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The Hunt Club - in which Anikka gets a Clue

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Anikka

Babelfish

[Post History]

Feb-2-2010 16:24

In several large cities around the world, there is a social club known only to a select group of people. Simply called 'The Hunt Club', it is not to be confused with any other 'Hunt' club, where discussions of horses and hounds hold sway; rather, it is a place where the pursuit of people is the topic of the hour - for The Hunt Club is the gathering place of many a Private Investigator.

Regardless of social class, wealth (or lack thereof), or any other determining factor - except one - the Club is open to anyone, any time. All one must do to get in is to flash one's license. Once inside, cozy rooms with dark wood panel walls and deep, plushy carpet are furnished with comfortable armchairs and sofas, waiting to give comfort to a tired-footed gumshoe. Warm fires, good food, and free drinks help to soothe even the most weary soul.

Even that luxurious steamer, the Sleuthetania, has a room set aside solely for Hunt Club use. While Anikka Sevine was sailing to England at the beginning of her adventure, she spent many a happy hour there, chatting with Rosamund Clifford about the latter's exploits in Cairo. On her way back to New York, she spent many a quiet hour there, reading Agatha Christie novels and absently nibbling on chocolates.

Back in New York, Anikka unpacked her steamer trunks, throwing her clothes into a pile on the bed in a most distracted fashion. Finally, after staring blankly at the pile for several minutes, she muttered a mild curse word, changed her clothing, and stalked off to the New York chapter of the Club, where she found the smallest room (two chairs before a fire, two chairs back in the corners, and small tables to hold plates and glasses) and threw herself into a chair.

When Molly Maltese wandered into the room a scant twenty minutes later, she found her friend staring at the fire. "I heard you were back from your trip, how was it?" she asked blithely.

Replies

Anikka

Babelfish

[Post History]

Feb-2-2010 16:27

"How could you be sure?" asked Marc as he poured himself yet another glass of gin.

"He'd been shot in the back of the head," came the reply, and they all sat in silence for several minutes.

"But... then..." Molly started, then settled back into silence before trying again. "So, is that it? You just gave up and came home?" Anikka's eyes blazed, and Molly drew back a little. "I didn't mean it like that, really. Please tell us what happened."

Anikka shook her head a little, gave a little self-mocking ghost of a smile, and shrugged. "Well, after all that, it could only have been one person. I searched the house, and eventually found the killer in the cellar, giggling. Quite mad, and in Bedlam now."

The trio sat quietly, staring at the fire and shaking their heads until Marc gave a start, shook Anikka's arm, and asked, "Well, then, who was it?"

Anikka heaved a sigh and a disgruntled expression crept over her face. "Who else? There was only one person left, wasn't there?"

"But... who done it?"

Anikka sat silent, and Molly frowned as she stared at her friend until, finally!, the fog lifted and she began to giggle.

"It's not funny, Molly."

"It is from this chair," came the reply, and Molly covered her face with both hands while her shoulders heaved, her body wracked with laughter.

"What's not funny, that's so funny? Who was it," asked Marc.

"Unfair, that's who it was! Unfair that I get the most interesting mystery I've ever heard of, and it turns out to be a cliche!" And Anikka stood from her chair and paced in front of the fire, occasionally stopping to glare at Molly's laughter, until she finally threw herself back into the chair, muttering, "Damned cliche!"

Anikka

Babelfish

[Post History]

Feb-2-2010 16:28

Finally, Molly overcame her laughter and perservered to keep from breaking out again by not looking at her friend. In the third chair, Marc was still trying to work it out, fighting the effects of the large amounts of gin he'd imbibed during the story. The silence became comfortable again, and Molly reached out a hand to Anikka, who clasped it briefly, and peace was restored.

Bevingston came to retrieve empty plates some time later, and found Anikka gone, Molly in the giggles again, and Marc muttering, "Who's a cliche? Who's the killer? How can a killer be a cliche?" Bevingston, who had overheard the entire story, merely shook his head and collected plates and bottles, leaving silently. Shortly thereafter, there was an uproar when Marc, in drunken triumph, staggered out onto the balcony overlooking the main room and shouted, "THE BUTLER DID IT!", after which he collapsed to the floor, laughing until tears flowed down his cheeks.

Anikka

Babelfish

[Post History]

Feb-2-2010 16:30

*Footnote: This is meant to be a story, not a running roleplay. However, anyone who wishes to use 'the Hunt Club', Bevingston, or anything else pertaining to them is perfectly welcomed - even encouraged - to do so.