Amelia nods at Gar. "Not every murder has an understood motive, I'm quite certain that the crazy people have motives, they are simply motives we do not understand. However, as trying to track down a murderer with no clues who kills people at complete and utter random is an exercise in futility, I suggest we assume there was a reason for the murder that is understandable by us, and that we proceed from that assumption. If we exhaust all leads, we can move on to randomly accosting toddlers to see if they try to slash us with their rattles." She dimples, showing the last sentence is a joke.
Amelia looks over the list that Elliomander produces, and nods. "If I might suggest, I'd think we should try Mr. William Horton, of 43b Butcher's Terrace. Primus, he was doing work for him as a favour, indicating they may know each other well, as everyone else paid. And Secundus, Mr. Hieronymous Suisse, of 43a Butcher's Terrace, is next door, and we can thus mark off two of our potential sources in rapid succession. And Tertius, considering the crime scene, Butcher's Terrace seems oddly right to be the first stop to make."
Mama Frill smiles and nods at Amelia. "Sounds like you've got a clever plan, pumpkin. Mr. Horton sounds like a fine place to start. If we are trying to keep a low profile, it might be a good idea to keep your daughter hidden away. She's a bit much to sweet talk someone, seems like."
Amelia gives Frill a startled look, and then begins to laugh. Truly laugh, and can't seem to stop laughing, she just holds her sides and dissolves into laughter in the chair, unable to talk.
Frill was confused. She didn't understand humans very well, but she wanted to appear to understand, so she threw her head back and began cackling as well. It made for a strange scene.
they're both mad...
Elliomander chuckles at the scene. "So..." he begins, hoping to curb the hysterics, "we gonna head out or what?"
Amelia wipes the tears from her eyes. "Oh my, that was funny... Lilly my daughter... No one has ever said that before." She nods at Elliomander. "Certainly, and after this morning, a good laugh is a good thing. A good omen for the rest of our day, let us hope."
When Amelia asks Inspector Muncy to share his thoughts on the crime scene, he frowns, "I'm afraid, Amelia my dear, that what you've seen in there is everything... there's nothing else. 'Old Bill' didn't have any 'acquaintances' as far as I have been able to tell. I think he must have scraped a living together by doing odd jobs for folks - there's a couple of names in there... oh..." Muncy nods when he sees that Elliomander has already found the names attached to the knives. "As for witnesses, well... look around". The semi-derelict building in which 'Old Bill' met his end is virtually alone amongst the ramshackle warehouse and tumbledown wrecks that make up this nigh-on abandoned tenement - it's very clear that no-one else lives around here.
"The sweepers who found him... they saw nothing of note, I mean you wouldn't expect to see anyone around at such an early hour. They knew 'Old Bill' by sight... but never really spoke to him. I guess I might have missed something in my questions to them. Maybe you might find something worthwhile by talking to them but it'll have to wait until tomorrow - they knocked off work after I finished questioning them".
...when Amelia brings up the previous case Muncy becomes quite defensive, "I'm not sure I can help you... I was only a young constable just started on the streets, I was there in the early hours of the crime scene - long enough for it to leave a lasting impression. I followed the investigation that followed, as best as I could from my rank at the time, and it was clear that it had the Watch baffled. There's nothing else to say... I'm sorry".
"If you want to look at the crime scene again before the Watch come in and trample all over it, I'd do it in the next few hours. I've pulled a few strings and bought you some time - you should have a good few hours before the afternoon shift shows up here", Inspector Muncy places the bowler firmly upon his nearly bald pate and strides along the street whistling a chipper tune jarringly discordant with the gruesome crime scene that he has just left.
His whistling stops as Vera catches up with him... Muncy frowns, "It's true, I've seen worse than that horror show... I guess it was just the similarity to that murder in my first years on the Watch - it makes you think, you know? Makes a man wonder what he's done with his life". He shrugs, pulls his coat tight and bids Vera farewell...
"Amelia, are there any former watchmen you have professional connections with?" Elliomander asks after Muncy's out of earshot, "Maybe we could learn more about the old murder from them? I know a couple current officers, but they're the type who'd keep their mouths shut about something that'd been swept on the rug..."
Amelia nods. "I'll go in and go over the room again..." Before the group heads to the bar to discuss next steps, she will pull Lilly back out and the two of them will go over the room with a fine tooth comb. Not touching the blood, but searching the body as best they can without disturbing the evidence, the walls, the floorboards, under the bed, in the attic, etc.
