<USS Avalon> "Investigating the Death of a Ghost - Part One"

 Investigating the Death of a Ghost - Part One

*Chief Petty Officer Matthew Swiftwind and Private Rea Joban*
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*Note and Warning: This log takes place before 'An Interrupted Call' and
contains scenes that may be disturbing, read at your own risk*

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Sydney, Earth

Leaning against the door frame, Matthew covered his nose and mouth with a
handkerchief. "How long's he been dead?"

"Since Friday, 2pm, sir," a short, mousy haired private piped up.

"Damn, that's nearly five days. Oh and I'm not a sir, Private," Matthew
laughed despite the gag reflex at the stench. "Ain't an officer, son, I work
for a living." Pointing his chin in the direction of the corpse, he asked,
"How'd he die? I'm assuming it wasn't natural causes or an accident. What
with the blood up the walls and the way he's positioned and such."

"No, sir, not an accident." Private Rea tried to smile through the ick. "We
think he may have been tortured to death. There's signs of all kinds of
trauma. But we won't know for sure exactly what killed him until we get him
back to the lab."

"How long before we can be sure?" the Native American asked, his eyes
starting to water a little.

"Couple of hours once we move him," Joban shrugged. He offered the Chief a
smile. "Never seen one this bad, sir?"

"Not since the war and even then not like this." Matthew felt his stomach
turn but he managed to keep his breakfast down. "Can I have a poke around in
the rest of the house, Private?"

"Sure, just don't touch anything in the crime scene without gloves on," the
little Bajoran warned. "We've done the initial sweep so we have most of the
evidence, we just have to do the direct scene now."

"Let me know when you're done," Matthew said, already pulling on the
protective gloves. "Oh, what's the vic's name?"

"Doctor Samuel Jameson, sir."

Matthew grunted as he slipped past the Private. "Next of kin?"

"Not my area, sir, but I'd hazard a guess at a daughter."

"Not a sir," Matthew reminded him, quickly taking two steps at a time to the
upper level of the small house. "Call me Chief. Any thing else you can tell
me about him?"

"He lived alone. A woman came in twice a week to clean the downstairs but
she said she was never allowed up here." The Bajoran puffed a little as he
tried to keep up. "It was her," he consulted his PADD, "Mrs Eileen Brett,
who found him when she came in this morning. She wasn't exactly what you'd
call devastated though. After the initial shock and throwing up and such,
she's been extremely calm and collected. Actually," the Bajoran smirked
despite it all, "she called him a weasel of a man, nasty and petty."

"I want to talk to her before you let her go. Might be our first suspect."
Matthew headed first to the bedroom. It was neat, obsessively so, almost as
if the man slept here and nothing else. There was one wardrobe filled with
suits and one chest of drawers for the rest of his clothes. "Damn," he
muttered, "he even folded his underpants."

Rea Joban chuckled as he ran his tricorder over everything they found. "Only
his particulates, Chief. Well and yours and mine."

"Really? And here I thought I'd showered this morning," Matthew laughed,
finally able to breathe. "No pictures of family, no personal affects. What
was this man, a ghost?"

"No, sir, and you wouldn't say that if you'd spent just five minutes down
there with the body." Joban poked around in a small chest at the base of the
bed. "Sir, there's some pictures in here. A woman in a wheelchair and a
platinum blonde youngish looking woman, neither together or with the vic."

"Still not a sir, Private." Matthew peered at the pictures. There was one of
the girl in a graduation robe for the Academy and a date on the back
declaring it to be barely two years ago. "Wife and daughter maybe?"

"He lives alone now though, Chief."

"Yeah well, if he was as obnoxious as his cleaning lady says, d'you blame
anyone for divorcing him?" Crouching down by Joban, Matthew rifled through
the pictures then stood again. "Is there an office? Any personal PADDs? A
console somewhere?"

"Second door on your right," the Private said, pointing at the door.

"K, get back to the body, I'll be down in a minute. I just want to download
his files to my PADD."

Joban watched as the tallish man disappeared. "Wish I knew why it's
Starfleet dealing with this and not the civilian police," he muttered.

After downloading everything he needed, Matthew trudged back down to the
crime scene. The corpse was nailed to the floor, a look of extreme pain on
his face. Glancing at him, Matthew had to bite back another wave of nausea
as he realised that most of his stomach and intestines were scattered around
the body in a ring. Symbols in a language he didn't recognise were drawn in
the victim's blood across the floor and walls.

"Damn but someone hated this guy," Matthew mused.

"Yes Chief. Hated with a passion." Joban nodded to a personal transporter
operator. The body disappeared in a twinkle of blue light, leaving the scene
for the investigators. "All yours."

"Assist me, Private," Matthew asked as he knelt by the area recently
evacuated by the corpse. "Unless you're needed by the coroner."

"No, Chief, I'm just a Private, nothing special."

"Okay then, you take that half of the room, I'll start here."

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