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Secrets At Samhain: A Caper in Ireland
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Molly Maltese
Molly Maltese
Old Shoe

Oct-27-2011 09:35

"Darlings, its terribly good to see you." Amelia de Maltesse known as Molly to her inner circle began, taking a seat at the head of the decadent art nouveau table that crowned her dining room. "I do declare its been a while since we reunited- I daresay some of us have gotten into the most delicious ventures in that time."

There were appreciative murmurs all around the table, and a few jokes besides. She waited a moment with a coy smile on her lips, running her fingers absently through her rich waves of auburn hair. When the room had quieted somewhat, she produced a slim folder and placed it delicately on the table before her.

"The reason why I called you all here today is I have had the most interesting case offer from a rather desperate fellow in Scotland. He is the caretaker of a castle in Ireland. Excuse me for thinking the man is already quite a dunderhead- he's had several psychics tour the premises in an effort to discern the curious activity there and come up with nothing. The parish police have investigated a strange murder that recently occurred there but have come up with nothing."

"You're saying this place is believed haunted?" a voice rose from the friendly din of the dining room.

"It would appear so." Molly looked down at the file and tapped a slim fingernail upon it. "More like, it may be a series of elaborate pranks designed to drive the castles denizens away. There is a footnote in here about a vast treasure hidden somewhere on the grounds in the 12th century, and the recent discovery of a priceless gold cup has stirred up local interest and treasure hunters."

"Cursed treasure, of course." said another voice. Molly threw a quick grin.

"Naturally." She ran her fingers through her hair once again. "It isn't our usual case. However, all expenses are paid for our travel and the caretaker seems quite desperate for our professional opinion. The murder has put quite a damper on things as well.

Replies

Riza Hawkeye
Riza Hawkeye
First Nomad

Oct-29-2011 10:51

Sufficiently satisfied with her lodgings, Riza turned to look out her window. Expecting to see once more the dense fog which had pervaded the air since early that morning, she gave a small start when instead she saw a man, or at least what appeared to be the outline of a man, staring back at her from a few feet beyond the window. Immediately wrenching her door open, and simultaneously pulling out a small knife from her bosom, she turned toward where the man had been, ready to strike. But there was no one there.

Looking all around but seeing no sign of anyone, Riza composed herself and continued to walk along the deck in a rather more hurried fashion, until she heard some voices behind a closed door. That was Molly’s room. She knocked, and upon hearing, “Come in,” she entered and closed the door firmly behind her.

“What’s the knife for?” Joseph queried at once, staring at Riza’s hand.

“Knife?” Riza said, looking down. “Oh nothing, just thought I saw something,” she said nonchalantly, stowing it away. As the three filled her in on what they had been discussing, Riza perched on the corner of the bed with a thoughtful look on her face. When they finished, she said slowly, “I may not know much about these symbols you’ve researched, but…I can tell you one thing for sure. Those markings which were cut into the boy? They were made by a stone.”

“A stone?” Marc said doubtfully. “It looks more like they were carved in with some sort of knife.”

“No, it was a stone, a sharpened one. Trust me, dear, I know my weapons,” Riza added. “If you pull out that picture, you’ll see what I mean. Look very closely and you can see not just straight cuts, but also notice that the flesh along the sides of those cuts is slightly indented even where it has swollen.” They all gathered to look.

“Is there any way we could get a closer look at that body when we get there?” she asked Molly, who appeared to look a little paler than usual.

Joseph Zeo
Joseph Zeo
Tale Spinner

Oct-30-2011 07:03

Joseph Zeo just remembered why he seldom take sea faring journeys, or better put, the damming nausea reminded him why.

Two days into the cruise and he could no longer go anywhere, stuck in his bed with a vomit bag beside him. Zeo ordered food to be brought in to his room, only to have eaten a quarter of the meals before everything came back out again. He told no one of this weakness of his, of course, and only insisted that he needed time to reflect on the case, as if they had a lot of go through already, which was far from facts.

Indeed, all they had so far was a long to-do list from corpse examination to interrogation of everyone involved... interrogations? No, that should be interview and investigation... The illness was truly getting to his head.

Zeo was seeing things as well. Stranger looking at him from the mirror, from the reflection at the window, from the glass of water by his bedside... His eyesight was playing tricks on him, Zeo concluded. Damn nausea! Why did he ever agree to go to Ireland in the first place. He was beginning to curse the day he was born. All Zeo wished for was that the passage would end quickly, but each hour seemed to stretch into centuries...

