1965-06-11 - I, Spy...
Summary: Yuliya gets Amber into her sleuthing insurance-adjuster gig. Hijinks ensue.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
Amber Yuliya 


Why has Yuliya dragged Amber along on some strange thing? Well, she's still trying to find enough evidence of what she suspects might be insurance fraud. The black Impala sits at the curb in one of the upscale districts, blending in with the other cars around it. Yuli's not in a business suit for once, instead she's wearing jeans and a jacket and her black hair has been replaced by a red wig. Her seat is pulled back slightly and she's watching the darkened street carefully.

She's toying with a gold ring in one hand, and her lips are pursed and she seems to consider something or perhaps someone. A camera sits on the bench seat beside her.

*

Well, this has been an unexpected twist to her evening. But not an unwelcome one. Yuliya's a friend. You don't say no to helping a friend. Never having done anything remotely like this before, Amber's wisely decided, or more likely told flat-out to leave her beloved Stetson at home. Not having a wig, she's simply tucked her hair up under a somewhat disreputable looking baseball cap with the name of some long-defunct auto parts company.
"Okay, so…now what?", she asks curiously, watching Yuliya fiddle with her ring.

*

No doubt Yuliya has done things like this before, as she's rather calm about the entire thing. Without saying a word, she turns and offers the ring to Amber. "Okay, this is where things get stranger," she says, finally speaking. "Normally I'd do this myself, but he knows my face. I have been trying to gather information on this guy for several months, and this is where you come in." She settles back into the seat. "How good are you at acting? Because what I need you to do is walk down the street, and at the seventh garbage can along, I need you to search through it. I need bank statements, notes and anything that looks interesting."

She then offers an apologetic look. "I know, I'm asking you to rummage through a stranger's bins. The ring is in case someone asks you what you are doing, so drop it in there and tell them you had a fight with your fiance and you're looking for it."

*

"Okay…shoveled enough shit in my time, bit a' garbage ain't like to nauseate.", Amber nods soberly, taking the ring. "Eh, fiancee', right. Best ditch this, then.", she adds, pulling off her cap and running her fingers through her hair a few times. Oil-smeared baseball caps of indeterminate origins might undermine that bit of the story. "There, do I seem adequately disheveled?", she asks, starting to rub her eyes. "Red 'nuff?"

*

"I know, and I'm sorry, but I'll get you a radio or something nice" Yuliya offers to Amber again with a grin. "But if you have any problems, I'll be here to help you out of them." She takes a deep breath and then sighs for a moment as she reaches for the camera beside her, though the oil-smeared cap does get a careful look. That whole company car and potential grease thing. She glances back up towards the woman again and offers an approving nod. "Da, you look like you've been upset recently. I think you'll do fine."

*

"Ah, no need. This is actually kinda fun.", Amber grins. "Okay, and…showtime.", she says, pausing for a moment to make sure no-one's looking, then slipping out of the car into the throngs still on the street even at this hour. Quickly, she makes her way to the indicated trash can, and, quietly, starts repeating to herself. "Oh, Lord, be here, please be here…Dear Jesus, be here…" as she prizes open the bag to start rummaging through it.

*

Rummaging through gargage is certain to get Amber a few strange looks, with some giving her a wide berth, while others shake their heads or just ignore what she's doing. Thankfully the owner of the garbage bag doesn't have a baby or any animals. It's mainly empty coca-cola bottles, a few cigarette butts and assorted pieces of paper, some being reminders to call certain people or meet others at certain times. There's even a bank statement which has half missing.

Meanwhile in the car, Yuliya shifts in her seat, no doubt trying to get comfortable with the jeans that she's wearing. She's watching

*

Amber uses her knack at slight of hand to palm and discreetly pocket as much of the papers, especially the bank statement, as she can without leaving bulging pockets. With another little bit of razzle-dazzle, she drops in the ring. "Oh Glory, hallelujah!", she calls loudly, getting more than a few passing looks as she holds it aloft. "Oh baby, we ain't never gonna fight like that a'gin, I promise.", she says, placing it on the appropriate finger. "Lesson for all y'all.", she says, adressing those who might be looking. "Don't never do somethin' rash in a heat of passion. Comes back t' bite ya.", and with that, she takes her leave. But she doesn't go back to the car, she goes into the building.

*

Well a big burly suited man who might be the previous owner of the garbage bag had come of the doors and started to walk in Amber's direction, lookng a bit miffed about someone rummaging through his garbage. Though once she's puts on her act, he actually looks a bit embarrassed, and casually kept on going on his way.

