[M] WHODUNNIT? -- IC

[Craze]

Rated M for Mature. Contains violence, excessive language and mildly sexual themes.

https://i.imgur.com/BgolbWH.png




october 31st
the grand marconi hotel
20:33 p.m.

It was proving to be a rather spectacular evening. A full moon was already well on its way, rising up in the blue night sky, not a single cloud in sight. It was warm, yet not as warm so that one would feel overdressed. It was chilly, but not as chilly so that one would require a coat.
Brown autumn leaves twirled down onto the cobblestone roads leading up to the Grand Marconi, the hotel's impressively tall windows beaming yellow light into the forests.

A long row of red-clad valets stood next to the hotel gates, happily taking over vehicles and parking them for their owners once they arrived. The passengers, usually wealthy families, exited the vehicles and approached the hotel's main doors, where the hotel clerk, Andrew Finch, awaited them with a charismatic grin.

"First time, eh? Well, don't worry, lass, you'll fit right in," he said to a young woman entering by herself, his R's rolling over his tongue. Evident of his Scottish origin. With a wink, he put a stamp on the woman's invite and stepped aside to let her in.

It was then that a white Chrysler B-70 rolled up to the hotel gates, its driver all too well known to the hotel staff. He was by himself; he always was. Just in front of the gates, he exited the Chrysler and heaved a large brown trunk out of the car, landing it on the road with a heavy thud. Immediately, as if a sensor had gone off, the hotel's bellboy, Jerry Marsh, hurriedly approached the man.

"Evening, mister Locke, sir," the bellboy chirped, nervously smiling.

"Evening," responded the man, turning around to reveal his unique, yet handsome features. He wore a large trench coat and fedora in a matching color, and he chewed gum. "Everything set up?"

"Oh, yes sir, mister Locke, sir," the bellboy replied, nodding vigorously, "your suite on the third floor, as always."

"Good," replied Locke in nonchalant tone, absentmindedly chewing his gum. "Go ahead and take my stuff up. I'll go on and head inside."

The bellboy nodded and heaved the trunk on his back, immediately sinking through his knees. He looked back once more at the man, forcing a smile.
Locke turned back to the row of valets, handing his car keys over to the first in line.
"Not a scratch," he demanded.

After his car drove off towards the immense parking lot, Locke approached the front door. Andrew Finch saw him coming from miles away, and was already smiling. "The heart of the party!" he exclaimed, laughing. Locke silently handed his invitation over to the clerk, who briefly skimmed through it with his eyes and then stamped it. "In ya go."

Locke stepped into the hotel, and was, for the 15th time annually, baffled by the interior. The Grand Marconi had existed for nearly a hundred years, and it was still in remarkable condition. Hand-painted murals on the walls, windows and doors lined with gold, walls painted in salmon pink and carpets of burgundy... the works.

"Detective!" sounded a voice from atop the stairs. Locke looked up, seeing none other than the hotel's manager descending. It was a rare occasion, seeing him in the lobby - he was a businessman, and involuntarily inherited the hotel, yet took care of it like it was his baby. Still, he hardly showed his face in the hotel and left most of the overseeing to be done by Andrew Finch.
And for good reason - even now, while broadly smiling, Marconi was downright creepy-looking.

"Detective," he repeated once more, now in a content whisper, as he shook Locke's hand. "Excellent to have you with us again. We need you tonight more than ever. I've had a... couple of phone calls from guests fearing the recent string of murders. I doubt they risk any danger, but... it is still comforting knowing we have the law's watchful eye with us."
Locke smiled faintly. "Well, anything I can do to help, sir."
Marconi laughed like a proud father and patted Locke on the shoulder. "How goes the investigation, by the way? Any leads?"
"Well, that is strictly confidential, sir," replied Locke, loudly chewing, "though I can say, I ain't backing down until this dog is behind bars."

After finishing up with Marconi, detective Locke hung up his coat and hat and went into the ballroom, dressed in a sharp-looking tuxedo. The bellboy Jerry could be seen in the distance, squeezing his way through the guests with a tray full of drinks.

Locke took a gander at his watch.
21:07.
He sighed.
Time to mingle.


october 31st
ballroom
23:49 PM

Detective Locke had bluffed his way through the event relatively easy, even though he drew a lot of attention towards himself - he was the only guest who was allowed to not wear a mask; in case of an emergency, it seemed inconvenient to go through a crowd of masks in order to identify the detective, and only then inform him.

Almost three hours into the night, nearing midnight, Locke found himself on the ballroom balcony with another guest. The only information he could gather was that she was a woman; her mask hid her facial features, as was custom.
The conversation droned on casually, most of it consisting of small talk, the detective chewing his gum as he stared off in the distance, when it happened:
A terrifying shriek resounded through the Grand Marconi.

Instantly, the detective drew his gun and pushed the woman aside, re-entering the ballroom. With no time to wait for the guests to clear the staircase, Locke hopped onto the railing and slid down, clumsily landing on the marble floor, knocking into Jerry Marsh as he did so. The tray of drinks flew through the air, crashing into the buffet.

Pushing the people aside, shouting he was police, Locke arrived at the center of the ballroom. His gum fell out of his mouth as he did a terrible discovery.

Lifelong attendee of the masquerade, 98-year old Baroness Danielle von Liechten, was dead.

Her body lay sprawled across the floor, a deep red wound at the center of her chest. Single fatal blow to the heart, Locke noted. He lifted his right foot, which had been standing in a puddle of the Baroness's blood.

Shit, Locke thought as his eyes remained locked on the corpse. Not only was the Baroness dead, he now had to go through every single guest at the event - anyone could be a suspect. However, a single thought of relief entered his mind; this wasn't the work of the serial killer I've been chasin'.
Doesn't fit with the MO...

"Finch!" he yelled to the clerk, whose head immediately popped up from the crowd. "Lock the doors and gates. Nobody gets out 'til I say so, you hear me?!"

After Finch hurried off towards the hotel entrance, a string of employees following after him, Locke turned around to face the crowd and silenced them with a loud yell. "I want everybody at my office... er... suite on the third floor pronto. I'm sorry, but right now, everyone's a suspect and I need to goddamn narrow down this list. The more honest you are, the sooner you can go home and the sooner this business is done with."

Easier said than done, for the line in front of Locke's suite had been endless, extending to the ballroom and even to the terrace.


november 1st
detective locke's suite
04:10 AM

Locke sighed and slouched in his seat, blowing out a large cloud of cigarette smoke. Finally, the last guest on the list. He threw the guest list away and pinched his nose bridge, his headache building. After tediously going through one aristocratic family after another, most of them hysterical and in tears, Locke had finally narrowed down the list to 9 people, excluding himself and the hotel staff.