Molly Maltese
Molly Maltese
Old Shoe

Oct-30-2011 11:13

Molly swallowed forcefully and collected herself. "I'm not entirely sure, Riza. That does fall under the Gardai's jurisdiction."

At the blank look, Molly smiled. "An Garda Síochána. The police force of Ireland. I'm not sure if they still have the body, or indeed would let us investigate. As internationals, the lines do get a bit sticky, but we'll have to see what we can do. Now, I suggest we all retire to our rooms and unpack, we do have a long journey ahead of us and plenty of time to discuss."

Molly Maltese
Molly Maltese
Old Shoe

Oct-30-2011 11:31

"Zeo." Molly gave a knock and an urgent hiss at her friends door. "Zeo! Open the door!"

She heard a groan, indistinct muttering and then the door flew open, where she was greeted by a very disheveled and pale Joseph Zeo. His state surprised her a bit, and she paused from her panic for a moment to assess. "Are you quite all right?"

"What is it, Molly?" Joseph asked gruffly, leaning his head on the doorjamb. Molly bit her lip and brushed him back.
"Let me in, I've had quite a scare." she whispered and closed the door behind her. Joseph seated himself on the edge of his bed and fixed her with a curious look. Rather than her usual self-assured self Molly appeared positively anxious and was wringing her hands. Her hair was dishevelled and her pale face bore none of her usual sophisticated makeup, making her look almost childlike.

"Joseph have you been...I don't know..."she looked down at her hands. "Seeing anything, or hearing noises or...well, like whispers?"

Joseph said nothing, just raised a brow. Molly continued. "I had the strangest...sensation I guess. I was in my room just now, getting ready to retire for the night, when all of a sudden the room was gripped by the most piercing cold. I tried to rise to find a jacket but it was as if I were very tired all of a sudden, very sluggish, as if...my moves were not entirely my own. I looked into the mirror and then for a moment, my reflection was mine, but not mine, as if it were someone else and I heard ...well...chanting. And the scariest part of all Joseph, I started to think about...leaping overboard, and thinking how nice it would be to just sink down into the waves, relaxing, let cares and worries eke away..."

Her voice faded away and she stared at the wall, her porcelain brow troubled.

"I may be a bit arrogant, you know, but I don't think one of my faults is suicidal. " she said finally. "I can't help feeling there is something terribly wrong with this case!"

Riza Hawkeye
Riza Hawkeye
First Nomad

Oct-30-2011 13:33

Leaning over the railing and looking at the small waves crashing against the side of the ship, Riza inhaled deeply and let the misty saltiness of the air fill her lungs. The air was still saturated by the unrelenting fog and it was hard to see very far. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something odd about this ship, but couldn’t place it.

Hearing the familiar sound of footsteps behind her, she didn’t bother turning around. “Yes Marc?” she asked pleasantly, but there was no response. Instead there came a sharp swish as something came flying down on Riza’s right side, and a resultant clang of metal on metal as she spun out of the way. His body being too close, she knew she could not reach for any of her weapons fast enough.

Riza swung out her hand at him, clawing him across the face with her newly-sharpened nails, tearing marks from his left ear down to his lip. She felt warm flesh accumulating under her fingernails and the wetness of blood running down her hand. “What in the world do you think you’re…” she began to yell, but trailed off as she stared at Marc’s face. Riza instantly backed up several feet, bearing an astonished look on her face.

“Marc?” she asked uncertainly, staring at the man before her. The figure was hunched over, clutching his head, completely ignoring the free-blooding wound on the side of his face. Marc let out a bellowing yell and twisted his head to face Riza. She gasped. Staring back at her were two completely white eyes; it looked as if they had rolled up into his head.

Unsure of what to do, she pulled out her pistol. Her hands shook at the idea of shooting a friend, but this wasn’t her friend, whatever this thing was. “Leave us alone if you want to live,” he rasped suddenly in an otherworldly voice, twisting his head at an unnatural angle to stare at her. Just as Riza was about to pull the trigger, Marc gave a mighty sigh and slumped down onto the ground, motionless.

Riza Hawkeye
Riza Hawkeye
First Nomad

Oct-30-2011 13:33

Riza just stood there, staring. After a few moments he began to stir again, and Riza tightened her grip once more. “Damn it! What the hell!” Marc said as he brought his hand to his bleeding face. Lifting his head, Riza could see his eyes had returned to normal. Seeing her standing there extremely white, and looking at the blood on his hand, he was lost for words. “Riza?” he managed, “What…what happened?”

