Here you go heading back north through Silverside again.  It feels like all you've done tonight is walk through this literally sleepy neighborhood.  At least it's a different route this time.

The two of you hang back quite a ways from Mathis.  He's doesn't have that paranoid looking-over-the-shoulder all the time habit that is typical of those you tail.  He just strolls along, carefree.  It makes the task easier, so you're not complaining.  You've got plenty of time and space to do some whispering to your lady friend.  You give her the lowdown on how a two person tail really works with signals and passing the mark off, not just a couple shadowing a guy.  As you get to rambling on about flanking and blindspots Mathis arrives at his destination.  It's a nice enough, slim two-story, jettied, timber framed house.  The building layout is popular in the tighter packed areas of town, but here it's done just for style.  There are no lights burning inside, which is to be expected at this late hour.

Connie looks at you as Mathis goes into his house.

"Izzat it, Pops?"

It sure didn't crack the case open, but at least now you know where Mathis DuCrana lives.

I felt my energy failing.  I had something, but still...

"Yeah doll, that's it.  We know where he lives.  We know who Chassy's with.  We know someone is burning down warehouses."  I rubbed my eyes.  "Damn, that's about all.  That's about all I know.  Hints of magic.  Hints.  Nothin' else."

I looked at my partner.  "Sorry.  My mind is fried.  I'm not sure where to turn.  I s'pose I could go back to the old man's house and see If Chassy ever came home.  I'm not sure what else to do."

She holds up another finger for each thing your say you found out.  Three fingers.

"Theah bettah ways to find out if a goil stayed out all night than checkin' wit daddy."  Connie says shaking her head.

"Ya know," she raises an eyebrow.  "You haven't showed me da detective office yet, Pops."

Then she pokes you twice, playfully, in the chest/shoulder.

"Ya wanna see the joint?  Its small.  But it's home.  Come on, doll.  I'll show you.  Even got a bottle stashed for special occasions."

His temper had improved with the thought of home. And the beautiful gal with him.

"It ain't much, but it's mine.  Gotta secretary, but only shows up sometimes.  It's legit, you'll like it."

He started towards his way to the office, offering his arm if she wants it.  He's sorta a gentleman, sometimes.

Home sweet office.  Noises clang and crack from around back of the building.  There's a canine yowl.  A stray dog is fighting with something amidst the scrub brush and trash.  You'd like to think it a raccoon or some other nocturnal varmint, but truth be told it could be anything from a goblin staking a claim to the field for the night to a demonic imp.  Best to let the dog handle it.

Marceline slips and loses her footing on the way up your side stairs.  They're notoriously uneven and the lighting is somewhere between faint and non-existent.  You're used to the imperfections of your home turf and your feet can safely guide themselves even in pitch black.  In the nick of time you extend a stabilizing hand to grab her coat and keep your partner from tumbling down the stairs or pitching over the side and braining herself on the bricks below.

"Thanks," she says relieved not to be injured or worse.

With your other hand you slide your door key into the lock and let the two of you inside.  You guide Marceline to the couch and set to work lightning the wood stove's tinder and throwing on a split log.  Your notion is that the flickering light from the stove sets a better mood than a bright lantern and the warmth will take the chill off.  Is 'cozy' too much to ask out of your little stove?

"So this is where the magic happens?" she asks tossing her newsboy cap unerringly onto your hat, coat, and weapons rack and shaking out her hair in a delightfully feminine way.

There are two ways you could take that question.  From what you know of the quick-witted bassist she almost certainly meant it to be taken both ways.

You look around.  The office is untidy and small, but not messy.  There's a method to your organization and a minimalism to your furnishings.  You've been sleeping on this couch so many nights in a row now you almost forgot about your Murphy bed.  You don't bother pulling it down just for you because that requires moving your desk, table, chairs (Lots of chairs, maybe too many.  One for you, one for grace, two around front of the desk for customers, one for you're-not-sure-what.)  And what you overstatedly call a liquor cabinet.  Speaking of liquor, you promised the lady a stashed bottle, which you fish out along with two clean-enough glasses.

I understood how the girl might think... and yet I know what I want.  So I responded.

