The Lengths That I Would Go To

[abrightboy]

The killer was moving around the country. Malcolm Bright could see the pattern, but he wasn't working for the FBI these days and they weren't exactly taking his calls. Short sighted of them, but they did fire him on suspicion of being crazy. The NYPD's jurisdiction was New York. With the killer beyond its borders, they handed it upwards and left it at that.

Let it go, Bright, had been Gil's sage advice. You can't catch every killer in America single-handedly.

Challenge accepted, some part of him retorted, though he'd only nodded mutely and forced a smile. Gil knew he hadn't simply let it go, but he wasn't going to have him followed to stop him doing anything stupid, either. He didn't have the will or the resources to keep tabs on Malcolm Bright 24/7 and Malcolm Bright knew it.

His mother, on the other hand, had extensive resources, so he simply didn't tell her he was leaving town. He did arrange for Ainsley to feed his bird, so the truth would come out eventually, but he'd be several states away by then.

He rode the bus. There was something oddly comforting about the anonymity of being in a crowd of strangers who had no interest in him whatsoever. He stared out the window and watched the country go by. When he stepped off the Greyhound in Lexington, Kentucky, he walked to a nearby hotel and checked in, then headed straight to the US Marshals office. There was no point in trying to talk to the FBI. If he was going to stop a killer from killing again, he needed someone in law enforcement to listen to him. The pattern suggested the next murder would happen in one of the rural communities around Lexington and it would be precipitated by a young woman's disappearance. He needed law enforcement with local knowledge, specifically.

He wandered into the Marshals' offices in a tidy three piece suit, charcoal grey with a burgundy tie perfectly knotted at his collar. He got a few suspicious sidelong glances but nobody asked if they could help him. He cleared his throat.

"Um, hello? I'm wondering if there's anyone here I can talk to about murder." He held up his hands. "Stopping murder, specifically, not... like... smalltalk."

Comments

[tinstar]

"Oh so I got the Half Power special, good to know." Now he was just teasing him but that's what happened when Raylan got comfortable and started drinking.

"I am sure that Art would appreciate it. Man's convinced I'm going to fall into a bar or a gunfight in the middle of the day for some reason. Might find myself in Queens at Quarles's Daddy lives. Maybe they'll have found a decent hotel."

[abrightboy]

"Yeeeaaaah you should probably meet Gil before you go busting up people's fathers in his precinct," Malcolm conceded. "He doesn't like those kinds of phone calls when they're unexpected." Malcolm knew from experience. "But, honestly, if you need a place to crash, you can stay here. If you don't mind the potential of late night terrified screaming."

[tinstar]

"Does he like 'em any better when they are expected?" The question was asked under a smartass lift of one eyebrow. He doubted the answer would be yes.

"Nah, I wouldn't wanta put you out." He glanced over at the couch. "Doesn't much look like a couch that's the type for sleepin' on. More like sipping port or something." It was purely Southern Politeness - you never accepted those kinds of invitations on the first offer. The truth of it was that Raylan would have liked to stay, but that was something friends with a capital F did and Raylan wasn't sure if he counted as a guy who'd only met Malcolm a few times.

Yes, it was slightly hypocritical, but you can take it up with the South.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm looked over at the couch.

"...Really?" He hadn't considered whether it was a sleep appropriate couch. "I haven't slept on it," he confessed. "Because I can't. No restraints. But it's pretty soft to sit on?" He set his tea down and walked over, sitting on it heavily, so he bounced. "How can you recognize whether a couch is sleep-suitable?" he asked, thoroughly distracted by these logistics. He hadn't really had capital F friends. Raylan could maybe teach him how to recognize those too.

[tinstar]

"I take it naps are also an impossibility. I'd say you're missin' out, but considering your sleepin' habits already..."

At Malcolm's question, Raylan grinned and slipped back onto his feet to amble over and stand nearby.

"You sleep on enough couches, you can spot ones that aren't broken in. That thing is probably more expensive than my car. I'm going to devalue it by gracing it with the back of my jeans."

[abrightboy]

"What?" Malcolm said, as though that were absurd, twisting his neck to look up at Raylan. "Don't be ridiculous. Give it a try," he said, gesturing to the spot beside him. "I sit on it all the time."