Amelia looks thoughtful. "Not explicitly, however, I can ask around the Guild, quite a few of the guild members are former city guard, someone might remember the case, it should have stuck out in their mind. I'll see what I can do..."
Whilst Vera chases after Muncy, Amelia turns on her heel and ducks back through the low doorway into the building. Standing amidst the chaos of the murder scene and with 'Old Bill's' dead eyes lifelessly staring at her, Amelia pulls Lilly from whatever dark place it is that the phantom resides... moving through the two rooms that make up the dwelling, Lilly sees nothing new until...
...seemingly abandoned under the low slung bed-frame and beneath a pile of rough-spun woollen blankets, an old chest... not particularly ornate in construction, its lock and hinges are rusted shut.
"Ace, there's an old chest under here, rusted shut. I'll see what's in the f*@#$$#&r." The small spirit informs her soul companion, and carefully touches it with incorporeal fingers. If it's not magically sealed against ethereal touches, she pokes her eyes through the side of the chest to look inside.
"Ok lovely, but be careful."
Moving through the chest, Lilly sees a small collection of loose leaf paper... somewhat yellowed and curled by age. It looks like the paper has been used to make handwritten notes but, without the ability to manipulate the paper, it isn't possible to tell what has been written. Also, at the bottom of the chest, beneath all of the paper is a small gear mechanism... again, without being able to move it, Lilly can't tell whether it is part of the chest or merely a loose item.
The chest isn't particularly large, and could be lifted and carried in one hand... as for traps, there is nothing obvious.
Amelia carefully retrieves the chest in that case. "We'll deal with it under controlled conditions." She carefully places it in her pack, rather than carry it openly. Then she retrieves Lilly.
-----------------------
"Lilly was able to find a small chest with papers and an odd gear in it, but it's very old, rusted shut. Perhaps even 20 years old..." She comments dryly. "Inspector Muncy took Lilly's lockpicks away after he found a dead snake in his desk drawer I'm afraid, so she couldn't pick the lock to see what was in inside other than that." She winces suddenly. "Lilly insists I tell you that the snake was alive when she put it in the desk. Apparently she doesn't want you to think she mistreats animals. In any event, does anyone have experience getting into locked chests? And some oil might be helpful as well."
Vera's and Muncy's whispered converstaion occurs at least a dozen yards down the alley from the crime scene. She stares the Inspector in the eye for a moment longer than most people would be comfortable with, as if making several silent assessments. Inhaling sharply, she breaks her gaze and states, "Well, Insepector, I can see that you don't want to tell me what's really on your mind about this case. I am going to trust that your secret won't have bearing on the successful resolution of this case. If you change your mind, you know where to find me. Good day to you, sir!"
She then rejoins the rest of the group at Old Bill's bloody apartment and continues searching the place for any additional clues.
* * *
At the bar...
Vera raises an eyebrow at Ameila's revelation. "I have some amount of skill at opening locks without a key..." She looks around the bar, assessing whether it would be prudent to undertake such a task here, or if she should take it back to her office.
"Gettin' something like this away from pryin' eyes might be best," Gar offers, sensing Vera's reluctance. "'Sides, any time now this street'll be crawling with Watch hounds, asking questions and whatnot. Anybody got a safe spot?"
He climbs to his feet, stretching his hands over his head and yawning. "I hate mornings. Anyway, if it can't be picked, looks like it could be broken." He smiles pleasantly, yet that somehow does little to improve his gruff demeanor.
"Lilly should be able to assist with your task, I assume having someone who can see the inside of the lock while you're picking it would be of benefit." Amelia smiles softly. "Assuming you can put up with her salty language."
"Let's head back to my office and try it there..."
Elliomander debates offering up the workshop at his store but is relieved when Vera offers her office first. Pulling down the brim of his hat to obscure his face, he follows the others out of the bar and towards their next destination.
Lilly, moving around the building one final time, finds nothing of any further interest and so, deciding to take the chest somewhere it can be examined in relative quiet, Amelia brings the chest out into the cold morning air. Despite Muncy's assurances that the group would have more time to examine the scene, a squad of constables is already arriving as Gar leads his new associates to the Slaughtered Doe... they look, with some suspicion, at the group as they walk away from the crime scene - but make no challenge.
At the bar, the group take some time to discuss what they have noted so far; the locked chest, the list of Old Bill's customers and Inspector Muncy's demeanour. Examining the chest, it is fairly obvious that it can be unlocked... and, when the group get one too many interested glances from the other early-morning clientele of the 'Doe', Vera suggests that they decamp to her premises - somewhere where the right tools for the job are available, and furthermore, somewhere they can work unobserved.
