<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 Schmitt 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/>Though Jack busied herself with briefly taking a thorough look about the alley - and taking even a few notes scrawled with rapidly written Chinese on a notepad tugged from her the left pocket of her slacks - she heard everything that Officer Schmitt said.  The consideration that he was first on scene was important, as well as the fact that he'd connected - even tentatively - this crime to her other cases.  The Captain would be not only be irate that there was another case that was not at all simple - but that she was involved in it.  She uttered an oath under her breath in Mandarin.  The whole thing was just irritating beyond end - and placed her in a position in which ... she had no interest in being.<br/><br/>Yet, the fact that the man that had been here with Schmitt initially - was a note for the good.  She nodded briskly at Schmitt, the friendly manner once again buried by business.  <em>Fair enough</em>, she thought.  <em>If he'd rather not be given credit for his work, I can manage that. </em><br/><br/><em>"I should speak to him.  Thank you very much, Officer.  I suspect once things calm down here you can head back to file your own report."</em><br/><br/>It was a quick few steps toward the police car holding the shadowy man that she couldn't - without using those additional senses - quite make out.  She needed to talk to him, badly.  Last she knew, that sign on the back of the neck of the kids was bad news.  So bad, that she really didn't want to be involved in it.  Things were more and more panning out toward a direction she had less interest in travelling by the second.  Yet - her Uncle was prone to saying things happened for a reason - and that the lives of innocents were most important ... actually, everything he said just sort of made sense.<br/><br/>It was when Jacqueline stepped off the curb and started to walk toward the squad car - and past Officer Crawford - that the homeless man in the vehicle began bouncing around like a damned firecracker and yelling at the top of his lungs by the look of the strain she could make out on the man's face.  Her brows furrowed as she quickened her stride, moving to approach the car.  <br/><br/><em>"What the ... hells bells!  Get him to calm down.  The last thing we need is a falsified charge of police brutality!"</em><br/><br/>Jack had all but snarled under her breath as she continued toward crossing the street toward the squad car.  Her head was still pounding, and she'd hardly slept at all in the past day or so.  She'd seen those kinds of tricks and was actually expecting it, that - or an attempt to break out of the car by attempting to garner some sort of attention.  Witch or demon?  Which door of opportunity would it be?  Regardless, she knew at least one would have a price she didn't feel like paying.  The temptation to simply incinerate whom ever had caused all this mess was rising by the second.  She needed to get a hold on her anger. </span>