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Elizabeth March
Elizabeth March
Sleuth About Town

Jan-9-2013 07:52

(Missed this space. Maybe we can revive it. I sure hope so. Not a great start, but should anyone join, I'd be really happy.)

It had been a long run.
Travelling all over the world to chase after Lazarus Metzger had been tired.
All she wanted now was to sleep.
As the young woman entered the small apartment building, she laughed quietly to herself.
One more time, she repeated her favourite sentence.
"Reformed burglars never sleep, dear."
Locking the door behind her, Elizabeth March - at least that was how she was known at the moment - got rid of her shoes and took a deep sigh.
Fixing herself a drink, she walked up to her desk. Pieces of paper were there, just like she had left them... right?
"Whatever they wanted, they didn't find it. Doesn't matter."
Nobody had broken in. So the only possible conclusion was that someone had paid - well - for her key. Not important. The money in the drawer was there, to the last penny. It wasn't cash they were after.
After a softly mumbled curse, she went in the bathroom for a long bath. And then, out back in the street.
The Tricky Mister was the place when you needed information - or maybe even bumping into an old friend.


Washed Up Punter

Feb-6-2013 21:21

Why? Firstly because of their existence. Secondly because although her group of vampires did not use their supernatural abilities for evil (not often anyway), there are other vampires that do. She does not know what type of person Lawliettine is. Grem nods her head for the refill.

As the bullets escaped their barrels the scent of smoke is strong; as the bullets missed their targets shouting is heard. In response to the imminent danger heard from outside, Grem’s fangs appear as well as an angry growl. It became her nature now whenever a threat comes to her attention.

Washed Up Punter

Feb-6-2013 21:59

Grem became a blur as she rushes outside to confront the situation. She stands two feet away from the doorway, baring her fangs and ready to move. But, the situation was already over when she got there. All she could see is a man in fetal position nursing his knee as it leaked crimson onto the streets of New York. Her fangs retracted slowly, but she was not ready to return to Lawliettine just yet.

The woman started screaming in a language she did not recognize. It wasn’t hard to figure out that it was similar enough to Spanish, but not quite. Whatever she is screaming, from the tone it wasn’t anything nice. She turned to get a better look at the woman. To Grem’s surprise it is Elizabeth March. Grem had worked with Elizabeth in the past with some cases, as she has no vampire connections in New York. Last she heard, Elizabeth was chasing after Lazarus Metzger. She would have to ask how that went, but not right at this moment.

There is another man, Grem assumes that he is the one that shot the man rocking on the street. He looks like he had seen the world and that he had grown up faster than he had wanted. On him she picks up the scent that is sterile, a sickening chemical clean. Though faint, she catches the scent of latex. What type of man smells of chemicals, rubber, and conceals a gun?

Elizabeth speaks her broken English at the man while brandishing her knife. ‘I don’t remember the last time she was this mad. Oof, I don’t want to stay for this.’ Grem slowly returns to the bar. She needs another drink, preferably stiffer than the last.

Trusted Informer

Feb-8-2013 01:17

Lawliettine nearly spilled her whisky at the suddenness of it all. No it wasn't the gunshots, she got shot at all the time while solving cases. No, it wasn't the yelling and cursing in different languages, she'd had killers and suspects call her worse names. No it wasn't the fierce factional rivalry, that was part and parcel of being a detective.

Neither was it the sight of Dave and Elizabeth, who respectively looked exhausted and furious. Solid detectives were resilient and could overcome even the most sudden of shocks. Well, usually.

It was the fleeting flash of Grem's fangs as she'd reacted to the gunshots, and the astonishing speed with which she'd run for the door of the bar. Lawliettine returned to her drink and took a swig, regaining her composure in seconds. A curious smile found its way onto her face. A vampire, eh? And a beautiful one too. Now that wasn't something she encountered often in her line of work. No wonder she's felt a strange empathy with the newcomer.

As Grem returned looking paler than before, Lawliettine smiled and shrugged with apologetic helplessness.

"Oh you look like you definitely could do with a refill. But not the one you're having. A Bloody Mary, perhaps?"

This was followed by another small giggle. "I'm sorry, I know my puns are terrible."

Washed Up Punter

Feb-9-2013 00:06

Grem nestles herself back into the bar seat. With all the commotion, common goers fled inside the Tricky Mister to seek haven from the gunshots. Lawliettine remains poised as before, as if the whole scene and the world could not make this woman look startled. That is, if she is the shape shifter she claims she is…escaping danger is something she is probably used to. The situation probably did not even raise goose bumps on her skin.