It is around ten o'clock in the morning by the time the group arrive at Vera's, the frigid morning air long-sinced replaced by an unpleasantly warm... and, evidenced by the smell, windless... day. Placing the chest on a workbench, and with her new colleagues watching, Vera sets to work... Clamped within a vice, and with oils liberally drizzled into the locking mechanism, Vera soon cranks the lid of the chest open...
As predicted by Lilly, the chest does indeed contain a collection of loose leaf papers... and below them, a polished gear mechanism - the mechanism, which shows some signs of having been worked upon, has a tag tied around it. Examining the papers, again scrawled with Old Bill's terrible script, reveals that they are receipts for items that could not be worked upon in situ. Separating the receipts out on the bench and examining them reveals that the tickets were written over thirty years ago for people with unfamiliar names or for businesses that closed down decades ago.
...with the exception of a single receipt issued to Eustus Grindlylow of 'Grindlylow’s Grinders' for repairs to a gear mechanism; the same gear mechanism that was stowed at the bottom of the chest.
RECEET — ISSUED BY OLD BILL
REPAIR — 1 GEAR MECHANISM
MAIN GEAR A TERTIARY TOGGLE SWITCH 20 PILASTERS
TO — EUSTUS GRINDLYLOW, GRINDLYLOW’S GRINDERS
"Grindylows is still in business..." Elliomander offer, "not far from here actually. Can I take a closer look at the gear? Sometimes there are clues to its purpose..." Turning the gear over and around he inspects it for any sign at all of what it might be designed for
Perception
Frill kept looking over her shoulder as the group walked to Vera's. "I'm telling you, Millie. Something's watching us. I can't see it, but Mama feels what Mama feels. Mama's feelings are always right. Pumpkins, best you all be aware, someone or something's paying us particular attention. Don't feel completely natural either..."
Amelia nods. "Yes, something is watching us." She comments, and her eyes go black as she begins to scan the area after chanting something in a singsong voice.
"That is odd, why would he keep those in a chest, for 20 or 30 years. The receipts are all old enough to date from the time between that of the serial killer, no one mention his name if you don't want Lilly upset, or of the death of the previous Baby Shoe Killer victim. Mr. Ostarian, do you have any chemicals that can reveal hidden writing?" She taps the receipts experimentally, and also casts Detect Magic and Read Magic on the lot of it, just in case.
Gar's hand reaches instinctively for the handle of his sword as an uneasiness begins to creep over him. It begins at the top of his head, wending its way down his skull to the back of his neck, then crawling and whispering down his spine to rest fitfully in the pit of his stomach. He opens his palm before him, actively seeking out the evil he knows is rife in the city. He swallows thickly, keeps stomping through the mud, says nothing.
At least, not until Mama voices a similar concern. "I feel it too," he says gruffly. "The eyes of the city's watchin', and somethin' tells me they ain't smilin'."
At Vera's, therefore, Gar pauses at the door. "Figure I'll stand watch outside, in case we're bein' followed. Last thing we need's a sadistic, murderous kid crashin' the ball." He says this with a grim attempt at humor, though probably no one finds it funny.
"The city is always watching..." Elliomander answers grimly as he fidgets with his hat.
Elliomander frowns a bit at Amelia's request. "Each invisible ink requires a specific reagent... some advanced ones are so unique they require the blood of a specific individual to reveal... if there is invisible writing I might be able to unlock it but I'd need an hour or so to work on it... and some luck..."
The group, aware that they are being watched, use various methods - beyond simply looking - to try to determine whose... or what's... attention that they have piqued. Reaching out in the aether, feeling for the presence of evil or the living dead, there is nothing there... And so, discomfited by the whole situation, Gar offers to stand sentry outside Vera's place whilst the group examine the chest.
Looking for the arcane in the papers that have been seemingly abandoned within the chest, Amelia finds nothing of interest... whilst Elliomander, cautiously inspecting the gear mechanism, determines that it is a fairly mundane piece of equipment; almost certainly used for modulating the speed of rotation for some type of industrial equipment - a wheel, a circular saw, a turntable... it is impossible to tell...
"I believe we should probably have The Violet Lady examine the papers and gear, before we go question the current owner of the gear works. It might give us some answers, but it will cost us a few gold. For those who do not know of her, she is a Psychomitrist. She can read the past from objects."
