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Where Angels Fear To Tread (PoisonousIvee/Mr.Aznable)

"I'll see you soon, handsome. Love you." She said, hanging up soon after. She didn't need to hear him say it back, especially if he was in a hurry. Dean watched Cliff move over after finally finding his smokes.
"Seems our Mr Ruth is hiding something from us. He was being rather dodgy with my questions. I'm gonna ask the girls at the station to do some digging on him." He said.
 
"A dame flighty about a man bein' punctual? Seems odd, wouldn't you agree?" Dean asked, offering a smoke.
 
"Some digging to be done to be sure." Dean said before heading to the car, "Let's get to the station and see what Mayweather has for us."
 
When they arrived at the station, they headed down to the morgue where Mayweather was busy cleaning up.
"Wha'cha got for us, Mayweather?" Dean asked. The bug eyed coroner turned and made a noise.
"I'm so glad you both showed up, I was about to have you summoned." He said as he moved to one of the fridges and pulled Mark Sims from the slot.
"His death was no mere accident." Mayweather said and Dean exhaled. Course not. "The wound from the fall was post mortem. If you two will come this way," he gestured them to come around where he pushed Mark onto his side where there were multiple stab wounds in his lower spine, "I didn't see the blood because of the sewer muck. But these would definitely cause our man to suddenly fall forward a good few feet."
"Goddammit..." Dean muttered.
 
"I wager the knife would be something small, like a stiletto or something easy to hide. Was there anything out of the ordinary at the scene?" Mayweather asked. Cliff remembered the extra set of tracks in the dirt not far from where Mark had tripped.
 
"There was an extra set of footprints at the scene, I told the camera boys to grab a couple shots of them." He said.
 
"Oh, wonderful, I'm sure molds were made. I can only assume one will belong to our man here." Mayweather said, "They should be in evidence, it'll give us an idea."
"So far, our only person of interest is Stephan Ruth..." Dean muttered.
 
Mayweather smiled sheepishly, "I'm just the coroner, detective, that isn't really my field."
"Rich old guy working as a marketing advisor, probably someone wanting his money or to take credit for somethin'..." Dean said.
 
"I wish you both luck, though." Mayweather said.
"Thanks, Mayweather. Let's go see those molds and then ask the girls upstairs for information on our friend Mr Ruth." Dean said.
 
They pulled the box, which was rather heavy, and pulled the shoe prints from inside. One set was a men's size ten, the other a twelve.
"Says here Mr Sims is the size ten." Dean muttered, "So we're looking for a man with average feet. Nice."
 
"Little larger than average.. our sketchy boss was a taller than average man, if I remember.." he said.
 
Dean gave a noise, nodding slowly, "True...but he ain't the kinda man to do his own dirty work.." He put the molds back and returned the box, "C'mon, let's go see what we can get from the girls.."
 
In the records, the lady operators were hard at work.
"Good afternoon, detective Matthews, detective Rhodes."
"Afternoon, Margie. We need some info on a Stephen Ruth, runs a marketing company on Charleston." Dean said. Margie hummed and pushed her chair toward her shelf, her finger running slowly over book spines before pulling out a rather thick binder, rolling back to the detectives.
"What would you like to know?" She asked.
"Anything you got would be great, Margie." Dean replied. She flipped it open and scanned over the names before she stopped.
"Ruth, Stephen. He's 47, lives not far from his work, he's had a couple tickets here and there, nothing terrible. Hhmm...oh, here we go." She looked up with a smile, "He was arrested when he was 17 for battery, how lovely."
 
"Hell of a temper." Dean added, "Anything else, sweetheart?"
"No, he's kept his nose clean since he got out of juvie..." She said, closing the binder, "Maybe he's just been quiet about being so naughty~"
"You're a real doll, Margie. I'll treat you one of these days." Dean grinned. Margie giggled, waving her hand.
"Anything for you two~"
 
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