(Feel free to start doing what you do best!)

Monet St. Croix's private investigator's office is a sanctuary of style and sophistication, exuding an aura of chic elegance. The moment you step through the door, you are enveloped in an atmosphere that seamlessly blends classic refinement with a touch of Gatsby-esque allure.

At the heart of the room stands a commanding mahogany desk, its polished surface gleaming under the soft glow of a vintage Tiffany lamp. The desk, adorned with carefully arranged case files and a gleaming brass magnifying glass, reflects the meticulous nature of Monet's work and her unwavering dedication to solving mysteries.

The walls are a rich, velvety shade of deep burgundy creating a backdrop of understated luxury. They serve as a canvas for the carefully curated art pieces that adorn the space, showcasing art deco motifs in bold yet tasteful designs. Each piece is thoughtfully placed to create a harmonious visual composition, inviting intrigue and contemplation.

An inviting seating area, upholstered in sumptuous velvet in rich jewel tones, beckons visitors to sink into its embrace. The furniture boasts clean lines and streamlined silhouettes, evoking a sense of timeless glamour.

A carefully curated bookshelf, featuring leather-bound volumes and collectible first editions, showcases Monet's intellectual pursuits. Even the bookcase is a work of art: its intricate design and scalloped edges combine form and function in perfect harmony.

Tucked away in one corner of the office, a small side kitchenette adds a touch of convenience and functionality. A vintage refrigerator, its chrome exterior gleaming, hums softly, providing chilled refreshments on hot summer days. A sleek coffee machine stands ready to dispense aromatic brews. A compact sink with a polished brass faucet completes the small but practical space

As our story opens Monet is sitting at the desk. There is the scent of freshly brewed coffee coming from the fine China mug in front of her. With scissors and glue she is attaching photographs to typewritten report detailing the closing of her latest case.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:54, Sat 24 June 2023.

The phone rings. You answer and it’s a man named George Karameikos. He’s a wealthy investor and collector of cultural artifacts. He held a ball recently to show and possibly auction off a prized gem he collected. When the ball was over the ham was placed back in it’s safe. In the morning it was discovered that the gem was missing from the safe.

Well the day was off to an interesting start. Monet had been planning on heading to the Carnegie library again: she'd ordered a book by the mathematician Hermann Weyl looking at the relationship between quantum orbits and wave functions. Still she would enjoy the book as much after the case as she would now and a case like this could be something to really get her teeth into.

While listening to George on the phone she formulated a set of questions and a simple decision tree. "If you don't mind I'll just get a few key facts straight" she asked in her most professional voice. She checked the following

• Had the police been informed and if so what was the case number and who was the officer in charge
• Was the Gem insured, and if so with whom (and contact details)
• How had the gem been advertised, with contact details if it was through an agency
• How had George found her, and why her? Weren't the police and insurance company investigators enough?
• Who was in charge of security
• Was the ball in the same building as the place where the gem was stored?
• Were there any clues/signs (such as the safe being left open, or was it a 'sealed room' case?

After getting the basics she conformed she could

• Turn up to the house to talk to George and the servants and the head of security
• Look at the safe. Is it obvious? Who knew about it if it wasn't.
• Get a guest list, including any 'private off the record' guests, and the guests contact details

This message was last edited by the player at 08:13, Wed 28 June 2023.

Had the police been informed and if so what was the case number and who was the officer in charge.

“No, the police aren’t involved and he doesn’t wish them to be. That’s partially why I came to you…the gem’s origins are a bit…murky, so it can’t be insured. The party was by invitation only.”

“After the ball the gem was taken back by a team of armed guards to a safe in another wing of my mansion.”

“My chief of security has worked with me for decades. He is beyond reproach. I also interviewed the catering company and everyone on staff was already vetted.”

Look at the safe. Is it obvious? Who knew about it if it wasn't.