He picked up the list and looked at the horrendously written names. (He wasn't exactly famed for his handwriting)

Teddy Roberts
Ludmila Chernova -- odd bird, better have Finch keep an eye on her
Vivian Marshall
Lance Demel -- criminal record? gotta look into it
Lukas Schiller
Cora Rodgers -- movie star of sorts. also woman i was talking to on the balcony
Bohai Jing
Jason P Anderson
Bryan Daggerty

Not taking the hotel employees into account, but definitely keeping them in the back of his head, Locke put the list down and exited his suite, descending back into the lobby.

All the remaining guests were gathered there, including the six head honchos of the hotel staff.

"Right," said Locke as he stood in front of the small crowd, as if he was addressing a poorly recruited military force. He took a gum from his pack and slid it in his mouth, chewing audibly. "From now on, no one leaves the hotel. Finch has given the key to me and I'm not lettin' anyone out until I find out who killed the Baroness. I don't care if you've got a sick dog, dyin' uncle or pregnant wife at home, no one leaves. That, for the record, includes me. There's suites on the second and third floor that have been prepared for you, should you wish to take some rest. Do note that I will be keepin' an eye on everyone, and so will the staff. Your cooperation in this investigation is much appreciated, 'cuz I don't want to sit around 'till Christmas either."

With a satisfied click of his tongue, detective Locke nodded his head and crossed his arms. "Oh, by the way," he then said, lifting a finger, "to the killer, I say this: know that I will find you and that I will bring you to justice. You may keep quiet for as long as you like, but I'm playin' the long game here."

And with that, the masquerade had turned into a crime scene, and the guests had become suspects.

Only one question remained...

Whodunnit?

[Lady Celeste]

As that terrible shriek resounded, time seemed to stand still. A line of clients had been waiting just outside Madame Chernova's booth at the time, but the line quickly dispersed as they all rushed to see what was going on. The Madame herself followed suit, giving little thought to the people crowding around her. Absentmindedly, her eyes wandered to the first clock she saw.

And there it was.
Just as the spirits had warned.

Her pace slowed to a quick but steady walk, facing directly forward all the while. The policeman was already pushing his way through the crowds, while Ludmila slowly wove her way through, arriving a slight distance away from the bloody sight shortly after the policeman caught sight of it.

The old woman on the floor still had her mask on, but Ludmila recognized the mask and costume just the same. She did not move in the slightest, her eyes fixated on the body and her breath exhaling in ragged wisps. Seconds later she began to shudder slightly, muttering in Russian all the while.

"Evil is here..." She whispered quickly, barely even noticing anyone else. "Still here... Still in this place..."

For obvious reasons, the Madame's whispered raving only added to the panic in the ballroom, with some guests wailing in horror and begging to be let out of the hotel while others loudly berated Ludmila for scaring the guests, until the staff arrived in short order to prevent a possible riot and usher Ludmila away from the scene.


Hours later, after the initial interviews had concluded and the policeman made it clear that no one would be allowed to leave the hotel, Ludmila stayed a short ways away from the policeman and warily looked at the other guests, waiting until she was sure none of them were looking at her before she proceeded to speak to the policeman.

"Evil is in this place..." She said, vaguely repeating the first thing she'd said upon seeing the body. "If we cannot escape it, then we must fight it. What would you ask?"

[Mystress of Shadows]

The brisk night air had been perfect for a light chat, and her companion seemed to agree. Cora smiled towards the man as she continued the conversation.

"You see, I've had a lot of fine dining in my lifetime, but the appetizers they serve at this event are always pleasing." It was a mundane conversation, perhaps, but enjoyable nonetheless.

Suddenly, a piercing scream rang out. Cora hurried to see what had happened, but before she had even reached the door, the gentleman she had been speaking to shoved her aside. It had not been enough force to knock someone down, but lo and behold, the oh-so-graceful actress lacked all grace in this moment. Her heels caused her to lose her balance and down she went. Sprawled on the ground, Cora temporarily forgot all about the scream. Only one thought took precedence in her mind.

Rude.

She climbed to her feet in an attempt to regain her composure and strode through the balcony door with a plan to confront the man for his actions. However, upon reaching the railing for the stairs, she froze. On the floor amongst the sea of people was a splattering of red, and amongst the red, there seemed to be a body. Although she could not see it clearly, Cora was more than capable of putting two and two together.

Someone was lying dead on the floor.

Someone was dead.

Someone was dead.

Cora turned ghastly white at the realization, her voice catching, fear curdling in her gut and throat.


By the time the interrogations had finished, Cora had removed her mask. It was obvious that she had been crying, mainly due to the stress of the situation, but now, she merely felt numb. Too exhausted to do much, but too worried to rest. Stuck in that perpetual state, she seemed to float from place to place as though looking for something to keep her mind from wandering too far.

[Mariel]

The evening was passing by as seamlessly as ever; no commotions or accidents occurring, the gentle hum of the attendees providing a pleasant back drop of sound. It was growing late, and Lukas was returning to his room after finishing his last dance with the Baroness, Danielle.

Over the past four years, the two had grown close to one another. She was an intellect like him, her conversations so deep and intriguing— she really was a breath of fresh air. Despite the regal status most of the attendees held, very few cared to really dive into the depths of imagination with Lukas, and none could do it better than the Baroness herself.

The time they spent together was always a pleasure, and the swift moving dance they had shared as the night waned on was no different. While Danielle may have been nearing a century, she never let age impede her from interacting with the world. A bright smile brought a charming glow to Lukas' masked face as he walked down a hall leading away from the ballroom. The Masquerade had thus far been a peaceful evening, and his and the Baroness' last dance was the perfect way to end such a night.

But that dreamlike evening was quickly torn away, sending Lukas crashing back to reality as a horrified shriek resounded throughout the corridor.

Lukas ran back to the ballroom where the gut wrenching sound came from, and the glowing smile promptly dropped from his face. The once lively woman he had grown to love was lying in a growing pool of her own blood. Lukas ripped the mask from his face and instinctively ran over to crouch beside the Baroness' limp body. He pressed his fingers against the side of her throat, desperately seeking the lively rhythm of her heart that he had danced to not even five minutes ago.

It was gone, and a cacophony of terrified voices took its place.



It was past just four in the morning before the detective finished interrogating all of the guests. After he was finished addressing the lot of attendees, letting them know that no one would be leaving until this murder was solved, Lukas sulked off to the nearest bathroom. Apparently as he was checking the Baroness' pulse, he inadvertently placed his hand holding his mask in the pool of blood to stabilize himself. The shirt cuff on his right arm was stained with blood, and the once black and white mask was now black and red.

Upon entering the bathroom, Lukas slung the mask in the nearest trash can before leaning against the sink and gazing into his mirrored reflection. While Lukas never kept himself in the slickest style, preferring to look slightly... rougher— he looked like absolute trash at this point. He sighed audibly, tilting his head down and closing his eyes to regain what composure he could, before proceeding to scrub the dried blood from his skin.

[XanesFox]

The night was still young when Vivian had arrived from the nearby airport. The flight had truly been awful with all the turbulence the mid-autumn sky brought. Needless to say, the young lass had bought a couple of glasses of French 75 on the way over to calm her nerves from the flight over. She wasn't quite half-seas over to begin her night with. Vivian was not a woman known to have a low alcohol tolerance level.

