"Male. Age: Thirty-Two. Caucasian. Weighed about 170 pounds when he was alive. The forensics team will tell you he weighed more, but I think maybe they just haven't lifted anything more than a pair of gloves for the last twenty years." A man in a black suit spoke to Jared. He wasn't a stranger to New York at this point, he was close enough to be involved with NYPD affairs at this point. Some lights flashed in the dark by other cars surrounding the crime scene. Some people from the forensics team were taking blood samples, others surrounded the body. Others were around the "Do Not Cross" tape. It was raining just a little, so police tents were going up to protect evidence. It wasn't unusual for murders to happen at night, less people around. "Well, there ain't no reason I see as to why ya called me down here. You're no stranger to this stuff. Why me?" Jared asked.<br/><br/>"I'm gonna get to that. Let me do my thing first." The man assured, Jared couldn't help but crack a smile as he gave the man a nod to continue on. "Time of death isn't easy to trace at this point. The cause of death is clear, but the murder weapon is beyond us at this point. Target bled out from stab wounds, four, to be exact. However, the marks match no known knife. And to make matters more peculiar, these wounds weren't made from some impulse weapon. They curve inwards, all at different angles. Now, you tell me if you've ever seen some random shard of metal that cruves inwards? And furthermore, somehow cuts through and comes right out? Sure, enough force could get a bottle opener or something in there. But to get one out? It would have made no sense for this man to stand there. He bled out, if it was something so small, he would have ran or fought back, but no signs of struggle are on the body. And we can't separate the time of the marks by even a second, oddly enough." The man said, giving Jared a look.<br/><br/>"So, you called me for opinions?" He asked, skeptically. "If there's prints-" Jared was cut off. "Hooooold it." The man said. "No prints, nothing that literally wasn't wiped away by blood anyway. But the crime scene is still being investigated. Great night for rain, right? Anyway, I've called you here because there an uh 'witness' to the crime." The man said, using air quotes when he said witness. Jared raised his brow, waiting for an explanation. "The kid mentioned you by name. So congrats buddy, because these cases have been popping up everywhere the chief of police has given you special permission to speak and follow this kid. He's actually at the crime scene as we speak. Basically, you do whatever you have to in order to solve this for us. And you get a James Bond license to kill while you do it." The man explained.<br/><br/>"Are you always this unprofessional?" Jared asked, jokingly. He knew he couldn't just walk around killing people. But he was curious as to what this meant for him. Cases like this didn't really happen, did they? "But you already know the answer. No way I'm turnin' somethin' like this down." Jared said, offering his hand to shake his old friend's. The man gladly accepted, and pointed in an off set direction. "The kid's that way. Said he'll only talk to you. But seriously. This stuff is fishy, be safe man, okay?" Jared nodded. "The victim's name, by the way?" He asked. "We identified him successfully via fingerprints and facial recognition as a Mister Elias Mitus Sanderson. As of right now, we don't have any potential suspects as to who might have made the murder or why. We have officers speaking to neighbors, friends, and co-workers. But traces of some drug we haven't identified were in him. I'm telling you Jared, this has shady written all over it." He insisted, coincidentally, they both looked over towards the person that said he'd only talk to Jared at that moment. "So that's our lead then." Jared mumbled.<br/><br/>He took one last look down at his brown suit. It was raining, sadly. Not the greatest night to be wearing a suit. Normally he didn't always feel the need to dress so formally. But for the call he got, he made certain he came bearing a good impression. He walked up to the guy that had information on the crime. He looked like a kid for the most part, certainly didn't look like the Harvard kind, but then again judging a book by it's cover didn't always work. Jared gave out his hand to shake. "My name is officer Jared Bosler. It's good to meet you, what can you tell me about this murder that we didn't already know?" Jared asked, diving right into questions.