad because those things are hard to get off one-handed.

"No. It didn't. They didn't give a shit and if they do make movement it sure as fuck isn't going to do me any good. I don't know why I bothered - they're just like the fuckers on the reservation." It's a whole pile of bitterness and nothing that makes Isi want to sit down. She throws a look at Alexander and looks him up and down. "You're a white male, what's not for the police to like?" Yes, she is taking his honest bona fides down before she talks more about what actually happened.

Alexander thinks about this for a while, then says, "The Chief is assigning a detective to the case. He cares. He's just really fucking bad at showing it, and not very good at investigations." He shrugs. Then blinks a couple of times at the last. "I'm a very good investigator," he says, again. "And I've lived here most of my life. A lot of the police are corrupt. Some are incompetent. A lot of them just don't want to stick their necks out. I don't mind sticking my neck out." He gives her a smile. "I like solving crimes, and I find that if you give them the solution wrapped in a bow, they go ahead and take it because it's more work to not."

ISi snorts, not at all predisposed to believe that Ruiz has head-of-chief has any redeeming qualities. She stands with her back against a wall across the room from Alexander - about as far as she can get without getting more obvious about it.

"The police are shit - what else is new?" She looks away from him, looking towards the ground. "What's up with all the smiling? You save my life and we're now all friendly?"

Almost instantly she seems to think differently of that, "Fuck - that was out of line." Not quite an apology, but close.

The smile immediately dies, and Alexander looks away. "I didn't save your life. You would have flagged someone down. We don't have to be friends." His fingers play with the edges of his jacket, nervously. "You can hire me, instead. You don't have to pay. I'm bored." He stares at the door, like he's talking to it instead of to her. "Tell me about Emil Kovacs?"

Isi keeps her eyes fixed on Alexander when he looks away. Since they're not spitting at one another (well, he's not spitting) it's easier to reallly look at him.

Grudgingly, "He's my boss at city hall. Typical bureaucrat. I figured he wouldn't do anything that would put his pension at risk." Government positions still have that at least! "I found some irregularities in the contracts and brought all my evidence to him since the companies involved are bidding on post storm contracts. "

Alexander mostly looks tired. Either strung out on something, or just deeply insomniac. He pulls his knee up to his body and rests his chin on it. He listens intently, although he's not looking at her, still. "How much money? And what companies?" A thoughtful pause. "Any names mentioned?"

"A couple million at least - the town got a good insurance payment so we have some more play-money that expected. Toss in the normal operations budget... Look - grift is normal in these contracts. But not usually at this scale."

Looking at him makes her abruptly change the topic, "Do you want something to drink?" and she doesn't wait to hear his answer but goes into her tiny kitchenette off the living room and gets two beers. Alexander should tell her not to mix those meds with something stronger or she totally is going to. Bottle opening is difficult with one hand though.

Having something to do with her hands makes it easier to talk. "Ladson Construction and Wychek and Sons. They've bid on contracts for quite a few years - and the work does get done. Just with cost overruns that are insane."

Alexander's quiet, "Yes," to the offer of drink isn't really needed, and it's aimed at her back. He doesn't offer to help her, despite the busted arm, but his attention turns back to her, watching warily as she gets the beers. "Alcohol and painkillers shouldn't mix." It's offered as an observation - there's no particular condemnation to it, whatever she decides to do. He reaches into his jacket, pulls out a small notebook and tiny pencil, scribbles while she talks. "You took this to Kovacs. How did he react? Did you retain copies of the evidence?"

Isi fights the caps till they're off and she turns to hand them over to him. They're not the coldest - probably a product of her decades old fridge - but they're drinkable. "Guess you'll have to stay to make sure it doesn't kill me then." It's said with a biting and sarcastic edge to it. She back off after she delivers the drink and balances on the edge of the arm of the sofa. Upright is good.

His question gets due consideration, "Actually - he was squirmy as fuck about it. I mean, of course he's going to do whatever is safest for him. That's how the job works. I called him on his shit, but he denied it."