“Get up. Get up,” she said squeakily, pulling him to his feet by the scruff of his collar. Normally nothing scared her, but this was way beyond what she normally dealt with. “Walk,” she commanded, prodding him in the back with her pistol. Joseph’s room was closest, so they headed there. Wrenching the door open, she pushed Marc in forcefully before noticing that both Joseph and Molly were sitting on the bed.

“We have a problem,” Riza said calmly, then grabbed the nearest trash receptacle and retched into it.

Ed Carlyle
Ed Carlyle

Oct-30-2011 19:23

Something made Edward jump in his sleep, making him awake with a start. He rolled over and faced the young twenty-something blonde woman lying next to him. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. It was then that the pain hit his head from drinking so much last night. He sat up and put his feet on the cold floor of the massive ship.

Running his hand through his hair, he sighed. "You alright, babe?" the girl asked. "My head feels like its about to split open," he replied. Then he realized he couldn't even remember her name. It didn't matter to him. She was just another woman who was way too easy to hook up with. But it was the depression that made him want to do this. It was the only way he could find to deal with the divorce two years back. It was a simple story. He cheated on his wife making the divorce his own fault.

He almost lost his job as U.S. Marshall, could have been put in jail if she had pressed charges, and if that happened, he would have lost everything. It was already hard enough having a six year old daughter that he couldn't even see.

So here he was two years later on the ship going to the U.K. either to go on vacation or to get away from life and never go back to the states. He turned back around and faced the girl laying in bed. She had fallen back asleep. Quietly, he grabbed his clothes and returned to his room.

Twenty minutes later, Edward found himself showered, shaved, and back at the bar wasting his money on cheap whiskey and scotch. Every now and then he'd light up a cigarette or a cigar, have a conversation with a guest, and flirt with a girl or two.

It was right around evening, when Edward started to really feel the alcohol taking effect. If he continued to drink, he would get to the point where he wouldn't be able to walk. The only thing that really seemed out of the ordinary was a group of four people. As he was getting up to go talk to the girl sitting at the bar four seats away, a strange man walked past him.

Ed Carlyle
Ed Carlyle

Oct-30-2011 19:35

He had a blank stare and seemed to move with with a smooth walk, arms not swinging. Almost like something right out of the pulps. The man went outside to a girl leaning on the railing, staring at the waves.

He heard the man say something but he was too drunk to understand it. The girl clawed him in the face and he fell over. The man screamed "Damnit! What the hell!" Edward notice blood gushing from his cheek. She had hit him good. She grabbed the collar on his coat and pulled out a gun. The strode past him and down into the corridors to the rooms. He followed them.

After twisting and turning through a maze of hallways and stairs, they came to a room. The girl reached out and knocked. When it was opened she thrust the man into there. Just as the door was being shut, he heard her say, "We have a problem."

He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't dreaming. The question now was what the the hell to do next. Introduce himself?

M. Lacrimosa
M. Lacrimosa
Sleuth About Town

Oct-30-2011 20:46

Marc closed the door to his room quietly. As he shut the door a gust of cold air filled his room making him shiver. Ignoring it, he placed his briefcase containing a disassembled M1 Thompson sub machine gun.

Something felt wrong. Terribly wrong. Like someone, or rather someTHING was in the room with him.

He looked up at the mirror on the wall and saw a shadow facing him. Marc turned quickly drawing his revolver but the shadow was gone. "Maybe its just the alochol," he said to himself.

In order to fight the nausea from sea sickness, he'd drink at least half a bottle of whiskey and pop a pill. He stayed drunk but not completely trashed.

As he turned back around, he came face to face with the faceless shadow. Marc didnt' have time to swear before he blacked out.

12 minutes later, Marc found himself outside. His head hurt like hell. Riza! there she was! He tried to reach her. She turned around as he doubled over and grabbed his head in pain. He blacked out again. This time he came to, too quickly from a stabbing pain on the side of his face.

"Damnit! What the hell!" he yelled! He looked down at his hands, only find them full of blood.

M. Lacrimosa
M. Lacrimosa
Sleuth About Town

Oct-30-2011 20:47

“Riza?” he managed, “What…what happened?”

“Get up. Get up,” she said squeakily, pulling him to his feet by the scruff of his collar. “Walk,” she commanded, prodding him in the back with her pistol. Joseph’s room was closest, so they headed there. Wrenching the door open, she pushed Marc in forcefully before noticing that both Joseph and Molly were sitting on the bed.

“We have a problem,” Riza said calmly, then grabbed the nearest trash receptacle and retched into it.

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