[tinstar]

"I thought we were supposed to be meeting Gil." Despite that, he was coming around and making something of a show of sitting down. "I also somehow doubt you've worn jeans in a very long time."

[abrightboy]

"I wore jeans on Sunday!" Malcolm protested. They were, of course, very expensive designer jeans, but they were made of denim. He was sure they counted. He gestured to where Raylan was sitting. "You're not comfortable?"

[tinstar]

"Uh-huh." He hadn't realized it before then, but he found himself smirking far more often around Malcolm than not. Almost as much as when he was around Tim.

"It's not too bad. Passable. I guess if you're insisting.." He'd satisfied the demands of politness, right?

"I warn you, I snore."

[abrightboy]

"Well, I..." Oh. He looked over at Raylan. "It was never really about the couch, was it?" he realized. "The couch was your out and I took it away."

[tinstar]

"It was a little about the couch," Raylan admitted with a one sided bob of his head. "For a guy as sharp as you, I'd have thought you'd have picked up on more of the manners in the South. Trust me, it isn't a reflection on you," he assured, one eye half squinted before he drained the rest of his glass.

"Come on, let's go before both Gil and Art convene together to jointly frown in disapproval."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm got up, grabbing his suit jacket from a hook and slipping it on.

"...Are you going to stay?" he asked, still a bit confused by the whole weird manners thing.

[tinstar]

He couldn't help the crook of his smile as he grabbed his baseball cap and slid it on, adjusting it by the brim.

"If that counts as you asking again, yeah."

[abrightboy]

"So what you're saying," Malcolm surmised as he opened the door, holding it for Raylan, "is that there's, like, a combination lock of offering someone hospitality." He paused. "Wow, was it weird when I stayed at your dad's place on the first go, then? Was that a big faux pas?" And before Raylan could even get to that answer. "Why would anyone offer hospitality if they didn't want you to take them up on it?"

[tinstar]

He walked through, chuckling. "You'll get the hang of it, sooner or later," Raylan assured. "And no, it wasn't, because you had nowhere else to go. Trust me when I say you don't wanna stay at any 'motel' that Harlan might offer. Might wake up without your kidneys."

Trotting back down the stairs, Raylan opened the door in turn for Malcolm as they broke out onto the street.

[abrightboy]

He made a face at the kidneys remark.

"It's hard to investigate black market organ theft without your kidneys," he conceded. He glanced around and spotted a cab, raising his hand to hail it. "Did you say Art's in town or did he call Gil from Lexington?"

[tinstar]

"Not to mention recovery time." Raylan watched a cab pull up and let Malcolm open the door before sliding in. "Art's in town. Quarles's stepfather, the guy that raised him from when he was young, is Art's White Whale. Guy by the name of Sol. Art's been chasing him since the 80's. If there's even a hint of Sol being involved, Art's so far up it's ass he should be payin' rent. He said he was headed there as soon as we got in, so no doubt he's waiting for us to show up."

[abrightboy]

When they walked into the 16th precinct, Malcolm let the way to the conference room where they tended to meet about cases. Art was, indeed, already there. So were Gil, JT and Dani.

"Whoah, whoah, whoah," Gil said as they walked in the door. "Who called you?"

"Sometimes you don't need to call me. Sometimes I just show up when I'm needed, like... like..."

"Mary Poppins?" JT provided, deadpan.

Malcolm pointed at him. "Sure! If that works as a metaphor!" He paced to the front of the room. "Gil, Raylan. Raylan... everybody. So. The perp does dirty work for the Dixie mafia, apparently, but it's his personal proclivities that have brought the Marshal's service to New York. He's a classi..." His voice trailed off as he turned to the board and noticed something. "This isn't the right crime," he observed.

"No," Gil allowed. "Until the Marshal's service showed up, we were working on something else."

Malcolm pointed to one of the pictures and turned around. "Is this person tied to railway tracks?"

"Subway tracks," Dani supplied.

"I can't believe you didn't call me for this." He was almost insulted.

"It was a pretty cut and dry revenge killing," JT told him.

"Cut and dry," Malcolm scoffed, turning to peer at the picture again in distraction. "This is performance art..."

[tinstar]

Along with Art, Tim and Rachel were next to him, looking suitably amused at Malcolm's entrance - all three lifting their eyebrows in surprise, almost in unison, at the lack of cowboy hat on Raylan's head. The silent rebukes were taken with an amused look as he joined their side.