The Violet Lady is a Psychomytrist of some repute working out of rented space above a low-end abbatoir - her reputation for reading objects is renowned throughout the city and rumours abound that she is paid a retainer by the Office of the Watch for her services - rumours that, in the spirit of showing some solidarity with the lowly folk of East Ending - and maintaining the steady stream of folk with hopes pinned to various items of reclaimed junk, she strenuously denies.
"Well children, it seems there are several options for us to start investigating. Perhaps it's better for a few of us to divide up so we can get through them quicker? How do you all feel about it?"
Increasingly cautious as the feeling of being watched continues to prickle at their necks, Elliomander and Vera take a handful of Old Bill's receipts back to the Ostarian Alchymist property. With early afternoon crowds hampering their progress along the winding streets of the city, it takes longer than expected to reach their destination... and the whole way there, the stares that they draw are difficult to judge - the eagerness to sell something, the predatory eyes of the thief, information-mongers... or something else?
Finally back at Elliomander's, the door is firmly shut... and Elliomander can get to work...
Stalking back along the streets towards the less desirable side of East Ending, the strange group - Gar, the scythe carrying Amelia and, scurrying alongside them, the gnome-like Mama Frill - head towards 'The Violet Lady'. Smelling, and worse still, hearing it before they see it, the group arrive at 'The End', the ironically named slaughterhouse... and, if you know what you are looking for, a faded sign pointing clients up a rickety staircase and to 'The Violet Lady'.
Clambering the steps, a voice calls out before Gar knocks the door, "Come in my dear... and your friends".
When the group enters, they find a room done up in shades of purple, violet, and gold. And at first, it may seems that no one is home. Until the scenery begins to move.
The Violet Lady, who has been in the East Ending for decades, doesn't look her age. Her Tiefling (or is it full on half-demon/devil?) blood has stood her good stead over the decades. Violet skin, violet horns, and violet and gold clothing, it makes it hard to tell where her skin stops and clothes begin, and where both of those end and the furniture takes up. The large bat like wings on her back move softly as she sits up straight.
Amelia smiles. "Violet Lady, as always, it is good to see you haven't aged a day." Given her own aging issues, it is indeed good to see someone else she's known for 5 or 10 years that hasn't aged. "I do hope you are available? We have some items we would like to have assensced to determine their origins and importance." She tilts her head, and grins. "Just between us, the good Muncy is 'perturbed' enough to call in strangers on a case, so it should be of interest to you as well."
"What the--"" Gar pauses with his knuckles barely grazing the door.
"How'd she know we were comin'?" he asks no one in particular. Just as important, who's "my dear"?
He stands awkwardly near the door as Amelia makes introductions, considering unsheathing his sword, until the violet vixen offers him a cushioned seat.
He wonders what other creatures live in Amelia's menagerie of acquaintances.
"Well now, aren't you just something all right," Frill says to the tiefling in all it's internal majesty. "Don't worry, sweetie, Mama knows more than to judge a book by its cover. We appreciate you taking the time to see us."
Elliomander leads Vera down a back alley and through a sturdy but unassuming door into the workshop of 'Smoke and Powder', a fairly well-known purveyor of black powder and alchemical items. He gathers some materials and sets them on the workbench before a pale-skinned, raven-haired woman bursts in.
"Lio, what are you up to back here," she asks, "and who's your friend?"
"I'm doing a favor for someone, and this is Vera- she's helping," he answers somewhat curtly. "Vera, this is my sister."
The alchemist's sister gives a quick curtsy before continuing, "you're not helping that frightful Lord Hargraves again are you?"
"The watch," he replies flatly.
"Oh, ok" she answers with some relief, "have fun..."
Amelia takes a seat, leaning her scythe against the wall. The three visitors stick out in the room like a sore thumb, given their clothing and the room's purple nature. While most would take the purple and gold room to be the height of vanity on the Lady's part, Amelia has come to realize it's more about survival. In the dim light, The Lady blends into the room's decor, making it harder to see any subtle movements she makes. Wheras Amelia's dark clothing sticks out and makes any movement she makes much more obvious. Gar and Mama Frill even more so.
"While I'm sure you already know my companions, I formally introduce Master Gar, formerly Brother Gar, and now a probationary member of the Guild of Bountyhunters. And this dear one is Mama Frill, something of a local myth who turned out to be real, The Dread Rat of East End."