Once at the Grand Marconi Hotel, Vivian had shuffled out of her limousine with two suitcases and her purse. She had packed one bag full of necessary things a woman might need. The other, a bag full of illegal drinks back in the United States. As a speakeasy server in Chicago, her sales did not stop at The Drifter. No, her boss was counting on her to find more customers and suppliers for their business back on US soil.

"Good Evening Mr. Marsh. Would you please escort my bags to my room C-27? I'll be up momentarily to get ready for the night's events." She gave an award-winning charismatic smile to the bell boy and watched him leave with her bags in tow. Tonight she was to relax and enjoy herself. For tomorrow the business begins.

Going inside to the main foyer Vivian had seen an old flame of hers. Being oh so bitter about seeing the man easily flirt with the women that came in, she had turned to the elevator as to not engage in an actual conversation with the fellow. "He doesn't even know he's doing it. Cheeky cake-eater." She sighed to herself as the ride up the elevator commenced.

Around two hours later, Vivian was finally ready for the ball to be. Dressed in a two-piece midnight purple corset and floor-length dress. (https://d2fzf9bbqh0om5.cloudfront.net/images/414215/search/rebelsmarket_purple_and_black_steampunk_style_goth ic_corset_long_prom_dress__dresses_4.jpg?148280786 3) Her jet black hair done up in a ponytail (https://i1.wp.com/therighthairstyles.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/16-cascading-curly-ponytail.jpg?resize=1026%2C1026&ssl=1)with loose curls flowing from behind. After doing her make-up and securing her purple mask (https://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51xZcPf4QQL.jpg) to her head the young adult headed to the dance hall.

During her time in the ball room, of course Vivian was already indulging herself with hard liquor and speaking to this younger handsome gentalman known as Lance. As the two had hit it off and Vivian's drunken mind set had her flirting with the bad boy heavily. Hell She even offered to go some where quiet for the time being. Off to a secluded small room down the hall.

During their short time there was an ear pircing scream coming from down the hall. THe two had exchanged a look of complete shock and bolted to the scene of the crime. From the back of the room Vivian couldn't tell who exactly was laying on the ground but the masses of voices had spread that the baroness had been slain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was about 4:15 when The young wiccan girl had made it back to her room to reflect on the events that just occured. She sat in the dark way too long before getting up and making her way down to the front desk where her old flame resides at all hours of the day. Her pale cheeks were stained satin with twin rivers cascading from them. "May I talk to you?" She asked the man taking off her mask gently and throwing it to the ground.

[Price]

Well shit. The old dinosaur had to go sooner or later, but murder? The ole dame was ninety-eight. What, the killer couldn't wait a few days for her to croak naturally? Even as other guests shrieked and fainted in horror at the sight of a bloodied dead body, all Bryan could do was tisk. Perhaps he should have been more disturbed, or at least acted more disturbed, but frankly the scene was a bit messy. With a kill like that, it was more of a wonder that Danielle's killer hadn't left a trail of bloody footprints in their wake. If he didn't notice at the time, he'd find the irony later that his mask was the same shade of red as the sticky blood decorating the fancy flooring. The mask and the face that wore it would slink back deeper into the crowd, as he had been lucky or not-so-lucky, to have been in the front of the thick crowd of disturbed party goers, just a few inches from the baroness. 'Huh, so that wasn't wax on he floor making my shoes sticky...' He had to stop himself from asking for a towelette, lest he be the prime suspect, but God...he was walking on a bit of Danielle. 'Nasty...'

Any sort of empathy would have been appropriate once the surprise wore off. For that matter, any emotion at all from Mr. Daggerty would have been a welcome change. Instead he was rather callous about the whole situation, which was sure to rub the detective the wrong way. He was sure that was the reason he had been forced to remain at the hotel as other guests were cleared to leave. Or else, perhaps it was his background? He had killed quite a few Germans during his service just over ten years ago; but that was different, that was war. Besides, he was almost insulted that the detective believed that he could be responsible for a killing so poorly executed. He preferred his kills neat, quiet and clean if he could help it. That was one of the reasons he had such a high body count during the war. The quieter the kill, the less likely that the victim's buddies would come around as backup. Strangulation with some wire was one of his favorite tricks. It sure beat the hell out of firing from the trenches, spraying and praying with guns far more liable to jam than fire where they were aimed. Perhaps the detective hadn't been so understanding about the bloody soles of Bryan's shoes after all, though the steel-worker was pretty sure that the detective had stepped in the blood as well. It could have been any number of things, but the truth was the same. He was a suspect, a damned murder suspect.

The sad bit of irony in all of this was that he never actually wanted to attend this party to begin with. He had work that he could be doing, always work. There was nothing more unproductive than partying it up with rich people. He had been invited to this annual event three times, and he would have rejected this third invitation if not for his friend and boss. The man was as stubborn as Bryan, and since he learned Bryan intended to start his own company, he practically ordered Bryan to schmooze and rub shoulders with the upper-class. The hidden identity masquerade theme was going to screw that idea up from the start, but Bryan was not about to tell that to his former C. O. Now he wished that he had. This event had turned out to be much more sinister than an annoying inconvenience.
-------

With his hand tucked in his pockets, mask long since discarded, he listened to the detective drone on and on before finally shutting his trap. This one really fancied himself a big shot, didn't he? The small town, southern authorities always acted tough. The way Bryan figured it, this was just another detective who'd scene too many movies. Now the guy wanted to play hero. Locking the whole place down, interrogating everybody one at a time, and now making some big speech. All Bryan could do was roll his eyes with an exasperated sigh. Still, there was something rather interesting to this whole thing. Was the baroness the only target? Why was she a target at all? If theft was the killer's main goal, she'd opened her doors to be looted without much attention. After all, who would see someone take some small treasures in a crowd of this size? Then again, maybe that was why she was killed. Maybe she saw something she wasn't supposed to...or maybe the killer was after something else and was still at large?

Okay, he had to admit that there was a bit of excitement to this mystery solving business. He could see how someone like the detective could get into this stuff. All the same, it was going to be a long night and he was going to need a smoke break. He began walking out toward a balcony overlooking the floor, intent on smoking that cigar when he spotted her. Coraline Rodgers, big time Hollywood actress, star in several of his favorite movies. He passed her, their eyes connecting for but a moment. He flashed her a knowing smile, never breaking his gait.

[BumblingBee]

Oh hardy hah hah. A beggars mask. How bloody original.

Teddy simple stared at Milly, with a look that can only be described as intense loathing. Yet she worked the damned thing all the same. Rules are rules... I guess. Her disgustingly ostentatious gaggle of (apparent) girlfriends were stood tittering and giggling whenever anyone (and I mean ANYONE) of the opposite sex merely looked in their direction. While Teddy on the other hand, stood solitary and as apart from them as she could manage in the crowds.