Alexander stares at her. "All right," he says, with a shrug. Sarcasm and Alexanders do not seem to get along very well. He takes the beer that's offered, takes a small swig of it. Instead of drinking more, he peels the label off the bottle and starts tearing it into very tiny pieces of confetti as she sits down. He frowns with disapproval at that's how the job works. "And after that, someone tried to run you off the road? Tell me about the incident. Any details you left out before, and no bullshit about just being a bad driver."

"No - no that shit was on purpose." Isi admits it with a hint of reluctance. Slowly she lets the story unfold. "I was north of town - you know that, diving back from hiking. when this truck came up on my ass. I caught most of what I saw in my rear view mirror." So it might be a little off, the disclaimer put in there quickly. "White guy - ball cap over his face. Looks like he works with his hands or something, outside a lot. Not a natural color - like me, but like, hey early melanoma."

Isi's eyes move off of him and fix on a nowhere space just above and beyond his shoulder. "The license plate was covered in mud, but the colors looked like maybe from the state? Oh," Up come her eyes, "I didn't tell Chief bitch face about the symbol on the side. A red leaf thing - like, the Canada symbol? And a shovel of some kind. Small and pointy. Ah, red and black?" Yes, she's got that right?

"His name is Javier Ruiz de la Vega," Alexander murmurs, disapprovingly, at the insult. But that's the only interruption he makes. He stops adding beer confetti to her floor and writes down what she says. Then he pulls out his phone, and starts typing something into it. It takes a couple of tries, but then he shows her the screen. The maple-leaf-and-trowel is on the screen. "What you saw? Landscaping company, local. Went out of business a couple years ago. All assets got sold. Including vehicles, I imagine." He hums to himself. "Bet the buyer was local. Probably one of your two construction companies." He looks up at the ceiling. "Do you usually go hiking? Does anyone know your routine?"

A grunt will accept his thing with names but Isi's not going to repent of calling the chief a bitch. She has to scoot forward towards him when he turns that phone around. The mix of painkillers and booze are going to her head a bit. She has to blink a few times. "Yeah - I have a few favorite trails. It's not like you just walk into the forest here." That last is said super dryly.

"I wouldn't recommend it, no. And stay away from the old mill," Alexander adds, absently. He takes the phone back, and studies the symbol. "Hm. So it's not unlikely that you could have been tracked to your favorite trail. Why not shoot you in the woods? Lots of places to hide bodies there and a lot of people go missing. But, then again, there are hunters. And it's harder to control the situation, especially if you know the trail. Car accident is less suspicious." He's not really talking to her, at this point, but muttering to himself.

He looks up and over, then. "How do you wanna handle this, Ms. Cameron? Your boss probably tried to have you killed...or at least contacted people who he knew would try and frighten or harm you to keep you quiet. Bright side, I don't think they're affiliated with the, uh, larger criminal syndicate in the area. They'd have tried to bribe you first. So if you want them arrested at the end of this, probably won't be any corrupt cops paid to make sure they get off."

"What do I want to do about it?" Isi asks, shaking her head slowly. But then she's going to change topic. "If you have such a thing with names why don't you call me Isi? It means 'deer'. Cameron isn't even Sahaptian."

It's easier to ask that question right now than think about the mess she's in.

"You're on edge and distressed," Alexander points out, flatly. "Being polite is a way to establish a professional distance and a feeling of safety in a client." He says that like he's reading out of a book somewhere. Then he takes a breath, lets it out. "But I'll call you Isi. If you want." He takes another sip of the beer, then says, "You didn't answer my question. How do you want this to shake out? There are several options I see."

"Someone tried to murder me - but yeah- sure, I feel as safe as a bug in a rug." It's too bad Alexander and Sarcasm don't mix. She's kind of on fire with it tonight. "Fuck if I know. It's happened once - they'll probably try again right? Unless Emil knows I liked that most of that shit wasn't originals. then they can just get rid of the evidence right? I mean I probably could recreate most of it, if he hasn't fucked with the digital files."

Alexander gives Isi a long look, brow furrowed as he tries to decide whether to be proud that the 'client relations' book he's been reading got it right, or if that's sarcasm. He decides for the latter, and snorts, before looking away again. "Probably. Or frame you for embezzling to hide what they've been doing. I think we could probably get enough evidence to take to the police if we move fast. Or, if you just want it to go away, we could probably scare them off from messing with you. Or..." he hesitates, and doesn't go on to Option 3.

