M
MourningStar
Guest
Original poster
Rain pattered the cobblestone streets heavily, a dismal feel for a dismal occasion. As Cameron approached the carriage that waited for him outside 17 Poe Avenue, December's police headquarters, he pulled his hat low over his eyes, and popped his collar high, trying to keep out of the rain. As he stepped lightly into the carriage, a tinge of pity for the carriage driver struck his heart, but he brushed it quietly to the side. Everyone had their duty, himself included.
He checked his revolver, making sure it was loaded. Though the law frowned upon such means of force, he was a careful man, and trusted not a soul, especially when the victims he was chasing might yet live still.
With a crack, the carriage lurched forward, travelling dutifully towards Croft Manor, 38 Redwood Lane. He dug into his coat, and produced a small file, a dossier on the family he went to see first.
Victor Croft, the victim of a recent kidnapping, was a wealthy banker, who had many enemies. Every single one of those enemies happened to have an ironclad alibi for the night of the kidnapping, however. In his free time, Victor would visit a 'Madame Graves', a woman who claimed to allow her guests to speak with the dead. Cameron scoffed at the idea- nonsense, all of it. The man had two children. One, Sofia, and another, dead at childbirth, Baron. His wife was suspected of whoring herself out for extra funds on the side, but there was either no proof, or, Cameron suspected, police apathy. He suspected the latter to be more likely, as he'd noted that he was the only volunteer to arrive to December to investigate the kidnappings, and he was from another city entirely.
As he folded the file back, and placed it gently back into his coat, he gazed out the window, watching the city pass by him. December was unlike August, its doors darkened with shadows and its bricks worn and old. The people that walked the streets kept their eyes away from each other, tending to their own business, and even the occasional peddler didn't shout out their stock like the ones he was used to back home. Men and women alike seemed so distant from one another.
Just as he had begun to reason as to why this was, the carriage again lurched, and the horses that pulled it let out a loud whinny. Cameron pulled his hat back onto his head, and opened the carriage. He walked to the front, and patted the horses, before throwing a coin to the carriage driver. The driver tipped his hat, and thundered off, leaving the inspector alone. Utterly alone, he noticed, as the street was completely empty. He straightened his jacket, and cleared his throat, before approaching the manor, and rapping purposefully on the door. A woman, dressed in black- the wife, he assumed- opened the door. He raised his badge.
"Cameron Douglas, police inspector. I'm here to find your husband."
He checked his revolver, making sure it was loaded. Though the law frowned upon such means of force, he was a careful man, and trusted not a soul, especially when the victims he was chasing might yet live still.
With a crack, the carriage lurched forward, travelling dutifully towards Croft Manor, 38 Redwood Lane. He dug into his coat, and produced a small file, a dossier on the family he went to see first.
Victor Croft, the victim of a recent kidnapping, was a wealthy banker, who had many enemies. Every single one of those enemies happened to have an ironclad alibi for the night of the kidnapping, however. In his free time, Victor would visit a 'Madame Graves', a woman who claimed to allow her guests to speak with the dead. Cameron scoffed at the idea- nonsense, all of it. The man had two children. One, Sofia, and another, dead at childbirth, Baron. His wife was suspected of whoring herself out for extra funds on the side, but there was either no proof, or, Cameron suspected, police apathy. He suspected the latter to be more likely, as he'd noted that he was the only volunteer to arrive to December to investigate the kidnappings, and he was from another city entirely.
As he folded the file back, and placed it gently back into his coat, he gazed out the window, watching the city pass by him. December was unlike August, its doors darkened with shadows and its bricks worn and old. The people that walked the streets kept their eyes away from each other, tending to their own business, and even the occasional peddler didn't shout out their stock like the ones he was used to back home. Men and women alike seemed so distant from one another.
Just as he had begun to reason as to why this was, the carriage again lurched, and the horses that pulled it let out a loud whinny. Cameron pulled his hat back onto his head, and opened the carriage. He walked to the front, and patted the horses, before throwing a coin to the carriage driver. The driver tipped his hat, and thundered off, leaving the inspector alone. Utterly alone, he noticed, as the street was completely empty. He straightened his jacket, and cleared his throat, before approaching the manor, and rapping purposefully on the door. A woman, dressed in black- the wife, he assumed- opened the door. He raised his badge.
"Cameron Douglas, police inspector. I'm here to find your husband."