Surprisingly, she managed to set herself a new record that evening though. For she managed to stick with them for a whole three minutes instead of the usual two! quite a feat honestly. The beckon of the bar called to her soon enough however, and Teddy decided to make a beeline for that most sacred of places. In truth they all sounded the same to her, but who she guessed was Penny called out to her,

"I say, I say there, Teddy!! Off to find one of those burly working boys to quench your needs?!"

A horrific clamouring of titillated giggles and girlish giddiness echoed from behind her. Teddy didn't even look back when she replied,

"No. I'm just off to get absolutely shitfaced, so don't you mind me."

She was rather proud to say that the maddening enthusiasm stopped firmly short there.

Teddy continued to spend the remainder of the evening by the bar. She spoke to few, and refused many that offered her. To her, the sooner this blasted thing was done the better. I mean, good god was it all tediously inane, boring as sin too honestly. You would have thought with all the cash they had to freely spend, the upper classes would know how to have a good time. But nope. Meaningless mingling and dulling dolts were once again the favoured catch of the day.

If only something actually interesting would happen.



Well then. Not quite what she'd have picked exactly, but intriguing none the less.

And you know what, if she was being quite honest, her evening had considerably cheered up since the old coot had bit the dust.

Being a possible suspect in a murder investigation had put her friends quite off the idea of keeping her as a dancing monkey. Plus, seeing such esteemed members of the gentry so utterly and completely hysterical was rather entertaining too.

The detective seemed like a pretty smart lad, interesting to talk to as well. 'Enjoyed' probably wasn't the right word to use with regards to her thoughts she'd felt during her questioning. But she certainly hadn't despised it either. All in all, she found the whole affair pretty darned fascinating. She'd never really been a murder suspect before you see.

Overall, she'd had far worse evenings.

As she'd been the first of the detectives suspects to be questioned, she'd been waiting for some time while the other guests revealed what they did and didn't know. She sat in the hallway, flicking through a small rather worn copy of Jane Eyre (ironically), but she couldn't bring herself to pay that much attention to it. In fact, somewhat sub-consciously, she'd began to sketch small rough profiles of all the guests she'd seen been invited into the detectives quarters. Although she couldn't quote get the fortune tellers nose right...

It was this moment Detective Locke finally decided to emerge.

Goodness. This one certainly had a side for the dramatic.

With a shrug, she snapped her book closed. Question was, what to do now then? The others around her seemed similarly puzzled. Should they introduce themselves? Retreat tamely to their rooms?

The heirs and social graces of the aristocracy had been stripped bare from most of the suspects. An ungoverned and uncharted plain of communication stood barren before them, and it seemed Teddy was the only one who was even a little at ease with it.

That sensitive caring part of her soul, the bit she begrudgingly allowed to keep existing, tugged at her inner conscience. A need to do something considerate arose within her. But a determined sense of lower class pride still managed to make itself known, even in a situation such as this. So teddy turned to the bellboy, a kind yet reserved smile on her face,

"Suppose this wasn't on the job description then. Is there anything I can out with at all? Can't imagine things are running all that smoothly downstairs..."

[The Texan Queen]

20:55 PM
Arriving at The Grand Marconi Hotel

A thick cloud of smoke came rolling out of the limousine as the valet held the door open, wafting the puff of smoke away from his face. Out stepped a young man dressed in an all black suit, his blonde hair slicked back in an attempt to manage it and a blunt sticking out of his mouth. He stood by the door for a few seconds, taking a few deep drags before exhaling smoke into the valet’s face. The blonde haired man could tell it irritated the car hop tremendously and the fact that he couldn’t smart off to him was bothering the boy even more.

“Lance!” A shrill, high pitched voice pierced through the silent tension between the two young men and they both snapped their heads in the direction of the voice. A tall, thin, blonde woman dressed in red was storming towards the two of them with a scowl etched into her face.

“Oh, hey mom,” The blonde answered casually as he continued to smoke.

“You’re late,” She snapped and reached for the illegal substance her son was holding, but he jerked his hand up and away so it was just out of her reach.

“I know. I, uh, got caught up with some friends.” He took another drag and thought about blowing the smoke in his mother’s direction but thought it was best not to rile her up anymore, so he sent the smoke back towards the valet.

“Give. Me. That.” His mother snatched the blunt from his fingers and tossed it on the ground, stamping it out with her black heels. “Spray on some cologne, get your mask and get your happy ass up to that party. Now.” She didn’t wait for her son to fire back a smart ass comment, she turned on her heels and rushed off to the hotel entrance.

Lance chuckled as he watched his mother stomp her way back to the party, annoying her was his favorite hobby. He turned back to the limo and reached inside for some cologne to appease his mother with even though he knew the smell wouldn’t be so easily masked. He also grabbed a couple more party favors and stowed them away inside his jacket pocket for later.

“I don’t have any cash on me, but…” Lance reached inside his jacket and pulled out another blunt and handed it to the valet. “You look like you could use this,” he laughed and gave the boy a pat on the back before heading up to the hotel entrance himself.


22:00 PM
The Terrace

Lance had been in engaging in quite the interesting conversation with another masked guest at the party. He flagged down a waiter and ordered the both of them another whiskey on the rocks since both of their drinks had gotten low throughout their conversation.

“Sounds like you’re going to be set after that though,” Lance said and reached for some appetizers from the table behind them. “My family is obnoxiously rich, but I still wouldn’t turn down that kind of money…” He said through bites of food and shrugged his shoulders, “Too bad she’s being a bitch about it.”

“You know what?” He chuckled and turned back around to the table and scanned it, for what he wasn’t sure. His eyes landed on a knife left behind by the food crew and quickly grabbed it and handed it off to the man across from him, “Fuck it, take care of her,” he laughed jokingly with the masked man.

“I’m gonna go find a place to smoke, I’ll catch you later.”


23:49 PM
The Broom Closet

Lance pulled the door closed to the broom closet as he shook of his sport coat. He wrapped his arms around the dark haired girl he had been shameless flirting with earlier on and pushed her back against the wall.

Things were just heating up between the two of them and he was just about to unzip the back of her dress when a loud scream startled the two of them. Lance figured it was just some little housewife overreacting to a spilt glass of rose so he went back in to kiss her, but she was already pushing passed him to go investigate.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” He groaned and shoved his hands in his pants to adjust himself to hide the evidence of what almost was. Snatching his sport coat off the closet floor he walked out after the dark haired woman to see what happened. Someone better have died or I’m going to pissed.


04:15 AM
Hotel Entrance

Lance stood by the entrance of the hotel with his godfather, Raoul Marconi, the two of them in a heated conversation. “He can’t fucking keep us here. Doesn’t he need a warrant? I’ve already told him I was getting blue balled in the damn broom closet with some chick when it happened,” He spat and looked off in the direction of the detective.

