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Thread: [M] WHODUNNIT? -- IC

  1. #11
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    Default Copost - Bee & Craze / Time-Skip Post

    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.


  2. #12
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    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.



  3. #13
    daddy
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    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!"


  4. #14
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    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.
    Do you think that even the worst person can change...? That everyone can be a good person if they just try? ~ Sans the Skeleton


  5. #15
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    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.



  6. #16
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    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.


    The last mosquito that bit me had to check into the Betty Ford clinic

  7. #17
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    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.

  8. #18
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    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.

  9. #19
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    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.

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