The safe is hidden behind a large painting with a tumbling lock and is not revealed to anyone who isn’t staff. The lock was in exactly the same position Karameikos set it after he locked it himself. You are welcome to investigate the safe.

He goes to fetch the list of invitees.

"I see" Monet said "And you have no deed of provenance for the Gem?" so it was stolen then. And she was being hired by a thief to steal the gem back from another thief. This was of course why she'd asked about the police and insurance. In her decision tree that she'd made earlier in the phone call the combination of 'no police, no insurance' when there had been an auction only matched one thing.

"I thank you for thinking of me. But unfortunately I only work on cases where I can stay totally within the normal legal framework. The information you have given me is of course covered by my usual confidentiality agreement" i.e. if you are nice, I'll be nice "If such a case does come up, please do think of me" i.e. she didn't work for criminals helping them steal things. "I go now to  pray for you in the Mosque. If I hurry I will make the service" and indeed she would. She would pray that this lesson would be learnt and that George Karameikos would cease his trading in stolen artifacts.

And with that she hung up. Wrote the names down. And pondered her options. George was a rich thief. A man used to getting his way. There was every chance he would send people to silence her. A man with a gun in the middle of the Great Depression in New York cost less than a pack of cigarettes. There was only one Mosque in New York. At 101 Powers Street. A so very new building in a Polish Muslim community that her donations had helped make possible. It would not take him long to find that out, if indeed he did not already know. A killing there would be far easier for him, and not investigated by the police in the way a killing in her office would. And she really didn't want to get her office 'broken'

She left her Burberry trenchcoat because she didnt want it get any unsightly holes. The same went for her beloved Fedora. Instead she put on a dark green box coat with a Manchunian dyed dog fur collar, and a simple headscarf before heading out.

Perhaps it was going to be an exciting morning. Perhaps she would just have a chance to practice her Polish. Who knew? But either way it was going to be interesting.

The services are inspirational and fulfilling. You meet fellow worshippers from all parts of the world after the services are over.

There’s a small group in what strikes you as traditional Eastern European garb, and their language sounds Eastern European but you can’t quite place it.

Monet was rather surprised to see people talking an Eastern European language she didn't recognise. She'd been born in Sarajevo, The 'Jerusalem of Europe' had could say a few words in most of the languages around there. Her curiosity was idly aroused, but there was nothing she could do about it. The rules of behavior in the Mosque prohibited her talking to them. She could ask some of the other women about them, and did so.

You learn that they are Latverian. Muslims from that country have been fleeing to the States after the current King (Thanos VI) survived an assassination attempt and blamed it on their community.

Monet couldn't help but feel for the refugees. A sad affair indeed.  She headed over to the Imam to chat about them. Checking that the community was looking out for them, as was the Sharia way.

Today wasn't a good day to talk to them, for all she knew there was going to be some shooting or a fight when she left. Taking her usual non obvious precautions she checked the outside. That was until she saw the newspaper vendor with the 'hot news'. It was rare that she showed shock, but she was surprised. All of a sudden the whole affair had got noticable more serious. From a 'crook who was robbed by another crook', to which she felt 'serves you right' to ... to what? She'd heard tales of objects of power, and whether or not they existed, that was one of the few scenarios that explained this level of violence.

If she was a betting woman, she wasn't, she would bet some clever thief stole the gem and the Nazis came after it. They were the kind of thugs that would blow things up. If she was right there were going to be violent times ahead.

The baddies, because it was too soon to say who, would of course know about her. The operator had put her through. There would be a record. Probably the police would find it too. Messy. Very messy.

Which meant she was now involved.

What was the right thing to do? What was her legal duty? What was her moral duty? She was a visitor to this country, and on the whole she had been made welcome. While she had little time for thieves: in her country their hands would be severed or they would be executed and that seemed correct to her, it was the job of the authorties to do this.