The winding streets between Vera's premises and Elliomander's shop, 'Smoke and Powder', are unusually busy during the early afternoon... a fact that is even more surprising given the particular pungency of the great river today. Keeping their heads down and moving with purpose, the pair still get that prickly feeling of being watched... yet, when they do look around, there is no-one other than the normal street traders, pedlars, vagrants and other assorted folk of East-Ending - and, if anyone of those is paying them any interest, it is almost certainly with a view to either selling them something or pressing them for spare coins.
Finally arriving at Elliomander's shop, the pair make their way into the back rooms where, despite the cloying heat of the day, they elect to work behind closed doors... spreading out the papers across his workbench, the alchymist selects a range of reagents, unguents and oils with which to check the receipts for hidden messages. Spreading the liquids and powders across the aged paper, Elliomander and Vera settle down to watch for changes... and, some three hours later, having applied heat, pressure and further salves... they are still left with nothing more than Old Bill's terrible scrawl...
The Violet Lady smiles when Amelia introduces her associates - a smile that is both warm and, as her point-sharp teeth become visible, her customary warning to her clients - that she is in control, "Gar... enchanted to meet you... and Mama Frill? I had heard talk..." The Violet Lady, if she has another name - she has never revealed it, smiles at Mama Frill, "And tell me... how does it feel to be a local myth?"
Turning her attention back to Amelia, the Violet Lady frowns, "And a Good Afternoon to yourself as well Lily"... and then, straight into business, "Amelia, you say you have something that you want me to look at? You've got yourself involved with the Watch... and you think something's bothering Muncy? Intriguing... Come on then sweetness... show me what you've got".
"Lilly says hello to you as well, and wants me to ask if there's anyone you want to make garters out of." She gives a grin, letting the joke hide her amusement at Lady Violet's sudden turn of interest. She had suspected that dropping Muncy's name and discomforture would get the Lady interested. She wasn't entirely sure why The Lady was so interested in Muncy, although she had some suspicions, of course, but it was useful to get her hard to get time.
She takes the small chest and hands it over to the Lady. "We found this chest, locked and sealed with rust, hidden under the bed of someone who was no longer concerned with it, or anything else. Even Lilly was impressed with the.. care.. shown to the former owner." She raises an eyebrow, to give The Lady an idea of how grisly the murder had been, without actually speaking about it, to keep her unspoken word to Muncy about not giving out details. "We were hoping you might provide some insight on these items. The gear, the papers. We took a few papers out to see if there were hidden messages, on the off chance, we don't expect any. We suspect the gear may be the important thing in the chest, but brought the papers as well just in case." She hands the chest over. "I think we might want to start with the gear, knowing what it was part of might help us. If there's nothing important about it, then we can leave the chest with you to examine the papers tomorrow?" The major limitation to The Lady's time was that she could only use her special abilities once per day.
The Violet Lady takes the chest and drags it across the table towards her... she runs her fingers along the edges and corners of the box, running her tongue along the points of her teeth as she does so... the effect is unsettlingly lascivious, "This chest... it tells of one life walked along two paths. I see a man, lowly born and never raised high. He treads the streets of Castorhage, a pauper trapped by his birth to never see beyond the walls of the Blight... his life is one of servitude, of petty tasks for copper coin and favour".
Setting the chest to one side, the tiefling leafs through the receipts and, closing her eyes, turns the gear mechanism over and over in her hands... as she does so, she murmurs to herself almost as if to reassure herself. There is a small amount of anxiety in her voice as she continues, "Knives... I can hear the sound of knives... metal grinding against stone, slapped against leather... cutting against flesh and through bone... the knives, he loved them... the man who owned this chest lived for his knives". The Violet Lady suddenly stops, a quizzical look wrinkling her features... she runs her fingers across the gear mechanism... and then, as if she is confirming something to herself, across the chest as well. And then, pushing all of the items back towards Amelia, she apologises, "I'm sorry my dear... but the man who owned these has been dead some thirty year or so I would say".
"Well, the strange thing seems that this was found in the home of someone that has only just recently passed on to the other side. He did seem to love his knives, however. Those knives were turned against him in the end, my dear. And that's why we are here, of course.". Mama was going to respond to the psychic's friendly banter, but hearing her strange theories led the ratfolk to stick to the business at hand.
Amelia looks perplexed, and then her head jerks upright, and her eyes widen. "Dead 30 years you say? My my, you said 30 or so, would it happen to be, say, closer to 20 years? And if we bring you something tomorrow, could you reserve us your time tomorrow as well? I think I may have an idea. For if you saw correctly, and I have no doubt you did, then I believe that we may be investigating the wrong murder. Or rather, we may not be investigating a murder at all..."