"Yes it is.  My books, that is the way the law stands.  In my book, this is what I write what I understand. These books have my notes. (and they are what are rested above, but for what I have not entered.).  I enter many many things, about people, of others. I only have myself in here, and I only have not notions.  My bed crawls down from the back, I sleep on this couch.  Damn, I am not much, but no investor was a real reality has as notion, but his intuition.  So here is the mystery.  A fellow, following his intuition.  Have as seat.  I'll get your drink."

He pulled out a bottle, and blew off the dust, then offered two dusty glasses and filled it.  It was the good stuff, or as much as he could offer.

"Who knew you were such a bookworm?"

She shrugs off her coat, leaving it behind her on the couch before accepting the drink. Her fingers are so remarkably pale that the pinker areas stand out dramatically.  The coloration effect makes her hand look cold as it holds the drink, but also reminds you that her fingertips spend many hours pressed against instrument strings.  Marceline notices you studying her fingers even though you don't feel your eyes lingered overmuch.

"Now Hardy, don't get jealous of the glass.  I have another perfectly good hand that can be all yours."

She pats the couch next to her with the aforementioned perfectly good hand.

"Is this drink for sipping and conversation, or should I pound it back so you can have both of my hands?"

I sipped my drink, still distracted by her hands... and the typical bit of teasing.  This doll was really the cat's meow.  I sat down next to her raising my glass to her.

"I always consider the drinking choice to be a personal one.  Can we split the difference?  It's been a long night but you got some good senses and eyes.  You got the stuff, the stuff to be good at this.  I figure the things we learned will fit together and explain this caper.  But..."  I took her hand.  "I ain't in no hurry to leave."

I used to be good at the lines, but she was something special.  I wondered if I was in over my head.

One thing leads to another.

In this case witty banter leads to drinking more than just one glass of the good stuff, which leads to finding yourselves very very close, gazing into each other's eyes, which leads to a long, passionate kiss that would make romantics swoon.  Kissing leads to a fade-to-black.  Even though it is not seen on screen everyone knows what that means.

You wake up together in the Murphy bed around noon.  Marceline smiles over at you with a still somewhat drowsy sparkle in her eye.  Her hair is just messy and chaotic enough that you wish she could keep it that way always.  A light sheet is pulled half way up her chest displaying her pale, bare decolletage.  You imagine she doesn't typically wear the sort of  dramatically cleavage baring dresses Chassianna does that would show her off like this.  Then again, you've only known this lady less than one day.

"I'm famished," she says.

"May I make you breakfast?  Or better yet, with the few coins I haven't given you, may I take you out for breakfast.

This wasn't a part I was used to.  Most dames left at daybreak, but none stayed and looked as completely and wonderful as this woman.  She was work every stupid caper I had done, and she wasn't even a customer.

I take the time to plant a soft and loving kiss on her lips.  Not that I know what that means, but I assume it is not a tonsil sucking type of kiss.

"If you wanna know the truth, being a Private Eye isn't about waking up to beauty.  And certainly not to hoping you'll be my partner.  This caper has many weird changes, but it is still what we got.  Breakfast, and then compare ideas?"  I may not be a charmer, but she was not just any dame.

She looks around at the office a bit dubious that it could now, or has ever provided breakfast.

"How about I treat this time?  I know a place in Wagontown, if you don't mind another stroll through Silverside."

I can't help but smile.  "Doll? Or should I say Partner?  I will take you up, and promise a proper meal, this caper is done."

I step up and place a gentle kiss... on her lips, or if not, someplace  appropriate.

"Lead on.   To wherever,  beautiful lady." And if she allows, I take her hand and head out.

Silverside looks different in the daylight.  It's certainly more active and alive.  Unlike Edge it's clean, there's plenty of greenery around, and there are no unsavory characters lurking about.

"There's your bookstore," Marceline says rather nonchalantly, pointing right and a bit over her shoulder as you pass some shops.

Sure enough, There's a sign with the circle, CA2, and a stairway.  It says "C. Aleister's Second Story Library" on the sign.  It's rare to see so many words on a sign.  Typically shops signs just go by picture, but of course customers of a book store will be fully literate, and this sign leans into that fact.

Would you have noticed it and put two and two together on your own?  You'd like to think you would've, especially if you were alone, focussed in on the mystery, and not distracted by delightful femininity.  Then again, one doesn't typically find a bookstore by wandering the neighborhoods.  You would've asked someone in the know.  Shown them the makers mark.  To be fair, you didn't notice that either.  That was Marceline too.


