Fic: RunAway - XLV. Information
Feb. 1st, 2007 05:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silentdescantChapter Title: Information
Dominic Bernard Patrick Luke Monaghan, born December 8, 1976, died (allegedly) October 21, 2006.
His house in Hawaii had already been resold, his belongings in storage in LA, care of Elijah Wood. His bank account records hadn’t come through yet, but Jack wasn’t counting on anything magically appearing there; the police would have seen it when they conducted their investigation. And speaking of the police, Jack wasn’t sure how different it was in New Zealand, but he imagined they were pretty thorough in their investigation. All Jack had to go on right now was a drunken man’s word that Dominic called him in the middle of the night. Phone records did show a call that night, but it lasted mere minutes, and the phone number was restricted.
Jack sighed and leaned back in his chair, pushing the file away. Monaghan was dead. Boyd was just overcome with the loss of a former lover. Jack frowned; Billy was his client. He had been hired to find Monaghan. Just because Jack didn’t believe the man was still alive, he couldn’t do a half-arsed job of his search.
He reached over and pressed ‘play’ on his tape recorder. The tinny sound of Billy’s careful, steady voice filtered through the small speaker.
“He was really depressed after I left. For a while, he ignored me completely, but then he started calling every night. Usually drunk, I think. Then one day, the calls just… stopped. Few days later, I get Elijah telling me that Dom’s gone missing, that he disappeared without a word to anyone. Apparently he left notes for some of his friends, but none of them were true. I didn’t even get one. A while after that, I got this letter [sound of paper rustling] in the mail and Lijah and Sean and I went straight to En Zed. Police found beer bottles, blood, hair, sleeping pills… Everything pointed to a suicide. Dom was depressed enough when I last heard from him that it seemed entirely too plausible. Some time went by, I know you’ve heard about that incident with that bastard in LA, and I got drunk one night. He called me. He didn’t say who it was, but I recognized his voice, and he was crying. I tried to keep him on the phone, but he hung up and I couldn’t call him back.”
Jack jumped when his phone rang and he picked it up hastily. “Hello, Jack Jason, who’s this?”
“Hi, I’m Amy from the police department in New Zealand. You called earlier about accessing the file on Dominic Monaghan?”
“Yes! Yes, thank you.”
“Can I fax you copies of all the crime scene photos and witness statements?”
“Please do.” Jack rattled off his fax number and turned on the ancient machine. “Do you have Monaghan’s bank statements logged as evidence?”
“Yes, I’ll send those with the rest of his file.”
“Thank you very much, Amy. Pleasure talking to you.”
“You as well.”
As soon as he hung up the phone, his fax machine shuddered to life. Page after page spit out, and Jack grabbed them as they came, scanning each quickly. There were high-resolution color images of both the crime scene and the logged evidence, as well as copies of all the witness statements and paperwork. Jack was impressed.
***
Four hours later, Jack was scribbling on a white-board and sticking post-it notes to every available surface. Something didn’t add up quite right. Could Billy be right about Dominic being alive?
Next: Inconsistency