The foyer is what is to be expected of an middle-upper class establishment, complete with an older woman who turns her nose up at Amber when she sees her.

*

Amber just nods politely to the older woman as she turns to read the list of tenants. "McCallister…McCallister…Yup, there we are.", she says, "Eight C.", she says, heading for the stairs.

*

The stairs look nice, made of polished mahogany wood and finished with a red carpet right down the centre of them. Though there is a stain on the second floor landing that kind of looks like a pug's face or something like that. The eighth floor looks idential to all the ones below, with doors to get into the apartments and a couple of windows to let in light during the daylight. There's also hanging lights down the hallway, too.

8C's door looks just the same as the rest of the ones on the floor, complete with peep-hole.

*

Amber isn't remotely interested in the apartment, of course, but it's a great excuse to be there. Not to mention find the nearest fire escape and shimmy down it.

*

Of course there's a fire escape! Going down it leads to an lightly grafitied alley around the back of the building, which actually leads back to the main road where Yuliya is parked. There's a couple of vagrants milling around, generally minding their own business so far.

*

Amber ignores the vagrants, in hopes that they will return the favor, and aims to make the block to approach Yuliya's car from behind. If said vagrants are willing to let her, that is.

*

They're just poor people trying to survive and go about their lives. No trouble is caused by them at all. Well, apart from one that smells of alcohol, body odour and stale cigarette smoke, who slowly stands up and unsteadily starts to follow behind Amber. "Have you got some change good lady?" he begs. "Please, miss, can I have some change?"

Yuliya's car is still there, sitting in the same place. The Russian is still there, camera in hand, too.

*

"Yes, sir.", Amber says, fishing out whatever change is in her pocket. "Get somethin t' eat, sir.", she says firmly as she hands them over. "An' find some manner a' shelter. There's churches all over can look after ya.", she adds, smiling slightly before going her way, quickly.
"So, this is what you do?", Amber asks, piliing hastily into the backseat of Yuliya's car. "Odd choice of employment, but…yeah, kinda fun.", she grins.

*

"Thanks," the vagrant mutters. He's got his money, and the advice given is most likely going to be ignored as he staggers his way out of the alley and towards the local bar.

"Only when I suspect that they're trying to bend the rules in their favour," Yuliya admits to Amber. "Usually I handle claims when it comes to buildings. Mainly fires. Snooping through people's garbage, it's more intelligence gathering and case building. That and if I do not keep up my skills, I will not be as effective." She then offers a laugh. "It's all fun and games until there's soiled clothing." She turns the ignition and the car rumbles into life. "The guy likes to burn down his properties that he rents out for easy money."

*

"Soiled clothin's somethin' of a specialty of mine, sadly.", Amber chuckles as she starts unpacking her pockets. "Um, you got any tissues? Need t' wipe my hands. That sumbitch must smoke like a forest fire.", she grumbles. "Arson investigtion? I might be good at that.", she muses.

*

Yuliya reaches across to the glove box to pull out a box of tissues, and then offers them back to Amber. "Here you go," she replies, though she does wrinkle her nose at the mention of Amber being a soiled clothes specialist. "I do not wish to know how you became specialised in that," she admits as she slowly pulls the car onto the street. "Well, when I visit, it's after the police and fire department have been through. So I get a copy of their reports, do my own little investigation. I swear it's eight-five percent paperwork, ten percent field work and five percent meetings. If I hear of any positions that open up, I will let you know."

*

Amber accept the tissues and starts wiping her hands as clean as she can with them. "Work around animals for a spell, miss.", she replies simply. "Any animals for any amount of time.", she sighs. "Yeah, lemme know. Got a particular insight as reguards to fire, ya know.", she smirks.
"Okay, what do we have here?", she says, starting to unpack her pockets. "Got a bank statement, well, half a' one, lower bit's torn off. Might have it's mate.", she begins.

*

Yuliya keeps her attention on the road, and the other vehicles. She's a spy, so she's naturally careful about getting tailed. It doesn't happen, so she continues on her merry way. "Smelly things indeed," she says in agreement. "I am joking. I like most animals." She glances up towards the rear vision mirror. "Any interesting cheques?" she asks with a raised brow.

*

"Lemme see….um….", Amber says, sifting through the pages. "No, but there's a note here…Um…'Trevor, Brooklyn, 9123.', got a big circle drawn 'round it.", she notes. "And…", more leafing, "Here's t' other half a' that statement…got a payout to a Trevor Raymount, in th' order of six hundred dollars.", she says. "Rest of this, you'll want t' look over y'self. Mean time, if there's a hot dog stand nearabouts, pull over. I'm buying."

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