Wagontown is the bustling heart of Granite Rocks.  The Water Mages' Tower looms over an academic part of the business neighborhood.  There are dorms and boarding houses as well as libraries (not the C. Aleister sort) and halls where scholars and would-be mages study all manner of magic.  The Water Mages became famous and powerful through their creation and maintenance of a sewage, storm, and water system that is cleaner than the Granite River; cleaner, even, 'than a fresh mountain spring' if you believe the hype, and you do.  You've been drinking the Water Mages' water all your life.

Marceline leads you to a building rather larger than a tavern should be.  You know by the architecture that it was once a large church, not quite a cathedral.  The entrance way and facade are wooden, newer, and more pub-like.  A slightly faded red cloth banner with 3 bells embroidered on it in thick golden thread is draped above the door.

"Here we are, the three bells," she says holding the door for you.

Inside, the air is cool and heavy with the scent of stale ale and yesterday's fire. The bar counter stands bare except for a single, half-empty flagon of flat ale left by a late-night reveler.  Stools sit overturned.  A lone chair by the hearth holds a discarded cloak.  A man, who you assume is the cloak's owner is in a heated, but friendly argument with a tall, burly, pale woman behind the bar, her fiery hair is stuffed into a loose cap.  Speaking of caps, Marceline isn't wearing her Connie Wrecks newsboy cap here.  She must've taken it off somewhere along the way and stuffed it into her satchel.  The bartender loudly offers to brain the cloak owner with the stone tankard her large meaty hand is wrapped around if he doesn't like her proposed deal.

The only other customer in the three bells is an old old man, his face creased with fatigue from the previous night's revelry.  He has one hand on a stone tankard and the other spooning something out of a steaming stone bowl into his slack mouth.  You peg him as a harper based on the dulcimer leaning against his chair, but his advanced age doesn't exactly fit your mental image of a harper.  You prefer a more vibrant, energetic, and preferably female musician like the one standing next to you.

"It's a dance hall at night," Marceline explains why the place looks so much smaller inside than out, and what the extra space is used for.

She leads you up to the bar.

"Kalinda, we'll have two bowls of the bap."

She looks at you to see if you'd like to add anything to the order.  You would.  You've got serious cottonmouth and you haven't had a thing to drink (we are not talking about the Water Mages' own fresh water here) all day.  Also, you have no idea what 'the bap' is.

"Something to help in the morning.  Hair of a dog, you know," I stated, giving Marceline a wink.  To be honest,  I had not felt this good in years.  I liked my ladies, that was true, but she was different.  Truly, she was different than anyone I had ever met. Cute yeah, but smart, streetwise and inventive.  Man, she was inventive!

"So what is Bap?  And I think I like Kalinda, she looks like she could kick any man's ass.  Frankly, I think you could too."

I leaned back.  "So, any ideas?  I'm curious to take a walkabout to see what happened while we were... asleep." Damn, was that a blush on my part?  "And I still think your singer has her fingers in something. I'm thinking a trip back to the old man's place might be in order."

Kalinda hands out two stone tankards to you two, yours full of stout.  Then she dishes two steaming hot stone bowls in wooden ring handles, making them look a bit like cooking pans.

"Rice with egg, veggies, and meat," Marceline says, pointing at the ingredients with a pale, slim finger on her tankard hand.  "and some kind of red pepper sauce.  It's all they serve during the day."

You look down at your bowl of bap.  Rice and egg is a reasonable breakfast.  You've never had a pepper sauce with breakfast before.  You're not really sure how it'll taste.

Marceline tosses a coin to the old harper.  It thunks on the table and rolls around on its edge.

"Play something loud."

"Buh, ahm eatin' me lunch," he says plaintively with a helpless shrug.

She grumbles with irritation, sets her bowl down for an instant to take back her coin and mutters "Useless."

She picks a table far from the bar and bard.  You set down your food and drink and upright a nearby chair on the floor.

"Obviously, Connie can't go with you to Chassy's house.  Everybody knows me there.  Why don't you do your thing?  Check out the estate, the warehouse, the bookshop, whatever.  Come see me at Danny Silver's tonight and let me know what you found out,"  she grins at you between bites of bap.  "I'll make it worth your while."