[Rayfire]

Mingling with the rich and powerful has become a regular occurrence for Jason. While he wasn't fond of it he still had appearances to keep. Many recognized him by his favorite style of masks which always featured a sense of ying and yang and his friendly demeanor however with the recent rumors of his drug addiction Jason's usual charming and outgoing personality seemed subdued. He kept his mingling to a minimum which was highly noticeable since he usually always made a point to chat with everyone. This time around he didn't talk much and seemed to be people watching. Even after everyone found the dead Baroness he kept to himself. He tactfully answered all the detectives questions with the rest of them but his nerves was visibly a wreck and he wanted to escape their temporary jail more then anyone. "Please work dutifully and get your man detective so we can go home to our beds"

With that said he floated away from the group and hovered around the balcony. He had seen actress Coraline many times yet didn't know exactly how to approach the beautiful lady in this situation. So he regulated himself to watching from a short distance.

[Mystress of Shadows]

As Cora was floating around the ballroom in her daze, her eyes met with a familiar face. Bryan - or rather, Mr. Daggerty as she would like to call him in this moment. She felt her heart flitter for but a moment, but not out of attraction. He had smiled knowingly at her. That alone filled her with a nervous energy. She quickly diverted her eyes, praying he would not stop her.

Of all times, now is the last time I want to be seen with him, she thought. Especially in a scene like this.

For anyone watching her, the discomfort showed plain as day. A darting glance trying to find something else to distract her. Pursed lips as she switched direction ever so slightly to move away from the balcony. A hand paying with one of the beads on her necklace.

To make things more complicated for her, Cora hadn't expected him to be at the party. She'd been going to the party for years, and not once had she seen him. She would have been the first to recognize him, mask or no mask, and he most certainly hadn't been in the crowd last year, or the year before. She would know. She spoke to every person at least in passing every year. That is, every year before this one as the death of the baroness occurred before she could. If she had known he was here, she could have easily avoided him and kept her composure. Actually, she may not have needed to avoid him as much with their masks, but now, everyone could see who everyone was. Someone like herself, a famous movie actress with growing popularity, had an image to keep the moment anyone knew who she was. Cora had learned that the hard way, and the last thing she needed was another embellishment on her already "dirty" record.

As Cora began to make her way across the floor and away from Mr. Daggerty, she could only hope no one would notice and that Mr. Daggerty would keep his distance, at least for now.

[Craze]

Jerry Marsh jumped - he was clearly on edge. He turned to face her, nervously chuckling, evidently scared. "M-Mister Marconi is pretty pissed," he confessed, pressing his lips together. "Bad things have happened here, but never this bad." he chuckled again, but then seemed to reflect on his words. His eyes went out of focus as he thought of the Baroness' body, which had been only inches away from his feet before.

He quickly restored himself, continuing to clean up the lobby. A lot of people had stormed out of the hotel after they were allowed too, leaving behind their masks on the floor. The bellboy already had a handful of them in his arms. "But I can't be of any help to you," he confessed, "I've already had my fair share of interrogation, if you don't mind my saying so." his eyes were still aimed at the floor, focused on the masks. "You should talk to someone with a higher standing, they'll know what to do. I'm not trained for this."

Detective Locke stood only a few feet away, a cigarette in his mouth, pondering if he would go out for a smoke or not.

Yikes...

She sure as hell wasn't gonna go and try that again. Least not anytime soon. She'd give it a day or so before attempting that blasted compassion thing again.

Soon enough, and as per the usual, Teddy found herself left alone and somewhat abandoned by her peers. Even all the masks had been taken... except hers of course. The beggars mask sat squashed and bent upon the floor. She frowned at the blasted thing. Teddy was used to being on her own, and sometimes she enjoyed the sensation. However, after such a event, solitude was an admittedly uneasy feeling.

So it relieved her a little when she spotted the detective lingering nearby. And the look on his face was one she knew all too well. With a knowing smile, she sauntered over to the man, the mask kicked aside as she walked. With a practised gesture, she produced a tatty looking matchbox and waved it in front of him temptingly.

She spoke with a sing-song childish like tease,
"Go on, you know you want tooo,"

The detective's eyes glanced sideways at her, the right side of his lip curling up slightly. "Thanks, ma'am," he said, taking a the pack as he went to stand in the archway of the front door. He lit the cigarette and took a drag, inhaling before removing the cigarette and producing a lengthy blow of smoke.

He gave the pack back to the woman, adding a nod. "You a smoker?" he then asked, taking another drag from the cigarette. Something about the question didn't make it seem genuine, as if he didn't really care. Perhaps it was the dull look in his eyes, or perhaps it was just a side effect of having questioned millions of people in the span of one night.

The detective did look a tad more disheveled than at first - his tuxedo jacket he had left behind in his 'office', revealing a wrinkled white shirt topped with black suspenders. On one of the suspenders hung a gun holster, a silver revolver shining inside. He had undone the top two buttons of his shirt.

She smiled, almost childishly when he spoke. For Teddy rather secretly delighted in the American accent and all it's glory. It seemed as most Americans either questioned and/or looked down upon her Northern cadence, Teddy repeated the action towards them. But of course, with a lot less intentional malice. She was of course far better than that... most of the time anyway.

He must have read her mind or something, as she was instinctively reaching for her own supply when the detective asked if she smoked also. She wiggled her packet at him in response. The girl sighed, almost forlornly,

"When you come where I come from, you're practically smoking from birth with all the bloody smog hangin' around the place."

Intriguingly, Teddy didn't smoke like most fashionable ladies of the time did. Most girls would elegantly puff and huff with singular swipes of long elegant fingers. But not our bird Teddy, oh no. She held onto that thing like it was the last cigarette she'd ever touch again, and she dragged like her bloody life depended on it. Seemingly aware of her rather un-graceful habits, Teddy joked with the man,

"If I was born smoking anyway, I figured I may as well upgrade it to a more sophisticated style."

Fatigue was beginning to take it's toll, on the both of them it would seem. Through her exterior joking, dare I say positive, attitude, rest and a desire to be far away from this blasted hotel started to call her name. But that darned sense of curiosity spurred her on still. She couldn't help her eyes from wandering, and a daunting question lingered in her mind.

Far quieter than before, a soft voice dared to ask,

"Do you think you'll have to use that..."

She merely motioned to the weapon with her head.

The detective looked up, a sense of intrigue over him. He looked down and pondered, taking yet another drag from his cigarette which was burning up quickly. "I sure hope not, ma'am," he finally said, looking up with a sincere scowl, "I think one corpse is enough for the night, don't you agree?" he smiled, as if he knew she would. She had to.

By now, he was considering whether she was genuinely approaching the detective for small talk, or if she was talking to him to make herself seem less like a suspect. Either way, it only made her seem more like a suspect.

Come now, he almost audibly scoffed at himself, this one's as innocent as a nun on Sunday.

But he still couldn't be certain. Whatever she was aiming at, for now, the best cause of action was just to proceed.

Teddy of course smiled, and nodded at him.

"I can't argue that."

