<div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><em>Just One Sip of Mystery</em></span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Tagging: Jacqueline</span></span></div><br/><br/>The eyes of Officer Schmitt swiveled from the crime scene to the Inspector, and he had to keep himself from rolling his eyes.  He'd been on the force long enough to know how they operated, and just because this one was hot enough to get him imagining her without so much clothes on, didn't mean he was going to let her charm him while he was on the clock.  The all too male part of him did appreciate her appealing good looks though.<br/><br/>He nodded along as she spoke about the victims heart, and her experience with fire.  Those were reasonable assertions, and he wasn't going to argue against them.  He watched as she moved closer to the body, and finally found something to contribute when she mentioned that this crime scene was just a little too contrived to be random; he had had the same conclusion during the first minute he had shown up on the scene.<br/><br/>"<strong>I see a lot of senseless and random murders on the beat, but you're right about this one, it feels too convenient, and when you combine with how many kids are being found murdered lately, I'd put money that this one is somehow connected to those as well.</strong>"  His voice trailed off, as he stepped closer to the body, a moment after the Inspector moved away to talk to a techi.  Her next question caught his attention again.<br/><br/>"<strong>I was the first on the scene.  This is my usual beat, and I was driving by when I spotted something suspicious in the alley.  Turns out a homeless man was looking for the kids wallet, although he didn't have one on him, and there isn't one on the body either.  My guess is that the body had already been picked over, or he never had one on him in the first place, which wouldn't be such a stretch.  The man trying to pick his pockets is in the police car over there.</strong>"  He pointed in the direction of the street, where the outline of a scruffy head through the windows of a black and white could be seen.  "<strong>And I've been here since than.</strong><br/><br/><hr/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><em>Just a Hint of Something Abnormal</em></span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Tagging: Austin</span></span></div><br/>The bespectacled face of a detective looked up from a piece of evidence he was examining, and squinted at the officer in front of him.  His eyes swept over the mans face, following his gaze over to the body, and back up to the officer.  Internally, he sighed, recognizing the look in the mans face.  While most cops, except for the rookies, were used to these scenes, sometimes they would catch an officer by surprise, and they'd get that same shocked look.  His eyes swept back down to the scrap of paper held in the mans hands, and he pulled off his gloves, stowing them in his left jacket pocket, before pulling out a fresh pair from his right pocket.  With the new pair securely on, he held out his hand, the look in his eyes naturally impatient.<br/><br/>"<strong>I'd suggest not looking at it, if it bothers you so much.</strong>"  His eyes remained glued to the man, and he could see a 'Cha' on the paper, his mind was already jumping ahead to what the implications of such a paper may be.<br/><br/>Before Officer Crawford could speak, the sounds of banging and yelling could be found coming from the street.  The homeless man who had been handcuffed and sitting in the squad car had suddenly turned violent, and he was banging his head against any surface he could get in contact with.  The words, "<strong>He came from thin air!</strong>being repeated over and over again.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><em>An Opportune meeting</em></span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Tagging: Bianca</span></span></div><br/>The larger man snorted internally to himself, dealing with witches, even the Phoenix was a chore in and of itself, and one he didn't particularly find amusing.  His face didn't show any hint of what he was feeling though, and his eyes finally raised from the cup he was stirring, up to the witch again.  She was pretty though, and her talents more than made up for her witch heritage.  A stray thought entered his mind, and he felt himself agreeing, this was much better than going on recruitment duty; at least here, he didn't have to pretend to care about the little whelps.<br/><br/>"<strong>That last bounty was unfortunate, but there's always a risk of danger in a job, right?  This one is a bit different.  He's the father of one of the bastards who attacked my daughter.  He's some sort of big shot, has a security detail and everything.  You'll find all the information I was able to gather in the file.  But once you take him out of the picture, you won't have to worry about anyone coming after you, the mans an ass hole, not many people would be willing to avenge his untimely death.</strong>"  After he had finished talking, his hand reached into his jacket and pulled out a moderately sized file, he stared at it for a moment before sliding it towards the witch.<br/><br/>Although the file wasn't as big as one would expect, since it carried (almost) a lifetimes worth of information, but it was comprehensive, and well put together.  On the first page, the usual information could be found, as well as a clear photo paper clipped onto the sheet.<br/><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Richard Merriweather Price<br/><strong>DOB:</strong>August 19, 1965<br/><strong>Profession:</strong>Importer/Exporter<br/><strong>Address':</strong>1485 Steiner St, Pacific Heights, CA 94115<br/><strong>Marital Status:</strong>Married to one Dorlene Francis Pacer<br/><strong>Offspring:</strong>Has two children, one 15 year old girl named Tracy, and a 24 year old boy named Seth.<br/><strong>Hobbies:</strong>Tennis, Golf, Collector of Wine, and sleeping around.<br/><strong>Short Bio:</strong>Born to a moderately middle class family in the San Franando valley, he made good by graduating from college, and worked his way up through a fairly successfull Import/Export business,  Through a variety of shady dealings, he's been able to make a profit on the backs of criminals, Sweat shop workers in poor, underdeveloped countries, and the drug business.<br/><strong>Schedule:</strong>(The best time to strike would be in the parking complex after he get's off work.)<br/><br/><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td>8:45 am</td><td>Wakes up</td></tr><tr><td>9:45 am</td><td>Leaves for work</td></tr><tr><td>11:05 am</td><td>Grabs coffee at Constance's Cafe - Located outside his work.</td></tr><tr><td>3:00 Pm</td><td>Eats at Poet's Diner - Approximately four blocks away from work.</td></tr><tr><td>4:15 Pm</td><td>Returns to work.</td></tr><tr><td>7:00 Pm</td><td>Departs for home.</td></tr><tr><td>7:10 PM</td><td>Leaves parking garage.</td></tr><tr><td>8:10 Pm</td><td>Arrives Home</td></tr></tbody></table><br/>The rest of the folder was filled with miscellaneous information concerning his day to day activities, and the variety of people who routinely made an appearance in his life.<br/>