A few seconds of thought later it became clear. She walked the three blocks to her lawyers office planning scenarios in her head. How big was this? How violent would it get? Who could she trust? How was she going to avoid getting tangled up in a vicious spiral with the police and instead turn it into an opportunity?

"Mr Evart" she greeted the partner of Evart, Willsholt and Sons. "I appologise for the short notice. I am a witness to a crime, and wish to talk to the police about this. I'd like to make sure that the police don't treat me as a ... how can I put this politely ... 'black nigga bitch' who can be beaten and threatened and perhaps scapegoated."

"I have a few contacts within the police that I have dealt with on amicable terms before. However I doubt if any of them are on this case. You have more experience than I in these matters. I would very much like to go with you and a witness of unimpeachable character who will observe and prevent any police brutality as they and I and talk things over. I wish to be as helpful as possible in this matter as I am just a witness with valuable information that may assist the police to right a wrong and stop further violence."

"Does this seem like a sensible plan to yourself? If so perhaps you can arrange for a witness and together we will head to the precinct HQ."

"If you have a better idea I am all ears"

Mr. Every shook his head.

”All you did was take a phone call. And with an explosion like that? This is over the police’s pay grade. This is S.H.I.E.L.D.  business!”

He leans in to half-whisper.

”And for them? The law is just a set of polite suggestions. Stay as far away from them as possible. If you’re lucky they’d just deport you on the next plane. And ship your belongings on a slow boat later.”

"Sadly it is not quite as simple as that" Monet explained "The operator put a call through to me. I will have been the last or nearly the last call that our crook made. Thus I will be visited. By either the bad people with the bombs, the police or S.H.I.E.L.D. That is inevitable"

"There will be a moment of contact. That is something I cannot avoid. I can though influence when it takes place, and the circumstances of it."

"Now let us put the pieces of the puzzle on the table and work out the best approach"

• "In this country there is no obligation on a witness to inform the law that they have seen a crime."
• "Despite that within a few hours at most I will be a person of interest in the investigation"
• "Thus within a few hours, if matters are as you say, S.H.I.E.L.D will be looking for me"
• "Until the police or S.H.I.E.L.D approach me I am free to move and do what I wish. Both legally and morally"

"It seems I have only two choices. To approach them or to flee the country ahead of them. I cannot see a third. In a story I could try and 'solve the puzzle', but this isn't a Blood and Thunder western. It takes time and effort to find the solution to these matters. I would need to interview people. To travel. And S.H.I.E.L.D will be looking for the same people I am. It is inevitable that we will meet, and I would be far more suspicious than if I approached them. At that point I would not be deported..."

"If you wouldn't mind, I would like to make a signed statement. A full and complete disclosure of everything I know. We can have that delivered that to S.H.I.E.L.D. And then, unless you can think of some way of sensibly reducing the risk of that contact... and then I will flee."

"Do you know anyone that can broker a meeting? If not after the deposition I will make my leave. It has been a pleasure working with you Mr Evert. Both on this matter and on others. Should matters turn out poorly I would like to thank you for all your advice and your professionalist. Perhaps in the future we will have the opportunity to work together again to our mutual profit"

”We all seem to be on the same page…”

A man walks into the office with the two of you unannounced. He has graying temples and an eyepatch wearing a trench coat. He flashes a badge.

The lawyer stands.

”Colonel Nick Fury, I presume?”

TO BE CONTINUED…

It was perhaps half an hour later and Monet was walking back to the Mosque reflecting on 'kismet' or fate. Now she had a new client. Sure the pay was not in money, but it was in things that were important to her. And as ever she only took jobs that she were in line with her moral and ethical code. This was easy. The 'bad guys' had blown up a house. Killing more people than just the criminal George Karameikos. Him she had little sympathy for: when you entered the world of the criminal you voided much of the protection of the law. The people that worked for him: his cook, his servants and cleaners. Those she cared about.