Then, out of nowhere, she started to giggle. A old biddy had just been ruthlessly murdered, and here she was, tittering with childish enthusiasm. She looked to him, grinning like a giddy schoolgirl,

"I can't help it anymore, I've got to tell you."

Teddy turned and faced Locke fully.

"It's the way you say it, the way all of you say it,"

She paused, seemingly for effect.

"Ma'am. Ma'am! Like it rhymes with ham or something!"

It seemed exhausted delusion was finally taking over in force.

Locke squinted at the woman, his mouth agape with disbelief. "You think now's a good time to be crackin' jokes, ma'am?"

Ma'am.

As he said it, thinking on Teddy's words, he couldn't help but break into a chuckle. His southern drawl had always bothered him slightly when he analyzed it, but it didn't seem like something he could just shake off.

"Fine, I'll let that one slip," he then said, still scoffing from laughter, "but one more like that and I'm afraid I'll have to arrest ya for distractin' an officer on duty." he was only half joking - he really did start to wonder what she was distracting him for. He took a drag from the cigarette, throwing the butt onto the floor.

"What's your name again?" he asked, "Rogers? Roberts? Summin' with an R."

Still chuckling to herself a little, she todded.

"Aye, it's Roberts. Teddy Roberts."

She wondered if she should take offence that he'd forgotten. But the girl reminded herself that a) she was in no way high and mighty enough to claim recognition from anyone that wasn't family at least, and b) the poor sod had just questioned a dozen or so wealthy twats, so she decided to just leave the matter be.

The detective snorted, spitting out a muster of saliva onto the pavement just outside the hotel. Not only was it something he regularly had to do while or after smoking, it had also been a habit from his past days working on ranches and herding cows. It had stuck with him ever since.

Oblivious to the fact the woman may have been disgusted by it, he pocketed one hand and wandered back into the hotel.
But the detective could never put his thoughts at ease, and he just had to ask. He spun around again, stopping in his tracks, one hand behind his head.

"Look, uh... miss," he now deliberately avoided the word 'ma'am', "I'll be honest with ya. Normally at an event like this I'd be more than happy with your company, but ya gotta admit this ain't no time for small talk. A woman's dead, for chrissakes. So before I get to my duties, I really must ask - why this conversation? Just wastin' time?"

... I mean, I guess she'd seen worse.

But luckily he'd asked her a question which distracted from the... 'interesting' ejection the detective had kindly let her bare witness too.

She sighed, dawdling on in after him slowly. She pondered upon her thoughts as well as her steps. It didn't take her too long to think up of an answer though, and she looked at Locke, dead in the eyes.

"I'm thousands of miles from my home. I'm surrounded by people that either hate me, or simply keep me around for a laugh. And I'm completely on my own when there's a murderer on the loose. For christs sake, even the bellboy didn't want to talk to me. So I saw you, and hoped for a like mind that I could at least try and talk calmly with."

"Well, Jerry ain't so bad," the detective replied, shrugging. "He was probably just scared is all."

She was quiet for a moment, thinking again. Her words almost came out reluctantly.

"I was scared, and you were the only one who I thought could help for a moment."

Locke had to think on this. It rarely happened that people actually approached him - he had a way of making people turn on him just by being in their presence. "Well, that's what I'm here for, ma'am," he said, trying to keep professional.

Teddy just gave a short, blunt nod.

"Yeah... well. Thanks,"

She straightened herself up and coughed slightly.

"I need to make a call then collapse into my bed, and I honestly recommend you do the same as well."

She frowned softly to herself,

"Your bed though, not mine."

And with that wonderfully awkward finishing statement done and said, Teddy gave a final sigh and made a bee-line for the phone booths.




Day One
november 1st
the grand marconi hotel
10:41 a.m.

After a night - or rather, morning - of good sleep, Detective Locke had been the first to wake up for a morning smoke. The Hotel staff were already up and running, rushing around the Hotel like nothing had occurred the night before. But the body of the baroness was still very much present; in fact, a black car had pulled up early in the morning, and two men were in the process of 'escorting' the baroness into the vehicle.

She wasn't the only one who left the mansion, though.

They were one guest short - a certain businessman name of Bohai Jing, who had engaged in a long conversation with Detective Locke around 5 AM. Convinced of the man's innocence, the detective had pardoned him and allowed the man to leave the premises.

He hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

It seemed to have rained in the morning. The trees were leaking with dew and there were puddles all around the Hotel, the orange morning light glinting off them. Locke's mouth curled up slightly - his favorite weather.

Cigarette in mouth, he leaned on the balcony overlooking the Hotel gardens and took a long drag.

It was going to be a long day.

[The Texan Queen]

Day One.
Lance’s Hotel Room.
10:41 AM

After a few minutes of fighting being forced to stay in the hotel for the night Lance decided to turn it around and have some fun. He invited some of the girls that worked at the hotel, and a few of the cooler guys, to his room for some drugs and drinking. Flashes of strip poker, shots, and a hazy room filled his head as he stood under the hot water in his shower.

Lance stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and an unlit cigarette in his mouth. He searched the room for a lighter, checking under a bra and over turned couch cushions until he found a lighter. Man, the cleaning crew is gonna have a fit when they see this place. Lance lit his cigarette and took a long drag as he looked around the trashed room, empty bottles, cigarette butts, articles of clothing, wrecked furniture and more littered the hotel room. They all had one hell of a night and he thankfully wasn’t feel the aftermath, he didn’t get hangovers so he planned to abuse that power until it ran out.

“Hey, darlin,” Lance said through puff of smoke and patted what he assumed was an ass through the covers. “You’re late for your morning shift.” The girl popped up from under the covers like something bit her and she started to scramble for her clothes. Lance plopped back on the bed and placed his hands behind his head and watched the naked girl bounce around the room.

“Lookin for this?” He chuckled and held up a black lacy bra. The girl snatched the bra from his hands and gave him a dirty look. She was dressed within seconds and storming out of his room before he could leave her with a smart ass comment.

For whatever reason Lance’s parents were able to leave the hotel and go back to their vacation home, but they were nice enough to send over some clean clothes to last him a week. They weren’t sure how long their son would be stuck there but they promised to keep supplies coming until he was released. He finished his cigarette and dressed himself in a pair of dark wash jeans, a plain white shirt and his signature leather jacket and made his way to the lobby.

“What’s a guy got to do for some breakfast?” Lance asked loudly as he hoisted himself up onto the front desk.

[Craze]

Andrew Finch stood behind the front desk, not looking up in the slightest as Lance ever-so-gracefully went to sit on the desk. Finch stood bent over a ledger, rummaging through all kinds of files. "Well, for starters, you could behave," he said, his usual cynicism followed by a charismatic smile.

It was then that sir Raoul Marconi himself came trotting down the stairs, his gaze immediately landing on Lance. "Lance!" he called out in a snarl, "get off that desk immediately. And tuck your shirt in! I'll not have you slacking about in my hotel, murder or no murder."

The hotel owner now made his way to the front desk, standing in front of Lance. An amused grin grew on Andrew Finch's face. "Mornin', boss," Finch called out, holding up a mug without looking up from the ledger. "Coffee?"

