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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.


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.

Washed Up Punter

Feb-10-2013 14:27

She places her face in her hands as she thinks back to when she was first approached with the case. The body of Maria Riolo was found butchered to pieces, with signs of torture on her limbs. An informant of the La Cosa Nostra found the body in his beat. The Riolo and Santanelli families paid off their informant.

Isabella had assumed too much of Grem’s abilities, she thinks that Grem could pick up the scent of the murderer or murderers on the girl and head in that direction. Unfortunately for Isabella and Grem, her abilities did not work that well. Enhanced sense of smell is one of the perks of being a vampire, but the combination of her vampire age and that she is not a dog meant she could not use it to that extent. She also thinks Grem can turn into any creature and spy on the family. The only creature Grem can shift into is a bat, and there aren't many bats in Riolo territory.

All she can really do now is to try to find a new lead .

Trusted Informer

Feb-11-2013 07:39

(Just for now, RP b/w me and Grem)

Lawliettine smiles sincerely as she watches the other detective leave for the night. She wishes Cyrus a good night and despite her immense dislike for Shady, wishes him as well. Predictably the scumbag lifts his head and stares at her blearily, as if unable to comprehend why a victim of his extortion would ever wish him well. She shrugs and leaves the bar.


Daisy Ming twirls a lock of curly sunny blond hair around the finger of her left hand, as she suspiciously eyes the poised young woman perched on the edge of her brand new orange sofa. Lawliettine can't help but notice the expensive looking green bracelet on the woman's left wrist. She's seen one just like it. When she'd found a picture of Mr. Ming's secretary in the dead man's office drawer.

"That's a lovely bracelet, Mrs. Ming," she enquires. "Sorry for departing from this little interview, but I must ask where you got it. I'm not in the city for very long, and I'd like to take on back with me."

Daisy hides her wrist instinctively and glares. "Are we done yet, or this interrogation turning into a jewellery shopping spree?"

Lawliettine smiles, having noted the reaction. "Not shopping really, Mrs. Ming. Anyhow, just to go over the facts once more and then I'll leave you. Day before yesterday was the last you saw your husband? You asked him to join you for dinner at the new restaurant? But he never showed up?"

"Yes, yes and yes. For the 2nd time."

Satisfied, Lawliettine stands up. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Ming." She smiles charmingly. "I'm a little new around here, so I'd have asked you what was good in the restaurant, but I don't want to impose any longer. Perhaps I'll drop over there and ask instead. Good day."

She inwardly smirks at the look of apprehension on the lady's made up face, as she steps outside.


Just as she'd suspected, nobody at the restaurant remembers a woman of Daisy's description that evening, waiting alone for her date.


Trusted Informer

Feb-12-2013 09:28

Daisy starts as there's a sudden knock on the door. Opening it just a bit, she scowls at the sight of the last person on earth that she wishes to see. Ellie, Mr. Ming's buxom young secretary, promptly sticks her foot in the doorway and pushes her way inside the house.

"Get the hell out of here, you skank," Daisy seethes, "or else you'll be out of more than just a job!"

Ellie stands her ground, fixing her gaze on the sparkling green bracelet. "Go ahead Mrs. Ming, call the cops. Let 'em see what you took from me!"

Just as she had done in the presence of that detective who'd come by earlier that day, Daisy covers her left wrist possessively.

"A man should buy jewellery for none other than his wife. And you were never his wife, you stupid skank!"

Without a moment's hesitation she moves towards to the desk and fumbles with the drawers. Ellie's breath catches in her throat as she sees in it an empty gift box roughly the size of the bracelet. Next to that is a card with her name on it in Mr. Ming's handwriting, torn out of fury. And on top of it, a photograph of herself, smeared with blood.

Seems like the unfaithful husband isn't supposed to be the only victim.

"Stop right there!" comes the sharp order. Daisy snaps her head over shoulder and drops the small box in bewilderment as she finds herself staring into the face of the second last person she wishes to see. And inexplicably, Lawliettine is wearing the same shoes as Ellie was earlier.

"W-what the hell, d-detective," she says, half in anger and half in astonishment as she slams the drawer shut. "Where on earth did that skank run off to?! And when did you come in?!"

Lawliettine's eyes are cold even as she smirks. "Simple. I tailed 'that skank' all the way to your house and hid outside while she confronted you. Too bad you scared her off with your....murderous intentions?" She nods towards the door left wide open.

(To be contd.)

Trusted Informer

Feb-12-2013 10:13

The lies come as naturally to her as they always have.

"Now please step away from the telephone while I make a call."

The next 20 minutes are unremarkable. A couple of cops arrive, who are very interested in the contents of the drawer and Daisy's absence at the wonderful new restaurant on that night. Spitting in anger and unresolved astonishment, Daisy confesses how she'd planned on doing in that skanky secretary just like she'd done her husband in. Lawliettine can't help but wince at the choice of insults.

Luckily, the real Ellie has actually been seen heading in that direction but nobody has seen the "substitute" slipping into Daisy's house. And the jilted wife herself isn't about to spill the details of that shameful little encounter, so it just happens to neatly work out for Lawliettine. Just so. She isn't always this lucky.

She looks almost sympathetic as she turns to the murderer one last time.

"If it's any consolation, that bracelet looks far better on you than it would on her."


The entire day has gone by in this rather sad, pathetic little affair. Well almost. It's only 8 in the evening, and Lawliettine shakes her head in self deprecation as she remembers that she was supposed to have met Grem that afternoon. Ah well, as intriguing as the young vampire is, there had been some dead stranger demanding her attention. Who it now transpired had been a terrible husband with a vindictive wife and a vapid secretary.

Sheesh. To think that she's lost a promising day because of this is just embarrassing. Well, now to make amends. Fishing out the crumpled napkin, she smooths it out with turquoise blue painted nails.


The doorman doesn't blink an eye as a painfully unassuming small woman in an oversized mauve sweater shuffles past. Somewhere down the empty corridor of the 14th floor, a lady in a loosely fitted yet stylish mauve sweater slows to a stop outside 1414. She waits a few seconds listening calmly, and then taps her knuckles on the door.

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