I'm Sorry She's Gone


audrey2_icon.gif cooper_icon.gif logan_icon.gif

Scene Title I'm sorry she's gone.
Synopsis Cooper and Audrey descend on Burlesque to talk with the owner.
Date March 11, 2010


A flashy little strip club, its name advertised in bright neon pink above the door in swooping cursive, with the figure of a woman outlined in the same seeming to kick a leg with each flash of the light. Two bouncers stand by the door, which is a reflective chrome and stays closed unless opened by the security duo, with a red carpeting extending out onto the pavement. They will check you for I.D. before permitting you entrance. You'll be greeted by a woman in full burlesque regalia, with exaggerated makeup, a corset that barely keeps everything in, fishnets and feathers. Provided you can pay the cover charge, she will show you to a table, offer to get your first drink of the evening, and leave you alone to enjoy what Burlesque has to offer.

The main room's focal point is the generous stage, a circular platform with Broadway lights around the edges, and a catwalk that extends further out into the scattered round tables where patrons can sit and drink. The lights that shine down on it are never particularly clear, often shards of pink, green, blue, which hide as much as they reveal. There is almost always a dancer on the stage, even as even more girls move around the room to give more intimate shows on tabletops. There's a long bar that crawls along one side of the room, with a couple of bartenders behind it, a counter of black glass with rows and rows of liquor on display on glass shelves. Leather booths are tucked away towards the back, offering some privacy for whatever purpose.

Despite the proposed theme of the club, impressions of burlesque only factor in with the permanent staff and particular shows of featured dancers. Otherwise, the tunes are standard for any kind of strip club, and the girls will wear what they like. There are private lounges for more expensive, personal shows, and a darkly lit, obscured staircase leading up to both dressing rooms and the manager's office.

In the interest of practicality, red carpet hour is strictly metaphorical even if it does not happen to be snowing today. The cold has driven away a lot of the clientele, besides, but as they say in showbusiness— and Burlesque has the audacity to claim that it has a stake in such a business— the show must go on. There's a laminated poster in the window, promising the appearance of someone named Bettie Fetish, curves lit greenly with graphical stars where it counts, for a performance on both Friday and Saturday.

It's Thursday, and there's an empty feel to the place, as much as it isn't literally so. No hen or stag parties tonight, a dotting of clientele dimly watching a woman clad mostly in frills making a flesh-flashing feat of acrobatics around the silver pole of centre stage. Surely, surely, there is work for Logan to do. Managing, and things. He is, instead, seated with a near empty glass of whiskey being contemplated in front of him, lithely tailored frame anonymous whenever his seating place of choice doesn't catch the light — which it does, a golden sweep of illumination that strikes at his table every ten seconds or so in the same way green, pink, blue scan around the rest of the club at intervals.

His immediate table is smoggy with cigarette smoke, but more importantly, he's alone, feet kicked up on a chair adjacent to him and fingernails working at a fidget along his whiskey glass as he watches the stage like he's obligated to.

"That your wife?" There's a gesture to 'bettie's' poster and a glance towards cooper as they head on into the club. Both quite obviously above the age of 21. Audrey didn't come with tassels, at least none that Cooper can see nor will be allowed to see. Burlesque is not her type of place, normally not caught dead here when not on duty. There's an idle thought of whether it might have been better to sic Felix on this place but Felix's unfounded accusation of a warrant and particular nastiness in human traffic'ing has her thinking maybe it was better she didn't.

"keep your eyes in your skull cooper, and your hand out of your pants. We're here for business. You even deign to ask me if I feel like getting up and shaking my badges you'll learn what blue balls really does mean"

His outfit from earlier hasn't exactly changed, Cooper is still in the black slacks, the maroon dress shirt, the dark gray sports jacket and sneakers — cause you never know when you'll have to chase someone. His idea of dressing sharp was making sure there was no white power on his clothing, and the buttons on his shirt buttoned up. Oh, and he ran a comb through his head. Of course, he has on a black trench coat over it all, so at the moment it doesn't matter.