"Thank you," Marconi growled, snatching the mug from Finch's hand and downing the strong shot of coffee with a single gulp. Marconi smacked his lips, still eyeing Lance. "Well, what are you, deaf?" he then said, "get off there!"

[XanesFox]

Some time during the night Vivian had wondered endlessly through the halls of the Hotel. Her mind raced and was unable to sleep. She watched some of the staff go with Lance back to his room. She couldn't help but give a look of jealousy. Turning on her heels Vivian had wondered down the elevator and rode it up to her own floor. Once back to her own room she cracked open another bottle and tried to fall asleep.

Around eleven in the morning is when Vivian had woken back up. This time to a loud pounding in her head. "Gah... hangovers..." Viv gotten out of bed in search for her suitcase. Which was tucked under the bed. Grabbing a bottle of what could be Ibuprofen, she took two in high hopes that itd help. After a bit Vivian decided its time to get dressed for the day and out of her night clothes. Once done with her daily morning routine the girl finally emerged from her room.

Clad in a black frilly tank top, midnight purple floor length skirt, She makes her way down to the ritzy lobby once again. Whom she sees conversing with each other sets a pink tint in Viv's otherwise fair complexion. "Gotta face the demons head on one way or another." She thought and strode over just as the hotel manager rose his voice. "Morning Gentlemen." Vivian said with a wave of the hand. "I hope all your nights went rather well." She eyed Lance this moment but quickly gave a smile to cover up her findings of last night of the certain young man.

[The Texan Queen]

Lance scoffed at Finch and his smart ass remark, “What’s the fun in that? Maybe if you had a little fun you be such a stuck up prick all the time.” He never did like Andrew, he was always going out of his way to be a kiss ass to Raoul and ruin is fun whenever he stayed here. He was just about to say something sarcastic to the cranky desk clerk when he heard his godfather’s booming voice.

“Someone is in a good mood this morning,” Lance smiled as he pivoted his ass around so he could look at his godfathers beautiful mug. “Hey, I wore that monkey suit last night, I aint’ tucking shit in today.” The idea of dressing like a stiff two days in a row made him cringe on the inside, he was relieved to be in jeans and leather again and wasn’t changing for anyone.

“Aw, no coffee for your favorite?” Lance said in a fake sad voice as he craned his head backwards to give Finch a smile.

“Jesus! Alright, alright already.” He slid off the front desk and landed with a loud thud on the marble floor. “You really should chill out, you’ll give yourself a heart attack one of these days if you don’t.” He clapped a ‘concerned’ hand on Raoul’s shoulder and snickered.

A sweet voice broke through the tension between the two men standing in front of the hotel. Lance peered passed his godfather to see a familiar face…was it familiar? He had to think a few moments before her name flashed across his mind, ah yes. The little tease that ran out on me in the closet. Vivian.

“Morning, Vivian, find anymore closets to play in last night?” He cocked a playful smile at her leaned up against the front desk. I wish I would’ve remembered to invite her last night, she would’ve been a lot of fun. Lance openly eyed the woman up and down before glancing back at Raoul.

“So, when is breakfast served around here?” He really was hungry and it would help the uneasiness in his stomach from last night. He hadn’t had any food since before the hot moment in the closet with Vivian and all that alcohol last night amplified just how empty his stomach was.

[BumblingBee]

Admittedly, Teddy hadn't had the best nights sleep. It seemed having a murdered on the loose can sometimes make you feel just that little bit uneasy. So she'd actually been up for quite sometime, but she'd stayed rather reclusively in her own room. Although she hadn't actually been properly introduced to the majority of the other present suspects, the girl had grasped the cut of their gib fairly quickly. None of them were really her sort from the look of things. Detective Locke was the only person she'd so far met that had somewhat of a like mind.

But to hang around a detective when you're a possible suspect in a murder investigation probably isn't the best course of action to take.

So when the beckon of a decent morning meal was simply too much for her to withstand, Teddy finally emerged from her room. 'Dishevelled' is the nicest way of describing her aesthetic on that particular morning, but in truth she honestly couldn't care less about how she looked in a scenario like this.

With lazy yawns, and tired soft steps, she slowly meandered over to the lobby. Although she had no specific plan in mind, her general goal was to try and discover the mornings breakfast arrangements. But a rather eerie sight made her come to a sudden halt.

As Teddy reached a crossroads of hallways, a rather grim procession forced her to stop. The Baronesses body was being escorted from the hotel under the accompaniment of a grim looking mortician and his cronies. Far too sleep deprived and weary to fully grasp what she was looking at, Teddy couldn't help but stare and gawk wide eyes at the grizzly parade. It was only due to a disapproving glance sent her way that she bowed her head in respect for the deceased.

Teddy only dared move on when the foreboding group was far from view. She shook her head slightly, clutched her sketchpad closer to her chest, and carried on her way.

Much to Teddys exhausted vexation, some of her fellow suspects were already milling about the place. Some of them were even already talking to each other and stuff...

Ew.

She entered the room slowly, casually listening in as she did so.

...

Oh for heavens sake.

This was worse than bloody grammar school crushes!

With a groan and a huff she leaned against the front desk (As far away from the others as she could muster), and pretending to be intensely interested in her pad.

[Price]

Day 1- Early Morning

Bryan staggered out of his room with a drunk man's limp and indigo bags under his eyes. Insomnia was a cruel mistress, and she was only further encouraged by the terrible events of the night prior. It had taken the steelworker turned businessman an hour to pull himself out of the rock of a mattress and to will his stone feet to move to the bathroom to clean up. He would have simply slept in, if not for the thought that his absence would be seen as suspicious. The hot shower did little to liven him up, but maybe a hot coffee would do the trick. It was with that thought in mind that he made his way down the hall and down to the first floor. As he emerged, he was a little surprised at the number of morning birds in the lobby. Then again, maybe they were suffering from similar problems of his own. Maybe one of these individuals was being haunted by a guilty conscience. The thought sent a shiver down his spine and further damaged his already frayed nerves. Even still, he was quite skilled at maintaining a good show of confidence.

Right then he spotted his morning entertainment. Like a lion stalking its prey, he drew to the poor damsel. He was sure that Coraline had spotted him last night, and he was even more sure that she had gone out of her way to ignore him. Was it because of the murder? Maybe...or maybe she was just embarrassed to be caught off guard. She always did strike him as a skittish sort of girl. Either way, there was no way he was going to let her off easily. She was a captive audience, quite literally. The same smirk he flashed her before made its appearance yet again. His worn down, groggy features lit up almost instantaneously. He approached her from behind before swinging around in a fluid motion so that they were face to face. His eyes locked onto hers.

"Well, well, well...I thought that was you last night. What are the chances of the two of us meeting again...here of all places? And here I thought this party was going to be a bore," The tone of his voice was playful and coy. He could have gone on and come up with all sorts of cliche quips, but nothing would be able to top the actress's priceless reaction. He even positioned himself so that if she wanted to get away from him, she was going to have to create a scene. Given the circumstances, he very much doubted that she would create such a scene.

