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Mar-13-2009 04:11


To know what happened previously in this story please review the following thread.

The Daughters of Miss Violet Parr:

http://noir.playsleuth.com/map/cityhall/post.spy?id=30144

Mar-18-2009 09:26


"No, neither could I..." Clift said. "Come on now children." He grabbed Isabella and Cody and started directing them to the entrance of Doyle Estates."

He turned and said over his shoulder. "Hey Mak, you think Miss Cervasco would mind baby sitting tonight?"

"No, I don't think so." said Mak. "Why?"

"I want to take you two ladies out to dinner... haven't had such pleasantries since the kids came along."

"Count me out." Violet spoke. "I have some business to attend to. But please do take Mak out... She hasn't had a minute of peace since she came to London and this was supposed to be our vacation."

"Sure." Said Clift. "Mak, how about I take you to Khan's? It's Indian."

"Hope it's not too spicy though." Mak chuckled.

"Me too." said Clift as he walked into the apartment building with the kids.

Mar-18-2009 16:17

Upon putting enough distance between themselves and Brighton Central Station, Mike started to look around for a place to eat.

They ended up on a small street close to the channel. A small restaurant on the corner attracted Mike’s eye. It was a tiny place at the ground floor of a building, plated with old wood on the outside, big windows opening into the street and booths lined up in front of them on the inside. A simple sign, art deco style, with golden letters on a green background said ‘Barlow’s’. It didn’t look expensive and also wasn’t very populated, so Mike decided it was a good spot.

They all went in and took a seat. Pierre just crouched below the table.

“Oh my…what a cute little lady!”

Mike was a little startled by the voice and lifted a curious look at the waitress. She was a simple middle age woman, exposing clear face lines probably once beautiful, but now buried under quite a thick layer of makeup. Also her lips had received way too much lipstick than was needed. She was wearing…obviously, a waitress outfit and was holding a small notebook and a pen. One thing though glued Mike’s eyes onto her and he didn’t realize that he was staring at it: her chest.

“She is…ain’t she?” finally answered him.

“So, tell me little doll…what is your name?” the waitress asked and posed a kind smile.

The child turned her eyes to Mike looking as if she would be asking for permission.

“I guess it’s time to find out” mumbled him and then spoke out loud with a large smile. “It’s okay, kid. Present yourself to the nice lady.”

The little girl posed a serious face, jumped off her couch and made a wide bow, putting one leg behind and holding in her hands the margins of her dress: “Victoria.”

Mar-18-2009 16:18

“My, my…what elegant manners you have…” replied the waitress eyeing Mike.

“I wonder where exactly did she learn them” grumbled him only for himself.

The waitress stretched her hand ahead towards the child: “My name is Ana. Pleased to meet you.” She leaned her head ahead and slightly on a side.

The little girl…Victoria from now, didn’t say anything more but responded with yet another bow. She giggled then and hopped up on the couch again, starting to drag on Pierre’s ears.

The waitress turned her eyes to Mike.

“I assume you’re the father, am I right?”

“Indeed…” said him, then added just under his breath ‘…I assume the same thing.’

“And where is the lovely mother, may I ask?”

Mike gave her a somehow confused look and then served her a meaningful answer:

“Well…that’s something I’d like to know myself…”

“I see.” The waitress posed now an even larger smile.

“You’re new in town, I take it, Mr…”

“McCabe. Michael McCabe. And yes, we’re new…kind of…in a way…”

He realized he started babbling and stopped. He noticed also something strange had happened: as he pronounced his full name the waitress’s face seemed to glance. It was just for single second, but Mike was sure she was surprised.

She took a couple of moments to check out his face apparently, then leaned ahead providing Mike a full view of her breasts. She wrote an address on a paper, then folded it and slid it into one of his pockets, whispering sensual into his ear: “Well, sugar…since you seem to be alone, I can arrange you a…welcoming party.”

She smiled, then straightened up and asked.

“So, what’ll it be, dears?”

Mar-18-2009 16:19

They made a large order and stuffed up. During their long meal McCabe kept following the waitress with his eyes. She smiled at him from time to time somehow conspicuously, but that was not what was bothering him.

He noticed just upon taking the order, she whispered something in the tender’s ear that made him look into their direction. He shortly disappeared in the back and then in a couple of minutes a strange man had made his appearance. He was a big bald guy in a sailor outfit and even though he seemed to just have a few drinks, he gave Mike the impression that he was watching them.

Upon finishing their meal, McCabe asked for directions, exchanged a last smile with the waitress and left to search the city for his home.

Mar-21-2009 04:59

Following Anna’s directions, it was a matter of about 20 minutes till Mike and his companions found the address.

“I wish I would’ve also found a key…” mumbled Mike noticing the door was obviously locked. “Stay here, hid” he said then to Victoria, who looked at him and then pointed her attention fully towards the dog. She picked a flower from the grass and then sat on the sidewalk’s edge, giving it to Pierre to smell it.

Mike smiled and went to take a stroll around the house, hoping he might be able to find his way in somehow. He noticed that the grass had not been cut a long time now and also, as he took a look inside through a ground floor window, he saw the furniture was covered with white sheets.

“Hmmm…” mumbled him “…it looks as if I’ve been away for quite a while.”

Making his way towards the back he saw a door that had apparently been blocked with wooden boards nailed from the outside. Looking around he noticed a pile of rusted metal bars…a thrown away fence. He picked one up and used it as a crowbar to get in and thus he found himself in the kitchen.