Glancing, sideways at his companion, Cooper can't help but whisper helpfully to counter her, risking his life to mention that, "You said you'd wear pasties." Eyes drift down briefly, before he gives her a lop-sided smile. "Come on.. just gimme a hint, tell me they are under there? But.. I will remember that badges line for next time." There is a flash of white teeth in that grin he gives her, before it fades away to look at the shiny pole and then the poster again, he looks a touch nervous. "But… No… Not her, however, if you see a red head, with big breasts — which by the way, that money was suppose to be for college — and a look in her eye that could wither your nuts to dust, don't look her in the eye, you'll probably turn to stone." He hisses those words, eyes darting around until he spots Logan. "You think you're a ball buster? She's worse."

That warning given, he starts for the familiar man, at the smoky table. Hands at his side, out of his pockets, he shows that he's clearly unarmed…. in more then one way. With hope, the owner doesn't recognize him. "Mr. John Logan." He offers pleasantly with a smile that looks more like a smirk, he's minus the several week scruff and the bed head, but it's still the man who pointed a gun in the man's face and arrested him. "Detective Thomas Cooper, my companion here is Agent Audrey Hanson. Hope we're not interrupting anything." Which clearly they are not… sorta.

Fortunately, Logan has had a lot of people point guns at him in his time and not all of them he quite remembers. Memory doesn't seem to spark when he steers a look from stage to Cooper, pale eyes bland and devoid of much, in fact, which could be attributed to the drink mostly finished on the table — mostly, he's just not immediately sure what performance to put on as he glances suspiciously to Audrey, and doesn't get up for them. "I don't suppose you are. Are you going to tell me what you want," and he slides a look on over to Audrey once more, up and down then up to her eyes, "or do I get to guess?"

"The day I let you see my intimates Cooper is the day I let you see my casefile intimately. And even then, probably not" But she just offers up that half smile to logan, not offering her badge unless he demands to see it. "Where were you on the fourth of March, a week ago. At approximately half past nine Mr. Logan?" Audrey's moving for a chair, dragging it over to sit on it backwards, arms up on the back.

Cooper's mouth starts to open to say something and Audrey starts up with the questioning. Instead, he motions at Audrey with him thumb, brows lifting slightly above his own pale green eyes as he comments, "Ah… What she asked." He doesn't sit though, a nervous glances goes over the place, maybe he plans to get a good head start is a certain buxom red head pops out. Which might be the real reason for the sneakers.

He starts to tuck hands in his pockets for need to do something with them, but remembered the Agents warning, eventually, he settles on crossing his arms, which does not thing to make him look intimidating. Obviously, Cooper is far from the bad cop… in the sense of looking mean.

"Fuck, I hope I was asleep, what an ungodly hour." Taking his shoes off the still vacated chair, Logan nudges it forward in invitation towards Cooper, sniffing once as he studies the burning end of his cigarette, before taking a quick breath of it. "Make yourself comfortable, the lady already is," he tells him, then narrows his eyes. "Didn't you have me in handcuffs at least once?" It's to Audrey that he notes, in a conspiring voice that's still designed to carry to Cooper's ears, "Cleans up nicely, doesn't he?"

"Not my pick for a guy, his shoes could use some work. Half past nine in the evening Mr. Logan. We have eyewitness's that place you in the solstice condominiums on the evening of March fourth, going up the stairs to the apartment of a woman by the name of Wendy Hunter" Audrey leans her weight to one side, the smirk still on her face. "How would you characterize you're relationship with the deceased"

"Yeah.. actually I did." Cooper offers flatly, a small smile tugging up the corner of his mouth, eyeing the chair as if considering the pros and cons. "But not the pink fuzzy animal print kind." A glance is tosses at Audrey and then down at his shoes, the toes coming off the floor a bit. Brows lift slightly, he shifts his weight a bit to lift a foot off the ground enough he can rotate the foot.

"Hey.. mock the shoes all you want, but at least my feet won't hurt if running is involved." He studies Logan for a moment longer, cause he could be a good reason for running, before finally pulling the chair where he can settle into it.

