<div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 16pt;"><em>Jacqueline Meredith Blakesley</em></span> <br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;"><em>Homicide Inspector at Crime Scene</em></span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><em>'Officer Crawford and a deranged homeless man in her sights.  Goody, goody.'</em></span></span></div><hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://tinyurl.com/867s24h)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">It was somewhat startling how the homeless man seemed to be trying to either get out of the car, or just away from Officer Crawford.  The wild look in his eyes seemed to be corroborated with hint of magic in the air around the poor man - to which it took nearly all the will power Jacqueline had not to respond to that, than the craziness of this entire moment.  She'd hardly needed really to assist as it seemed that Crawford had the situation in hand until the man really started to thrash.  Jack placed her hand on the homeless mans shoulder, also trying to get him to calm.<br/><br/><em>"Listen to him ..."</em> she started to say, until the man rambled on about something burning, at which she turned her lips down into a brief frown.  There was no possible way to get the homeless man out of here - to -really- question him, she figured, and maintaining her cover as a mortal was very important to her.  The last thing she wanted was any kind of exposure at all - part of her job was to a degree of making strange cases disappear - so she knew quite a bit more about the activity in past years of demonic and witches' assistance in the city than most police would even dream of.<br/><br/><em>"What burns, mister?  Can you tell us?  Perhaps ... as the Officer said, a nice meal would be of some help.  I give you my word you're in no trouble.  I'm Inspector Blakesley; you can call me Jack, and this is  ... Crawford, if I remember rightly."</em>  Her dark gaze settled on Crawford as she flicked a lock of straight black hair out of her face.  For a moment, she felt as though she'd give her right arm for even the ability to soothe the poor man.  <br/><br/>Having been raised by her uncle Sam in her teenage years she knew a good deal of the stories in the city of those 'charmed witches' and their offspring.  The idea that the relative quiet that had fallen over the world as a result of the death of so much evil would lift ... was alarming, and to Jack, meant one thing.  That soon enough, whether she wanted or no, she'd run across her father - one of the few demons that had not run afoul of the witches in San Francisco.<br/><br/><em>"I honestly see no need to really hold this man - except as a witness - attempted theft of the deceased's wallet aside ..."</em>  Yet, her words trailed off as the man went still, the eyes unblinking.  Jack snatched her hand away, and took a deep breath.  Their only somewhat witness had just expired right there.  While she was familiar with death, it was not something one expected to see - and she watched with wide eyes as the spirit pulled away from the body - and seemed to fade - she could sense an angel of death near - yet could not see it.    <br/><br/><em>"... Unexpected ..."</em> she murmured, and looked at Officer Crawford, somewhat stunned as to what had just occurred, and frustrated.  She'd felt the homeless man expire.  This was so very much not her evening.  <em>"He was the only witness, and I do not know what he meant ... by burning."</em>  Inspector Blakesley shifted her petite frame out of the police car, and leaned against the side of the car behind the door.  This investigation was becoming more screwed up by the moment, and her Captain would likely flip a lid if she even so much as hinted at this situation being unexplainable by natural means.  <br/><br/>Raising a hand, she started to flag down the medical examiner - whom had yet to take care of the first body.</span></span>