A strange and somehow intoxicating smell was floating around. It felt like the odor of an old and long uninhabited house mixed with…something dead? Mike covered his mouth with a handkerchief and went ahead to search the rooms, pulling aside the spider webs covering everything.

Advancing in he noticed that one of smells was getting stronger and seemed to come from somewhere in the staircase. He stepped inside and found his way down towards the basement.

Popping the door aside he felt the smell becoming overwhelming. Whatever was producing it was definitely in the basement. He picked a gas lamp from near the door, lit it up and started his search.

Mar-21-2009 05:00

The light was throwing somehow scary shadows on the walls. Mike was sure that he noticed basement windows on the outside, but no natural light was coming in. He went to check the walls and found out that the windows were all blocked with wooden boards and rags. It looked as if someone wanted to keep the place away from any curious eye.

Taking a couple of steps more, something right in the middle of the room attracted his attention. He lifted the lamp up and…”What the hell?!?”

A corpse of a dead man was hanging from the ceiling. He seemed to have been hung down by his hands and showed serious marks of torture.

Mike looked around to make sure the place was otherwise empty and then took a step closer to the body to check it up. It seemed as if the man was dead for few days…maybe a week. The body had just started to disintegrate but he was still in one piece though.

Mike searched his clothes but came up with nothing. No clue about who the man might be. Just as he was about to leave, a shoe fell off one of the body’s feet. Mike noticed something that seemed glued on it on the inside. He picked it up and saw that it was an ID. He moved the lamp a little closer and…

“Damn!” he exclaimed out loud. “This fellow here was a cop!” He shook his head. “This thing smells bad…”

Mar-21-2009 05:01

Mike made his way up from the basement and searched the house in the hope of finding a clue about him, his past…or anything in relation to the strange situation he was in. Unfortunately all his efforts proved to be useless.

“Strange thing…” he said then to himself. “It looks as if I wasn’t actually connected to this place…as if I never stayed here at all, or…maybe I just cleaned up pretty good.”

Considering the body in the basement, Mike took the obvious decision not to stay. He thus went out, picked the little girl and aimed to find a hotel or something.

…

After about half an hour he entered the front door of a motel down by the ocean. It wasn’t looking really good but it was all he could afford after paying for lunch.

“McCabe. Michael McCabe” he said to the motel clerk checking his reaction. He didn’t show any though and this made Mike feel just a little safer.

He paid up for a double room for 2 nights and then went inside. Victoria crouched in the bed and quickly fell asleep.

“It seems to me this kid might’ve been through a lot lately…”

He took then a look at her dress. It was just then he realized she was a in a night suit and she had in her feet just a pair of socks.

“Damn!” mumbled him “…how could I be so blind!”

He covered her and then went out, locking the door behind him. He realized he needed to get her some clothes, but didn’t have any more cash. He started thus to walk the streets in search of an idea.

Mar-21-2009 05:01

…

‘McKinley’s Brewery �" Prize Fights’ the sign in front of him said in large letters. Mike leaned a little on a side and took a look at himself in a window. He noticed that he was quite a big fellow.

“Well now…it seems to me that I might just be strong enough to handle myself in a fight. Ain’t like I got a lot of options anyway.”

So he stepped in and had a short chat with the manager. He set a fight for later in the evening and even got a down payment for it. He rushed then out to a clothes store and bought Victoria a dress and a pair of shoes. He didn’t know what color she would like, so he went for the same that she was wearing on her night robe: purple…or…was it violet?

Mike made his way fast back to the motel and noticed happily the child was still sleeping. He took a quick shower and decided to take a nap himself also.

...

Mar-22-2009 04:51


Miss Violet Parr sat on a stool next to her daughter Isabella in Holland Park.

Miss Parr had always felt that Holland Park, as a district and a public park in the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, was one of the most romantic parks in west central London.

Since nature and greenery were becoming more and more scarce in a City like London, Miss Parr held this pretty little English Park in the highest regard, due to its abundant wildlife and secluded hideaways.

Miss Parr was painting today in a secluded area of the park.

Her oil paints were spread on a colourful pallet before her as she commanded the various strokes and splurges of colour upon the canvas. Her daughter, Isabella, lay on her stomach across the greenery of the grass with some pencil colours and some paper drawing what seemed to be a corpse in some funeral.

Violet, having decided the time was not appropriate to delve into her daughter’s psychology, focused her efforts into her current painting.

The painting, that was consuming all her artistic talent and capability, was that of a portrait. Though painting and art were not Miss Parr’s strongest talent, they were not her weakest by far.

“The artists the Metropolitan Police decide to hire these days...” Violet muttered to herself in defiance. “Laughable, just laughable talent... Why that portrait looked more like Pierre than Mr. Bane himself!”

...

Mar-22-2009 04:53


An hour passed by before Miss Parr's brush shrunk back and a content smile appeared upon her face.

“Now there is the Joseph Bane we know and love...” She turned to Isabella. “What a charming little drawing Isabella, but pray tell mother, who is that woman laying in that yellow coffin?”

“C’est toi maman!”

“Heavens...” Miss Parr reflected for a moment on Sigmund Freud’s theories and teachings. She then shook her head and showed Isabella the portrait she just completed. “And who is this?”

Isabella stared blankly at the portrait for a moment before turning her head with a toss. “Monsieur Fléau de Joseph.”

Miss Parr bypassed her daughter’s rudeness and looked to her artwork with a deeply satisfied smile. "Well done Violet!"

*