They all stood like bumps on a log as they watched the short exchange and Art gave Raylan another pointed look. A conversation in looks alone. Raylan shrugged with his own facial response and turned an amused look onto the other officers.

"Nothing that we can stand up against, with that kinda review," he supplied, non-helpfully. "If y'all are busy, we can just--" Art stopped him with a few fingers against his arm as he stepped up to shut Raylan's smart mouth up.

"No, now, I know you guys are busy up here. Lots goes on; I was stationed up here when I was younger, but-" Art ungracefully hefted his pants a little. "We're just looking for a little direction here folks. Now we're happy to go about like bulls in your china shop, but we are tryin' to mind our manners. You got a detective or something, someone that's familiar with the old bosses that used to run the families, maybe?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm whipped around, both hands held out, spread wide, distracted from his distraction. Everyone stop everything, his hands said.

"No, no, no. Gil, this man is here to kill again," he said, nodding so Gil could appreciate the gravity. "Children. Sexual and physical torture. They..." he pointed over at the marshals, "are looking for crime bosses because of the perpetrator's ties to the mafia, but these kills.... these are his hobby, not his job."

"We're just wrapping this case," Gil said, gesturing to the board. "When you say old bosses," he asked, turning his attention to the marshals, "how 'old' do you mean? How far back?"

Malcolm watched carefully, looking visually relieved when Gil showed an interest in the case.

[tinstar]

"The mafia is his family but Sol's only going to protect him for so long. The Family's been around for a few generations but our guy is tight with the head now," Art pointed out. "While we would not say no to catching the head as well as the body of the snake, considering what Quarles has done, we're happy to take the body in this case."

Raylan piped up again, utterly unhelpful in his subtle edge of sarcasm. "Just looking to flush out a rat, take him home to justice. Alls we need is a guide. It'll save us both time, and a few innocent lives. This guy's been stressed out for about 18 or more months - I don't think he's got much running left in him."

Tim and Rachel stayed quiet, watching the faces with sharp eyes, gauging everyone and how this might go down. They were the more mindful of the group, if Raylan was honest. Art was a little blind when the name Sol was mentioned, to say nothing of the family name and everyone in his office knew it.

"With a little pressure and a little luck, we'll be outta your hair inside a few days," Raylan half promised, knowing that it might not be the case.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm was watching Art, because something was off there.

Sol. Art was the one who brought him up, specifically.

"Do you really need someone familiar with the old bosses? You seem pretty familiar," Malcolm pointed out. Something in Art's expression must have shifted, if only faintly. "You are familiar. It's not just work; it's personal," he surmised, still watching the Marshal's face with a studious scrutiny.

[tinstar]

"I-" Art started, accent drawling it out to something more phonetically inline with 'iaaa' as his greyed eyebrows rose, and as the only hair on his face right now, being bald despite the ballcap on, was highly indicative to how right Malcolm was,"- have been chasing this particular clan of assholes for 25 years; hell yes it's personal." Sensing he was starting to reach out of his own bounds, Art took a deep breath, chin tucking in slightly as he tried to return himself to professionalism.

"What I need is someone familiar with the ground today. Like any other craft, assholism is generationally taught and each one does it differently. I haven't been in New York since the 60's, shit," he swore with a glance at his team, who were trying their best to not have noticed his outburst.

"Landscapes change," Raylan supplied, amusement tucked into the folds of his forehead as he gestured. "Who knows that better than locals."

[abrightboy]

"Then this is the team you're looking for," Gil said, as he stepped to the front of the room. He squeezed Malcolm's shoulder, seeming to break the spell by diverting his gaze from Art to himself. Malcolm nodded in agreement with him as he let go of the profiler's shoulder.

"Dani," Gil said, "look into who's wielding the bulk of power in Sol's family these days. JT, put out a BOLO on Quarles." He turned to the Marshals. "If you want to go talk to Sol in the meantime, take Bright with you. I'll call when we find out more about the family's dynamics or we get a location on Quarles."

Good transition into next 'scene'?

[tinstar]

Art nodded and focused on Malcolm as Dani and JT filed out with their orders. "He'll already know we're in town, I'm sure. If he's in public, he's going to be well protected, but that doesn't mean he won't talk. There's a restaurant in Manhattan that he used to use as a front. How do you feel about Italian?"