Clearing his throat, Logan taps off dead ash into the glass tray taking up the centre of the table, somehow not baited into debating shoes. His own has silver lining the soles and shine with patent leather, about as flashy as the rest of his wardrobe tonight as much as pinstripes have long since replaced tiger stripes. "I can tell you I wasn't at the Solstice Condo on the evening of March the fourth. I was right 'ere. Ask the house mum if you like. As for Wendy, we were friends, weren't we?" He gives Audrey a thin smile.

"Oh not what we heard" What he was to Wendy. Audrey leans back, digging her little black book - not your one with phone numbers - out of a back pocket, unclipping the pen and then clicking the pen. Her holster with it's ink black weapon within the hoslter very visible. "WE have been told that you were her fairweather lover, occasional resident of 102 in SOlstice Condo's. In your time spent at the deceaseds residence did you ever notice anything strange, any individuals who perhaps hung around that might have been suspiscious?" Coopers looked at to allow him a chance to aska question too.

It's Logan's flashiness that is currently distracting, the detective, his head tilting slightly as he looks down at those silvery and shiny shoes. Not too often he sees something like that. Course, Cooper can't help but wonder if Logan could pull off a dress, he's got that look about him.. he'd either make a good Patrick Sawyze drag.. or Westley Snipes. Brows furrow slightly, Hmm… maybe something in between.

Out of the corner of his eye he notices Audrey looking at him, Cooper turns his head a bit to give her an innocent look. What? Then brows lift as he looks back to Logan. Oh! "Anyone else she associated with.. Refrain dealers? Other nightly visitors?" He mirrors Audrey in that he pulls out a tiny notebook, this one has a bright blue cover, the pages look like they have seen better says. He has to do some flipping to find a blank page, time to grab a new one from the local grocery store. A click pen follows.

Logan tilts his head a little at Audrey's correction as to his relationship with Wendy, making a vague handgesture that paints a ribbon of smoke in the air from his cigarette. "Yeah yeah yeah. People do tend to talk, don't they. They're about right — I got free access to her place, came and went as I chose, and if she happened to be there, sometimes we fucked. Didn't take her to dinners, didn't go dancing, didn't meet 'er parents. I am, however, sorry she's gone."

Finishing off the last of his whiskey, he cuts a look towards Cooper over the rim of his glass, then offers a smile. "I've not a clue about any Refrain dealers, though I know she was trying to get off it," he says. "And as for nightly visitors, she didn't share, unfortunately. Dunno about strange," he adds, looking to Audrey, "but I dunno why you're asking me, either."

"A accessory to the crime-" Okay Sylar wasn't an accessory that she could prove. "Was seen entering the building under an illusion that was identified as you Mr. Logan. You admit to having been in an active relationship with the deceased and so your name came up as one of the individual with who we should speak with. That he used your likeness to get access to the building means that he was around long enough to discern that you were a visitor to the deceased. Didn't want to waste unecessary time by dragging you down to the homeland offices to chat. Thought you'd be more comfortable on home ground and all"

The notebooks pages are flipped after audrey licks her thumb to moisten it. "The deceased was found with Clonidine in her bloodstream and the bottle on the table. It is a drug used to help mitigate the effects of detoxing on the body and ease symptoms. She was indeed getting clean off of Refrain. Detective Cooper here says that you've been run in for dealing Refrain?" But she's derailing, pretty sure that Refrain didn't have a part in this.

"We're trying to find her killer Mr. Logan. Sounds like you had it pretty good with her. WHo wouldn't. Rich girl, druggie. They're weak. Give them a little attention and they're like putty in your hands. You're sorry she's gone. How about being sorry enough to help us out here. Did you see or notice anything off the last time you visited her that might be worth mentioning?"

Cooper starts to correct her, but decides to just let it go, but does offers, "You were picked up on a raid for Refrain and other such drugs." But that's it, about it. A tight lipped smile going to Logan, as Cooper writes something in his notebook, of course, there is another quick glance when some one walks by. A bit jumpy.

"Even if you know the names of some of her friends, that would be helpful." The detective states turning his attention back to Logan, a brow lifting. "Some one might know something." It wasn't a random crime, in his head. He reaches into his jacket and pulled out a piece of paper folded in half. It's unfolded and set on the table. It's not a perfect sketch, the features are there though, enough for friends or people close to Eileen Ruskin might get a clue. "While we're at it.. Could you look at this?" He leans forward pushing it closer to the other man, "Tell me if this woman looks familiar?"