She offers Grem a Bloody Mary. Grem tenses slightly. In her reaction to the gunshots, she had lost her composure and forgot that she wasn’t in a dark alley way but the noisy dim lit Tricky Mister. ‘I made a big mistake…’ she curses silently to herself.

As a red drink with celery stock appears in front of her, thoughts race through her mind. Calm down, Grem. Keep the conversation going and away from yourself.
“Thank you.” Grem raises her glass as Lawliettine raises hers. “干杯…Ganbei. (cheers).”

The two ladies sip their drinks. Grem did not want to admit that learning English had taken years, and her grasp on the language is not completely perfect. The understand she lacks are puns and idioms. Puns, what are those? “Oh, no. I think your puns look very stunning.”

Awkward silence.

“Lawliettine, is this your true form?”
And then Grem realizes the insult in the question. “I mean to say that you are very beautiful ...but your previous statements have taken my curiosity. This is the first time I have met a sleuth of your kind.”

It has been quite a long time since she had been back in Shanghai, it has been quite some time since she had seen her vampires. Loneliness is a sad affair, especially when you are away from your home.

Trusted Informer

Feb-10-2013 04:46

Lawliettine noticed the very slight tense movements in the other lady. It was understandable, life as a vigilante vampire was probably more worrisome than a desk job filing crime reports. She took a sip and rested her cheek on one hand.

"That's the most intelligent question I've heard in a while, Grem. You're probably an excellent investigator. You have good instincts and ask the right questions at the right time."

A slight tilt of the wrist, that made the ice cubes clink against the glass.

"To be honest, which I have been from the very beginning, I'm an actor. This is my true form, for this is the one I chose to adorn and identify with most of the time. As an actor I must learn to observe and emulate the character perfectly. The physical appearance is, well, just the outside. So is the voice, which as to be perfect."

Another sip. Longer this time.

"Imagine a combination of Dave's body and Elizabeth's feisty Portuguese tongue. Or a combination of that fat balding man's body, and your swift grace."

The bartender just happened to overhear that last bit, and raised his head in very slight and somewhat disbelieving curiosity. Not missing a beat, Lawliettine turned and grinned at him. "Awful, right Cyrus?"

"You bet." Cyrus shrugged and returned to minding his own business.

Lawliettine turned to Grem, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"And sometimes, I'm just a prankster at heart. I sensed a little...unpleasantness between you, and that man over there at the back."

She wiggled an index finger in Shady's direction, and leaned a little closer.

"Imagine if that scumbag extortionist were to crawl of this noisy hole and go for a walk down some sunny bend. And then he'd run into....himself."

Washed Up Punter

Feb-10-2013 12:56

A smile creeps onto Grem’s face. She takes a bite out of the ice in her drink, and pushes the glass away.

“I think…he would learn not to make threats to detectives trying to get the job done.”

She turns again towards Shady, whom this time has had enough drinks for the Tricky Mister to swallow him whole.

“Though, I think this job should wait until he has enough time to recognize that it’s not a drunk illusion.”

She turns back to Lawliettine.

The crowd at Tricky Mister is starting to die down to the last handful of people. Cyrus’ footsteps on the wood flooring echoed and bounced off the walls. Dave and Elizabeth are huddled in a corner. Elizabeth has calmed down by down, Dave on the other hand seems unsatisfied. Perhaps the information from the Cosa Nostra lackey was not what he was looking for. Grem makes a mental note to visit Isabella in the morning and see what all this bounty stuff is about.

Cyrus’ not so subtle hint that he wanted to wrap it up and go home, loudly cleaning glasses at the sink. Even Shady looked up in the direction of the clinking glasses and water running before plopping his head back into his arms. Grem reaches her cash in her pocket and sets the price of the devil’s juice on the counter. This ought to give her a bit more time to wrap up this wonderful idea.

“I’m sure you are familiar with when that despicable man decides to sober up. How about we meet up again here at the time he crawls out tomorrow? I’m sure we can teach him a lesson or two.”

Cyrus is now loudly of counting the money in the register, almost time to close shop. Grem reaches for the pen she keeps in her back pocket, and a half used napkin two seats away. She scribbles her number and address for the dingy studio she is currently residing in. She seldom lives IN the place, but that is where she let herself be found. By those she trusts, and those she lures.

“It seems Cyrus is wrapping up for the night.”She murmurs.

Washed Up Punter

Feb-10-2013 12:58

Grem glances as the two sleuths in the corner drink their glasses clean. Red faced and sweating sorrows, the two slump out... this isn’t the last time she is going to see the two. New York is in no shortage of detectives, but it is sparse with those that are among the best.

“If you ever need to reach me, I can be found here. Who knows, maybe the two of us can put our brains together some day. It was a real pleasure to meet...someone like you.” She pushes the napkin toward Lawliettine.