[Mystress of Shadows]

Cora had not had such a restless night in a very long time. For hours, she tossed and turned in her bed. She could hear noise coming from different rooms in the hotel as some people decided to have a party after someone had just been murdered. She had half a mind to find who it was and scold them for their disrespect, but at the same time, she found that she did not have the courage to do so.

As such, she tossed and turned, turned and tossed, until the daylight began seeping in through the curtains and shining upon her face. She rose from the bed, exhausted, and once again took in the events from the previous day. The murder. The interrogation. Bryan. She pursed her lips, tense with the thought that she might yet again run into him. However, she spent little time on it. There was no point in worrying about it. The last thing she needed were wrinkles to ruin her carefully constructed facade.

Retrieving her purse, Cora took stock of the limited supply of makeup she had brought with her for touch-ups: a small, nearly empty foundation, brown eye shadow, black eyeliner, and a deep red lipstick meant to highlight the purple tones in her dress the night before. Not much to work with by any means, but it would have to do. Working with as much finesse she could muster from her tired body, she washed her face, applied her makeup, and donned her outfit for the day. She looked over herself over five times, ensuring the bags under her eyes were well hidden, her eyes seemed to have more life than they actually did, and her smile, though sad, would still appear as brilliant as ever. Only after all of this did she step outside her room and head towards the lobby.

Spying the number of people accumulating near the front desk, Cora made up her mind to avoid the crowd, but listen in on their conversation. She walked over to a painting on the wall, appearing to examine it, but in actuality, she was listening to the group in hopes that they'd mention where she could get some food.

In the midst of this, she suddenly found herself to face to face with none other than Bryan. No, Mr. Daggerty. He spoke, obvious not planning to let her go, and in no way being conspicuous about the fact that they knew each other beyond the party. She felt the heat rising to her cheeks as she glanced towards the crowd at the front dusk, sincerely hoping they would pay no mind to what was happening, or even notice it for that matter. "Mr. Daggerty," she said, an instant sign that she had indeed avoided him the previous night, "I'd rather prefer if you let me go." She put her hands on his chest, attempting to gently push him away without causing a scene. Indeed, the less attention she drew to herself, the better. "I've told you before," she whispered, "I'd like to avoid being seen in public with you as much as possible in case the rumors start up again." She was clearly uncomfortable, glancing between the small crowd and Mr. Daggerty almost frantically.

[Mariel]

Co-op between Mariel and Lady Celeste

Attempting to get any valuable sleep after the events prior proved to be futile for Lukas. After retiring to his room, he spent the wee hours of the morning staring at the ceiling in between his tossing and turning. Lukas managed at most two hours of broken sleep before the silent stillness of the room grew to be too much to bear.

The sound of water splattering against tile disrupted the uncomfortable silence as Lukas stepped into the shower’s cold stream. He rubbed his hands across his face and through his hair, trying to wipe away the exhaustion he felt. It helped very little, and after a few more minutes of standing in the frigid water Lukas huffed and shut the shower off.

Once dry, Lukas grabbed a wrinkled slate blue button up shirt, a pair of black pants, and light grey suspenders to dress in. The atmosphere walking down the hallway was off-putting, even more so as Lukas made it downstairs just in time to see the Baroness’ body escorted outside and then away from the hotel. A chill crept down his spine while his eyes tracked the car containing his flame’s corpse, a longing frown forming on his face as he leaned his shoulder against the window frame.

“She held a place in your heart, did she not?” Asked a thickly accented voice not far behind Lukas.

Madame Chernova - now Ludmila, since she was no longer here in any professional capacity - had watched as the mortal remains of the Baroness were taken away, presumably to a morgue where a proper autopsy could take place prior to her burial. Idly shuffling a deck of cards in her hand, Ludmila intently studied Lukas, having developed a habit of closely watching the people around her in this hotel. There was evil in this place. It had taken the Baroness, and until it was exposed and defeated, none of them were safe.

A vaguely familiar voice spoke up behind Lukas, startling him slightly. He glanced over his shoulder to see Madame Chernova standing behind him, shuffling cards as her eyes stared him down. While they had not exchanged words before, Lukas recognized her thick accent from passing by the booth she worked. She was intriguing, very odd, but intriguing nonetheless.

“Indeed. I suppose I’ve not tried hard to hide that.” Lukas’ frown turned up slightly into a small smile as his body shifted to face Ludmila. “I’m Lukas Schiller.” He introduced himself to her with a curt nod, extending his hand in friendly nature.

“A pleasure, Mr. Schiller.” Ludmila replied, politely shaking his hand even as the gears in her mind steadily began to turn. “I am Ludmila Chernova, at your service should you need it.”

Her gaze settled on the man for a moment, studying him and contemplating what to say next. Evil lurked in this place, and no one could be fully trusted just yet, but perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to at least share some of what she knew, even if it was no less than what she had told the detective during their interview.

“She asked me to read the cards for her, before it happened. The cards foresaw her passing, but they told more that I do not yet understand.” Ludmila began to explain. “Who else was there before you, that loved her so?”

Lukas released Ludmila’s grasp and tucked his hands into his pockets. He could feel her gaze settling across him, a silence building as they gazed at one another. It only made sense that the remaining attendees would question who they could trust after the bold attack last night, but such a level of uncertainty in addressing anyone would make staying in the hotel that much more miserable.

The reason Lukas only passed by Ludmila’s booth the night before instead of having his cards read was because he never gave much weight to spiritual entities. An eyebrow raised slightly when Ludmila stated the cards had predicted the Baroness would pass away. She has not mentioned this to him the previous night, perhaps out of worry or maybe her own doubts about things of spiritual nature.

“I’m certain there were others,” Lukas began, his gaze shifting behind Ludmila to look around the room. “She was a lovely lady, after all. Of whom exactly, I’m unsure.” While the relationship the two kept between themselves was more than just a friendship, they did not spend much time speaking of past encounters with various loves. “It seems we always had more… meaningful things to discuss.”

“Ahh…” Ludmila nodded, listening attentively. Her eyes briefly searched the room for anyone who might be eavesdropping, and she uttered not a single word until she was absolutely satisfied that no one else was around.

“One of them is the evil one then. The cards spoke of a broken heart, but whose heart they could not say.” Ludmila said intently. “The detective, he knows of this as well, but keep this knowledge close just the same. A jealous heart that strikes one lover will not hesitate to strike the other.”

Lukas simply nodded at the information Ludmila provided. "This has been a tragedy, no doubt." His eyes shifted to the growing number of people at the front desk, studying each one. "But I trust the detective will be capable of solving this horrendous crime." Lukas' own interview with the detective had been intense, but for obvious reasons. He was open with the detective about the relationship he had with the Baroness, but that in itself, paired with the blood on his hands, did little but to place him higher on the suspect list.