For his correcting troubles, Cooper gets a wink from Logan, a subtle kind of trading gesture before he leans back into his chair, listening to the law enforcers as if he's only reluctantly paying attention, a crease forming at his brow from a frown. As the sketch is pulled out, Logan can't quite stop an impulsive— and not at all mirthful— smile from cutting across his features. Heated resentment is only communicated in the brightness of his eyes. Because he's seen the picture before.

And he knows who is in it. "Eileen Spurling. Or— " Irritation deepens his frown. "That's what it fucking looks like. She works here, or used to, she's taken some time off as of— now that you mention it, last week, I think. Look, I've not met the bloke who killed Wendy Hunter, I've not seen the bloke who killed Wendy Hunter, but Eileen's best wet dream starts with an S and ends with an ylar. Go on, ask me how I know that one."

Must. Refrain. From. creaming. Pants.

Or from showing the even more undivided attention that Logan gets from the Homeland agent. Heart rate increases and the little extra push of adrenaline is injected into her bloodstream at the name. Cooper can't see it, but Logan might be able to sense it. "I'll bite" Audrey's jaw just out a fraction before she reels it back in, swiping her tongue across the inside of her left cheek. "Why do you know that one?"

The wink is returned with a blink from the detective. There is something unnerving about being flirted by a guy, who's just so gosh darn pretty. "I - admit. I'm curious too." Cooper isn't as intimately familiar with that case, having been a Jersey Narcotics cop for so many years, but he's read about it. Not to mentions… Duh… Midtown man. Unlike, Audrey… nothing tent worthy at least.

The picture is retrieved with a quick snatch, and carefully folded. The name Eileen Spurling repeated over and over in his head till he gets it tucked away and the name jotted down.

"She said it while I fucked her." And Logan casts them a smile that goes to the canines, wolfish and somehow not communicating the bragging facetiousness that should go with it, pale eyes always a little colder than what he tries to portray. "Now, most men might feel a little slighted by such an incident, but when it comes to women with a thing for serial killers, there's really no point in trying to compare unless you're willing to get your hands dirty, if you know what I mean."

She'll inform Cooper later that Spurling's already been interrogated. She's still wanting to swing by the womans place again, have another chat. "You think that the man responsible for Midtown was the guy who did in your lover then?" Audrey rolls her neck, shifting in the chair so she can lean an elbow against the back of it and regard Logan.

"What reason do you have to think he's responsible and not some other person with a thing for artistic druggie heiress's?"

Writing hand pauses in mid-stroke of that clickie pen, Cooper's eyes come off the paper and lift to Logan, a brow lifted. Call him a confused man, but he makes sure it doesn't show. His head turns slightly to glance at Audrey, this is going beyond what he knows. So he's just kind of treading water at this point.

But then…. he hasn't seen the tapes, so he's allowed. Brows drop a bit, at her. Some other person? How could it be another person? Of course, how would he know the MO? Pale eyes moves back to the peacock of a man. "She's got a good question there, Mr. Logan." It's all he can say to that, nothing witty at that point.

"Because she wasn't just a druggie heiress," Logan states, grinding out his cigarette as he says it. "She's an Evolved druggie heiress. Between that and you," he nods towards Cooper, "waving around the face of his little girlfriend, I say it can't be hard to put two and two together, innit." His mouth twists into a smirk, studying the bottom of the whiskey glass as he rolls its rounded end against the table. "Even for coppers. Don't see why a junkie would get killed just for being a junkie, and if you're angling in on the heiress thing, I sure as fuck wasn't in her will."

"Sylar has been cleared in this investigation. He is not being looked at as a suspect Mr. Logan. We are very well aware of Ms. Hunters ability and it's exact use." Audrey pushes her lips together, corners of her eyes crinkling into some semblance of a smile. "If it were him, we wouldn't be barking up your tree Mr. Logan. But since you seem to have been pre-occupied that evening here…" She looks over to Cooper. "You have any further questions for him detective?" The brunette uses her weight to lever herself back up and swing a leg from one side of the chair so she's no longer straddling it and makes to spin the chair back to it's proper table.