It was also reassuring that, as far as Monet knew, she was being 'hired' aka pressurised because she had contacts and the ability to integrate into a community in the way few S.H.I.E.L.D agents could. She was a muslim, and important in the muslim community and had been born only a hundred miles or so from Latveria. She suspected the fact that she was PI had clinched it for Colonel Fury.

It did puzzle her why he had appeared personally. As Directory of S.H.I.E.L.D he could easily have sent a minion. Her father had met him, she knew, and respected him. Perhaps Nick had wanted to see if she was 'her father's daughter'? Or perhaps there was more to it. One never knew with people that operated at those levels.

Still her task now was easy. She reentered the mosque, repeated the 'Wudu' the ritual prayer and cleansing. A so familiar and yet calming activity. And then headed to see the Imam. It was easy to have an 'excuse' to see them. The Quoran was clear on the duty of those with wealth to those without. She would bring a gift of food and clothing. And see where it lead

She had no idea if Nick was right. Perhaps he had information he wasn't giving. Perhaps these people were mass murderers. Perhaps they were refugees. Soon she'd know

AKA Just asking the Imam 'hey where are they living'.

The imam mentions that the Latverian refugees have settled in crowded conditions on the Lower East Side, which is the fate of so many other recent immigrants.

When the conversation turns to Galib, who they look up to as a community leader. He notes that a couple times they started to greet him like royalty, but he stopped them…

At the moment he is out of town. He heard that was organized violence towards a Latverian settlement in the South…Tennessee maybe? He immediately hired a pilot to fly him down there.

Monet had of course seen Galib before. In 'Heaven'. "Do you know why he wears that mask" she asked curiously. She suspected that the organised violence would be dealt with quickly. And for that she had no sympathy for those that opposed Galib. America was a land full of hatred and legalised bigotry. Perhaps that would change but at the moment it seemed to be getting worse.

Having received instructions she took the charitable contributions she'd collected and moved to where the Latverian's were living. This was one of the requirements of her faith, and one of the better ones in her view. She had the help of a large Nubian to help her, one Koloda by name. The parcels were in the form of staples. Bulgar wheat, lentils, dried beans and potatoes. This wasn't the first time she'd done this for other communities and wouldn't be the last.

With Koloda ensuring they weren't hassled through the streets she came to the Latverian place and knocked on the door

“He told me he is yet another victim to the horrors of war.”

Monet reflected on the Iman's words as she knocked on the door.

The door opens and she is greeted warmly by an old woman with a cane. Several of the residents help her unpack the supplies on a nearby table.

Monet's Latverian wasn't very good, so after introducing herself she switched to Arabic. A most useful language for speaking to other Muslims with. The normal etiquette for this sort of thing was for a meal to be made using some of the charitable food stuffs, so she offered to help.

This kind of thing was great for breaking down social barriers and chatting. Monet enjoyed gossip as much as the next girl and didn't force the conversation in anyway. She'd get a lot of background information just be listening and showing interest. What they didn't talk about would help her secondary goal of checking out Nick Fury's theory as much as her primary of fulfilling her charitable duties.

She did mention she'd seen Galib, a man her father had a lot of respect for and that she hoped it would be possible to meet him. Her worry in the speakeasy had been 'he was after someone', and she suspected he cared very little for collateral. Here she didn't have that worry.

After taking her leave with the friendly Latverians and agreeing to see them next week at the Mosque Monet visited some contacts, did general detective work and visted a church with her most obvious lead in it.

Leaving it she was about to head back to her office when something niggled. "Excuse me, Sir" she said to a rather distinguished gentleman with traces of silver in his hair "I couldn't help but notice you match the description of a pilgrim who traveled to tibet with a two noblemen. If that's you are you free for a coffee? If not I appologise for taking up your time"

[You should post this in Marc’s thread since you’re all together]

The next morning, Monet packs her bags to board a train and journey into the Deep South the catch up with the mysterious Ghalib. She clutches a small green book in her hand, a guide to where she can move safely in a volatile region.