“I’ll be seeing you.” With Cyrus’ back turned Grem blurs out the door.

Washed Up Punter

Feb-10-2013 13:49

Eleventh Avenue was about 8 blocks from 34th Street, Grem reaches Empire Heights in the time it would take someone to walk two blocks. Her speed was enhanced, but by no means the fastest. She is still a young vampire and would take decades, maybe a century before she could match the speeds of the middle aged vampires. She rounds the corner and walked to the front doors of Empire Heights. The doorman finds it peculiar that Grem has never approached the building in any other way than the two corners. He opens the door for her, she nods in his direction.

Grem watches as he turns his back towards the police sirens and drunkards moving past the street. She pushes the squeaky door to the stairway open. Grem blurs up 14 flights of stairs, who needs the elevator that only works half the time? From where she is standing when she reached the 14th floor, the daily goings of her neighbors at this hour are audible. The baby in 1410 is giving the late night colic wails. The Italian couple in 1403 was making love, as usual…And of course the low murmurs of the late night show luring the old man in 1405. She could also see that the door to 1414 was left open. That is her studio.

All the noise around her is filtered out, almost as if white noise of the TV in 1405. Grem places one foot in front of another and heads towards her studio. If she was still alive, her heartbeat would be racing and the cold sweat would be clinging to her neck. Alas, she does not feel the bodily functions but the emotional feeling is there.

Grem reaches 1410, and puts her back against the wall, hoping that the baby crying masks the squeaks of the floorboards. The night in the hallway chooses that moment to dim. She passes 1412 and listens intently for any sign of life in her studio. Nothing.

1414. She takes a deep breath and kicks the door in. Nothing. No one. The prescience in this area is as empty as the studio itself. The lights are on, but nothing touched. Grem narrows her eyes.

Washed Up Punter

Feb-10-2013 13:50

Someone was here and maybe still is here. She shuts the door quietly behind her, and flicks the lights off. She blurs to the bathroom, no one. She blurs to the bedroom and stops in her tracks. Isabella’s associates, arms crossed, half nervous and half determined to look tough. Grem could intimidate these two easily but for the sake of her loyalty to Isabella, and as current Consigliere she does not.

“What do you want?”

They obviously wanted to go up higher on the hierarchy. Grem guesses that Isabella wants to talk about something serious, but did not want to lose her caporegime or soldiers. Associates come and go, easily disposable.

The first one decides to speak, mumbling a bit and stuttering.

“The Dona demands to know why you quit the murder case of Riolo child. You know that the Riolo family are friends of the Santanelli.”

THAT case. The murder of Mario Riolo turned into a cold case. Even as a vampire, with the evidence she had in front of her turned up nothing.

“I told Isabella that the trail went cold. What, did my standing go down so much that she wants to take away my title as Consigliere?” Grem sneered.

She didn't need to intimidate, but she was annoyed that they were bringing up that case again.

Washed Up Punter

Feb-10-2013 14:25

The second one spoke up, he feels a bit confident as he starts to think this woman is not as scary as the higher rankings think she is.

“The Dona’s orders. The Dona needs to know it is murder in the family or murder from a rival family. Either you solve this murder or you lose your connections with La Cosa Nostra.”

Grem’s eyes narrow and she feels angry. She did not depend on La Cosa Nostra, but their organization was particularly helpful in advancing the interests of the group of vampires she associates herself with. Losing her title in the organization was a loss she can take, but losing all the connections is a huge hit.

“Is Isabella aware that I could just rip throats out if she does this to me?” She growls.

She can smell the sweat on the second associate beginning to trickle.

“The Dona is aware of your…abilities. The Dona is also aware that our services are of use to you.”

Grem bares her fangs. She really didn’t have a choice now. The two tremble and hug each other. These two were not meant to be in the mafia.

“How dare you two come here to MY DWELLINGS and try to speak to me this way?! I AM YOUR CONSIGLIERE.”

She can smell urine leaking down their undergarments. Sigh. Better wrap it up quickly before it gets on her carpet. She picks one associate up with both hands and lifts him into the air and pushes him into a wall.

“You tell Isabella that I will do my best, but no promises. You two are nothing but knife concealing shrimps in cheap imitation suits. Stay out of the mafia.” She growls and drops him.


The two pick themselves up and scrambles out the door, tripping along the way.

“No cops!” they cry on their way out.

Grem retracts her fangs. She sits on the floor and crumples her face in frustration. Not getting the NYPD involved would make solving the murder harder. Getting information out of mafia families is more difficult than it sounds. The members are stupidly dedicated, all the way to the dirt.

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