Hitomi<br/><br/>The Wilds is a fairly cheap-looking, jungle themed hotel/casino, a few blocks off the Strip. The main room of the casino is very randomly oriented; thirteen stone columns, designed with various mythological jungle animals, with thirteen islands of glittering, old-fashioned, non-electronic slot machines, around thirteen game tables. Right now, the crowd is thin; a few older folk, smoking heavily around the slot machines, while only two of the tables are active. No one so much as glances up, as she enters, passing under the small sign near the door that reads "Accorded Neutral Ground."<br/><br/>Detective Kettering<br/><br/>It was a mob scene getting to the roof, where, with the glass panes opened to allow people onto the roof towards the corpse, the wind howled fiercely, this high up. "We're working on it, sir. The police will have a full report as soon as possible, and your specialists are already at the security videos, though the private suites have fewer cameras than the rest of the casino."<br/><br/>The victim, dressed in a carefully pressed suit, looks like he'd been running, before he died. His face is twisted up in a grimace of horror, as if frozen in a scream at the moment of his death. The metal rod impaling him goes right through his stomach, out the back, and into the glass; a single, solid metal rod, unadorned, at least, from what he can see, sharpened to a point and thrust through the glass, which, being thick, didn't crack much. His back is badly burned, from being exposed to the immensely powerful floodlights for a while, before being discovered.<br/><br/>Since he was found shortly after the lights were engaged, and there'd been an inspection an hour earlier, that narrows down the time of death significantly. A quick check reveals that he was alone in his private suite, at the time, close to the top floor.<br/><br/>Blake<br/><br/>Getting to the crime scene is nigh impossible; as it's atop the casino, going from the outside would require flight or invisibility. From the inside, both police and security block the only route up, a single service elevator, that leaves from one of the top floors. Since it's still an active, high-profile crime scene, civilians aren't allowed.<br/><br/>Carmen<br/><br/>"We have resources to ensure that you're more than compensated," the voice on the other line answered, vaguely. "We always watch out for our brothers and sisters, of course. As I'm sure you do, yes?"<br/><br/>It's not hard at all to find police on the premises; tired and more than a little shaken by the gruesome scene.<br/><br/>Leticia<br/><br/>"Right this way, ma'am. We were told to take you to the head of security, and to aid you however we may." Several elevator rides later, and she's in a sharply-maintained office, now littered with papers and video tapes, a frazzled looking, burly man, sitting at a computer, taking a long drink from a thermos of coffee. He looks up as she enters. "Ahh, Miss Beckett, I assume? Yes, they said you'd be coming... how may I help you?"<br/><br/>Beatrice<br/><br/>The most obvious pattern is the rising audacity of the murders; the early ones were in alleys, or smaller casinos, but as time has passed, the locations have become more famous casinos, and more elaborate, more clearly sending a message to the owners.<br/><br/>"Sorry, ma'am. I just work in the kitchens," the employee answers, between puffs on his cigarette. "Probably want to talk to security, though, from what I've seen, lot's of friends of the old man have been coming out of the woodwork. And, no, I'm not going to answer any questions." He turns back to focusing on his break, clearly not interested in talking to her.