"Twenty, Thirty, Maybe even Forty year at a push... the energies are faded - sometimes, for a life lived well, the echoes of that life will stay vibrant for centuries... but for one who has trudged through the mire their entire years, the energies are weak and fade fast", The Violet Lady relaxes back into her seat... portraying an impression of merging into the walls and furnishing of the place. "Tomorrow? Yes my dear... I shall be here as I always am".
Nodding towards Gar and Mama Frill, "It was pleasant to make your acquaintance... and, if I may? A word to the wise... when the Office of the Watch call in civilians to do their work, it means that it is 'dirty work'... danger lies ahead of you".
"Why My Lady, of course it's dirty work. That's what makes it profitable. Danger always pays well." She pauses thoughtfully. "Well, it's likely more accurate to say that good pay is always dangerous, as sometimes danger doesn't pay well either."
Gar frowns disapprovingly as Frill and Amelia seem to buy into the woman's clear con.
Violet Vixen, was it? Sounds like a vigilante!"
He knew that such powers as these existed, of course. The septons had been using them for centuries. He himself had been gifted with an ounce of such power in order to pursue the church's aims. But he knew the true source of these powers, and it didn't come from heavy incense and dim lighting, nor from soft candles and mysterious theatrics.
The power to peer into the heart and mind of another was a gift from the gods. From his God. And there was only one way to receive it, the septons were clear on that. It required the sacrifice of one's own flesh, to suffer the rod and whip and to supplicate oneself completely before the power of Ragathiel in a perfect unity of agony and humility.
Vengeance turned first toward the sins and the weakness of one's own flesh. He thinks the familiar refrain to himself.
He snorts as the "reading" wraps up. "Well now, we have what we came for? The light's fading, if we didn't notice. Hey Lady, what d'we owe ya for the seance?"
As they're stepping out the door, though, he wonders again how she knew they were coming.
At the Smoke and Powder...
After several hours of fruitless work with Elliomander at making the invisible visible, Vera sits back in her chair and exhales sharply. "I think it's safe to conclude that there are no messages written in invisible ink. As unscientific as mediums may be, I hope our colleagues are having better luck conferring with a psychic."
As Gar, Amelia and Mama Frill make their farewells, with a promise to return the next day, the Violet Lady - possibly sensing Gar's scepticism - waives her normal fee. "You owe me nothing for today my dear... a little gossip about our mutual acquaintance Muncy is quite enough... and tomorrow my avenging angels, bring me more stories of the force". With Gar still oblivious to the mystery of the Violet Lady's Seeing, the group make their way out into the early evening sun...
With darkness falling, Amelia and Gar meet with one of Amelia's guild associates... standing beneath the burning lamp at the corner of Silversmith's Lane and the Northern Road, as he always does at this time of day, is the cloaked figure of Rhodero 'Whispers' Jones. Nodding at Amelia as she takes a position nearby... members of the guild are rarely seen together on the streets of Castorhage... he muses aloud to himself as to what a young girl and her friend might possibly want information about.
Ten minutes later, as Jones saunters away along the Northern Road, there is a small note wedged into the ironwork of the lamp... casually pulling the note free, Amelia opens it. It simply suggests 'Windrayke, The Queen's Own'.
Amelia tucks the note into her the top of her dress, and then offers to take Gar's arm as they walk to the shop of Mr. O. She makes sure that Mama is following along in the shadows.
Once at the shop, and everyone is inside, she makes sure the door is closed and locked, and the curtains drawn, before she fills the other two in on what the purple lady said.
"I have an idea, but I want to know what you think based on what we were told. I haven't given my thoughts to Gar or Mama yet either, I don't want to prejudice what anyone might think up on their own. Once you've thought about it, I'll speak my mind on my idea."
"Well, that's hardly surprising," Elliomander answers with a sigh, "I knew invisible ink was a long shot. Better safe than sorry, though... I guess. You want to head back to your office so we can met up with the others and see if they had any luck with the psychic?"
Know. Local
When Mama rejoined the other two, and was told about the note, she scratched her chin for a second..."Ah, the Queen's Own?! That a tavern out on Town Bridge. A lot of off duty Officers of the Watch make that almost a second home."
She turns to Amelia. "Honestly, sweet, I don't think we know enough to even harbor a guess about what happened so far. I think we need more digging, and keep putting the pieces together. Right, Millie?". As she speaks, she pats her robes, and out pokes the head of a decently sized rat. It hops up on the table and Mama fished in her haversack, pulling out a stinky piece of half molded cheese, feeding the familiar.