A slight jerk of Coopers head Audrey's way, shows just how little the two sides of the Law enforcement coin talk to each other. This was definitely news to him, brows furrow slightly, expression turning thoughtful, until she looks at him. A blink. "What? Oh!" Glancing at Logan, Cooper gives a shake of his head. "None. If I think of something, Mr. Logan, I'll be back in touch." Pushing to his feet, the detective tucks the notebook and pen into his coat. A moment is taken to fish something else out. "Do appreciate you taking the time to talk to us."

With a little flick, Cooper tosses his business card on the table, the embossed badge, glinting slightly. "If you happen to find out something else.. or remember something." A hesitant smile is given, since he doesn't want to come off as flirting or something. Never know with that type, "Give a call, hmm?"

The cop and agent get increduility from the former pimp, looking between them before he puts out a hand, fingers wriggling in a gesture bidding them to— "Hang on. You're ruling out the Midtown Man?" he asks, a cattish kind of disbelieving smile on his face before it dims. "You're serious. 'course you are. Coppers don't 'ave a sense of humour." A glance to Cooper, and he allows, "A good sense of humour. Blimey. Maybe you should ask Sylar, then. If anyone saw anything unusual, it'll be 'im."

He's mostly sarcastic, a sneer on his mouth as he settles back into his chair from that lean forward, then squares a look up at Cooper. A short amount of silence, before he takes the card, holding it up between two fingers and brushing it against the collar of his shirt. "My, and then we could go out for drinks and see where the night leads us, like my mouth around your cock."

The act drops, and he slides the card into his jacket pocket. "You're not that cute, darling — next time, don't take twenty fucking minutes to decide if you want to sit down with me in case I get the wrong idea. Don't believe everything you see in prison."

"I'll have to see if I can't follow up on your suggestion if I ever get my hands on him. Slipperly little bastard that he is." Audrey's digging out her own card, nothing so fancy as embossed, just standard homeland issue with it's little eagle crest on the corner. "I do appreciate you taking the time Mr Logan, from your evening to speak with us. I didn't think you'd appreciate being summoned downtown. If I have any more questions, I will be in contact. If you should perhaps find out where Mr. Sylar ends up showing his head so that I can speak with him, do call" there goes her tongue again, pushing against the inside of her teeth.

Audrey turns then, after a curt nod and a glance to Cooper with raised brows before she starts to head out. There's pause long enough to swing by the stage and tuck a twenty into the jar of the blonde who does unspeakable things, legal unspeakable things to the pole. She can appreciate what drives a person to do this. College bills and all that. Who knows.

Might be a future lawyer.

The detective stares at Logan for a good long moment, before he suddenly lets out a short disbelieving laugh. "Buddy, even if I was into sword play, you'd certainly not be my type." He gives a jerk of a thumb at Audrey. "She's more my type." Maybe it's an insult to Audrey, but more then likely not. "And trust me… my hesitation for sitting wasn't you, pretty as you may be….."


It's too chipper for words. "Oh… fuck me." The words are filled with so much pain, eyes closing for a moment. It's a voice that for the detective is like nails on a chalk board, belonging to a busty redhead that just spotted him. "If you'll excuse me." He gives the owner of the establishment a small unamused smile, as his eyes open again, before turning and hurrying away. He sweeps by Audrey and hisses. "Don't look her in the eye.." ..cause she'll follow you home. Then it's every man for himself, cause he's not waiting for the Home Sec agent.

Logan— frankly stares after Cooper, mouth a little agape. Straight men thinking that ~fags~ want to fuck them isn't anything new, no, but continuing to think that after a verbal bitchslapping is something to write home about. But Cooper is scurrying away before Logan can consider getting arrested for punching him in the mouth, which— all the better. He's not sure if Caliban would bail him out for that one.

Stealing up his empty glass, the chair rattles against the table with a short show of irritation of shoving it back into place as he heads to go get said glass filled up again. Americans. Christ.

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