The food is filling.  You really needed something.  The hot bowl makes the outside layer of rice crispy, so you scrape the bowl with your wooden spoon for each mouthful.  It's all base flavors except for the sauce, which has a kick, but isn't as spicy as you expected.  Your tongue detects something fermented in the sauce as well the stout you're washing it down with.

I chuckled, thinking over what she said.  And what transpired with the bard.  Typical musician, both of them, but she was clearly a professional.

"Yeah, Connie might stick out.  I think I owe a visit to the estate, there are just too many strange things going on that seem to come from there.  And after a good night... not sleep, doll, I think my brain's working better.  I'll check things, and get back to you.  You'll keep those adorable ears open, won't ya?  I get a feeling you'll hear more than I.  And we probably better not let on to Chassy that you and I are working together.  She doesn't like me, and I don't want to mess up your gig, although you're the best partner I've had.  Well, the only anyway."

Frankly, this Bap stuff was good.  I could live like this.  And she was amazing.  I could live with that too.

"So ready to start, partner?  I think we got a day t' kill."

The two of you make some small talk, finish your meal, and say your goodbyes.

You step out of the Three Bells and try to blink away the strong mid-day sun.  It doesn't work, but your eyes adjust.  Time to get back to the case.  You'd rather take a cushy carriage ride to Ascot than hoof it, but working stiffs like you put a lot of miles on the old boots.  Wagontown's a lot closer to Ascot than Edge, socio-economically and physically.

On your way to the general's estate you've got time to take stock of what you know.  You've met some of the players at Danny Silver's, but you don't have anything to connect any of them to a kidnapping.  Heck, you don't even have a kidnapping to connect them to.  At least you have a ransom note.  That's something.  Good solid physical evidence.  You've got a book about magic and you've got a pretty girl running from thugs.  They connect to each other, but do they connect to the case?  Now you've got a mage burning buildings down too.  It might not connect directly to the case, but the time frame of the fire in East Wharf fits.  That could be a connection if you did a little work.

That should be your focus, putting the pieces that you have together.  See what fits and what you can ignore.  You need solid connections between the people, the things, and the events.  That's how you'll push this case forward.

You look around.  Vast manicured lawns, excellent streets, walls and gates.  This is Ascot for sure.  What you're less sure about is which way the Daenatris Estate is.  It all looks different from street level in the sunshine.  You decide to navigate by gut instinct.  Your gut rarely fails you and today is no exception.  You find yourself at familiar gates looking up a large arching brass plaque reading DAENATRIS.  This is the place.  Your about to ring the gatehouse bell when a gardener spots you.  You tell her you're here to see the general and she lets you in.

This time you know the drill.  You're taking off your coat and armor before Norris even asks.  He politely accepts the armload.

"Are you here to see the general, sir?"

I know that I frankly need to investigate everyone here, but the General is a good start.  And besides, I should see him anyway, since he is paying.  "That is the plan, Norris.  How's the world treating you today.  Hear anything interesting?" Yeah, I know its a long shot, and I watch in case he needs motivation.  Of course, in this joint, he probably doesn't need my assistance.

I wait patiently.  Who knows, I might get a visitor while I wait.

"Another exquisite day, sir," Norris answers in a manner that is both off-the-cuff and formal at the same time.  He also sounds sincere.

"Well," he ponders a moment before answering your second question.  "We haven't heard from Sean Quinn or received any further correspondence from the would-be kidnappers.  I do hope your investigation, being of a more active variety, has born fruit."

"But you needn't tell me, sir.  Better to grace the general's ears."

With that he departs to prepare your audience with General Daenatris.


You tap your foot while waiting.  The sound echoes off the hard walls of the vast room.  When you close your eyes you can almost sense the general size and shape based on sound alone.  The foyer is quieter and feels more empty than it did last time.  A chandelier swings ever so gently overhead.  You wonder how they light and replace the candles.

"General Daenatris will see you now."

You follow Norris to the greenhouse again.  It's even hotter than the night before, what with the sunlight and everything.  The general is sitting in the exact same spot, but you notice he has a different shirt on today.  That is more than you can say for yourself.

The elderly elf motions for you to freely partake in the wet bar selection.

"Thomas Hardy.  Norris tells me you followed the Sean Quinn angle.  What did you learn over in Silverside?" asks the general.