"What's that English phrase my sophomore teacher tossed around?" Isi has to think HARD to remember it. She's getting super droopy now, she's going to fall asleep on Alexander at this rate. "Fuck in for a.... something in for a... kind of English money or whatever. What is the last or?"

"In for a penny, in for a pound," Alexander murmurs. He doesn't miss that she seems to about to fall asleep. He tries to reach out with his abilities to make sure she didn't actually overdose or something, but after a moment, he can only frown when nothing happens. "The third would be to reach out to the, uh, more organized of the organized crime in the area, and let them know that these two companies and your boss are grifting a large amount of money from the city without paying their cut to the boss. You could probably buy protection with that, but you'd have to...tolerate the fact that they'd probably keep on stealing. I would prefer Option 1, but it's not my life."

No, no overdose, just a really typical reaction when mixing them. Isi'll be out cold at some near point in the future. But it's her future that's on the line right now. "If they frame me, I'll get fired. Right? I mean, I've only been here a few moths. They can't pin that shit on me." Right? CAN THey DO IT? "I'm not leaving." That is said flatly and with complete finality. "Only place I have is the reservation and if you go back you don't leave again. I'll end up in the tribal government and mother will guilt me into staying." Option OFF THE TABLE.

The last has her blinking and she's just going to think between option 1 and option 3. "That chief guy didn't seem to give a shit, and Cassidy took it as routine. How do I know they aren't dirty too? At least with organized crime I'd know they were going to fuck with me." Isi brings her empty bottle and presses it against her forehead as if she could just absorb more liquid from the content. "Who's worse? The losers trying to move in on area or the ones already established?"

Alexander shrugs. "Probably fired, yeah. Anything else depends on how smart they are, and what sort of allies they have. Probably not big on either, if they didn't hire a professional to go after you. We're mostly small time, in the Harbor." His smile is humorless. He puts the bottle of beer to the side and stands up. "Here. You shouldn't sleep on the couch with the door open. Under the circumstances. Go to bed." He sort of shoos his hands towards her, as if he could push her in that direction without touching her.

"Javier gives a shit. Don't know about Cassidy, but if we bring him evidence, Javier will act on it." Whether it's true or not, Alexander believes it; his voice conveys the sincerity, there. He looks away at the last question - but Alexander finds it hard not to answer questions. Reluctantly, he says, "Felix is a monster. Stone cold sociopath. But not particularly inclined to chaotic violence. You ask for protection, depending on what you're willing to do, you'll get it--but the price will be high, in the end. Even if it doesn't start like that."

MAYBE Isi could get a read on Alexander better if she was not so chemically impared but.... yeah. She's not. So she just blinks up at him. A stubbornly perverse part of her makes her fold herself down onto the couch and pull that blanket down over her. "Lock the door on your way out. It's a cave in here." There's a small jerk of her head back in the direction of the room.

This is clearly not a good time to make decisions but she'll ask one more question, "They could use an auditor, right? Even organized crime has insurance? you'd be the white hat though, cuz you'd go out to the police?"

Alexander looks down at her when she folds herself and pulls that blanket down. His brow furrows and exasperation flares in his dark eyes. His hands twitch, but he doesn't reach for her. Just mutters, "Fine. Why do you even live here? You have a real fucking job." He runs his hands through his hair, and snaps, "I don't fucking know the personnel needs of the local organized crime syndicate, Isi. And yes, I'd go to the police." He's clearly regretting even mentioning Option 3. He turns towards the door. "Get some sleep. I'll check back tomorrow. Your boss will probably realize you're not dead. So if you're gonna contact him, talk to me first." Then he stomps towards the door.

"If you didn't look so fucking creepy," Isi says when he gets to the doorway, ignoring the question about her living arrangements altogether. That's a different thorny problem. ANOTHER DAY, "people wouldn't be so afraid of you. What you're doing doesn't match the vibe."

She's calling him a good person by insulting him. Keeping awake is getting way too hard though, so she pillows her head down instead of pursuing it further. "I'll text you," is the only promise he gets.

Alexander's answer is a petulant slamming of her door, after making sure that it'll lock behind him.