"Good to see you, General, thanks for letting me meet again.  And thank you in advance for the drink."  I pour a good stiff one, then sit down. Even out of my normal attire, it is hot out here.  But if the old man likes it, so do I.

"He went into the park there, and no one has seen him since.  I went over to the nice joint nearby, ran into your daughter there.  I really don't think she likes me.  She figured you sent me to follow her.  I saw her later on the other side of town with a fellow, but didn't follow up."  I didn't need to tell him about my new partner.

"I'm following some other clues, and trying to tie them to the ransom note for a kidnapping that never happened.  Have you heard anything more, sir?"

OOC: You actually saw her in Silverside (not across town) outside Danny Silver's Casino.  She was with Danny Silver.

The general nods.

"I can see why she'd think I'm having her followed.  That is not the intent, but her safety is very important to me.  Do you know anything about the fellow she was with?  You must have reason to believe he's not involved with the ransom note."

"I haven't heard anything new since yesterday.  You are my source of information regarding these kidnappers, Mr Hardy."

I leaned back in the chair, looking at my drink, then at the General.  "I'm still working on that.  As far as I can tell, there are no kidnappers, or at least, no one has kidnapped your Daughter.  It's a caper without a caper.  But my buddy's missing, and there are some interesting things happening in town... warehouses burning down, strange magics, this mystery guy Chrissy is seeing.  I'm gonna turn some rocks over today and see what crawls out."

I looked seriously at the old man.  "I wanna get to the bottom of this as much as you do, and part of it will be following her, and seeing what she does.  Clearly, if there are kidnappers, that would be what they are doing too.  I ain't saying there is or isn't a kidnapper.  But somebody wrote that note, and that somebody wanted your attention."

I sipped the drink, a big sip, and leaned forward.  "I may have asked, but is there anyone that would want to do this to your and your family?  Some rival?  Former old friend or not so friend?  Anyone at all?"
This message was lightly edited by the player at 16:22, Sat 27 Apr.

The general lifts a hand off his lap and taps a bony knuckle to his chin.

"You know Mr. Hardy, I think most of the people in this town have forgotten about me.  Human's have a short memory and a shorter attention span.  My old rivals are no longer around, and in my current state I'm in no condition to make new rivals.  I suppose anyone living in Ascot or Wall is some sort of target or another for thieves.  You could look into the Thieves' Guild.  I'm sure you've dealt with them many times and have your avenues of inquiry."

With a slight shrug he sets his hand back down on the blanket.

"Truly, you'd be better off looking into those in dear Chassianna's circle.  She's out there in the world, living her life and actively attracting attention.  It's her not-so-friends, as you put it, who would pull a half-brained stunt like this."

I finished my drink, not at all surprised.  I figured Chrissy was all that, and I was thinking it more.  If she had half of the gumption her little sister did, then the entire town was in trouble.  I looked longingly at the booze the old man had, then sighed.  "That's part of my plan.  I'll get together with my partner, and we'll see if we can both follow your daughter and her friends.  I gotta feeling that you're right, she's got stupid friends trying to do stupid.  I still don't know where missing Quinn fits into this caper, but I will, trust me.  I'll find out, sir!"

I stood up, wondering if I dared ask him for more money, as I gave all I had to my 'partner.'  I might be a sneak, but at least I pretended to be honest.

The plan to shadow Chassianna and her associates pops into your mind just as you say it, and you're real glad it did.  Those are the words and thoughts of a professional who knows what he's doing.  Fills the customer with confidence to hear that sort of talk.

As for execution.  Marceline would dig it, but you'd have to be careful about who she's following.  Grace, on the other hand, she wouldn't raise any suspicion at all.  Maybe it was time you let her in on this case.  You're a little surprised she didn't pop in to the office while you were wooing Marceline last night.  She'd be more angry that you hadn't clued her in than catching you canoodling.  Dodged a crossbow bolt there.

Between this and the warehouse and bookstore leads you're feeling a little better, yourself, about the case.  Tom Hardy gets his man.

"Sounds like you have it under control.  Good luck," says the general as you stand up.

"If there's nothing else, sir..." Norris says, ready to show you out.

---

OOC: I believe you still have plenty of the 50 gold the general gave you.  You only gave Marceline the rest of your Danny Silver Casino chips.