If you were to take keep a secret watch on the house, from where will you do it, artemy? -
maybe from a house across the street? - Adrien Thinks
Will adjusts his tie in the car. He doesn't get out immediately.
"I may have an idea. Mr. Jake, am I to assume you would have the skills needed to get into that apartment? Those two in the suits. You see them? My brother wears a ponytail too. I could keep their eyes off of you for at least long enough to slip inside. Ms. Freeman, I would ask you to stay out of sight, and kindly keep an ear out for a scuffle. I'm hoping they aren't careless enough to make a mistake like that, but if they do, I'll definitely need some assistance. Or better yet, a call to the police. What do we think?" The suitman of our own plans out his suggestion, shrugging while he retrieves his sunglasses. They're big, plastic, lime green and terrible looking against his expensive blue suit.
"I've never been much of a skulker, son, but if you can keep their eyes off me for a solid minute I can probably slip in there."
"From a car is good, Adrien." Artemiy parks the car and turns off the engine a little way down the street from their target. "Of course, if one can find a good spot, a person is much smaller." He looks around and, if no one is apparent on the street, he leaves the car and begins walking up the street, hands in his pockets, just a man for a nonchalant evening stroll... who also goes around the block, trying to get a look at the house from all angles, and an eye out for good vantage points or anyone else watching.
Adrien realizes that his words were not clear enough for Artemy. Nothing he can do about it now.
Adrien spent his time trying to see if somebody around reacts to Artemy's presence in there.
Artemiy wanders around the block, circling the victim's house. Desiree House had found a nice place to live in. The grass on the front lawn is pleasantly green, even now in March. The backyard is not overly large, but spacious enough for some homely activities like BBQ feasts, or kids playing soccer. The iron fence that surrounds the plot is about 5 feet tall, giving a sense of security.
Such details may not interest Artemiy all that much, but they tell him one key word about this neighborhood: sheltered. This is the American Dream, so to speak, this is what families want their kids to grow up in. The neighborhood watch must also be pretty effective, considering that the people who live here are families with kids: people would be vigilant and notice anything out of the ordinary.
And so does Artemiy. One of the cars parked in front of House's house doesn't fit in. Almost every house here has a parking garage. In front of the houses that don't have garages sit spacious, well-maintained family cars or minivans.
The odd one out, which catches Artemiy's attention, is a dark olive Folkswagon with tinted windows. Really tinted windows. Artemiy is pretty sure that's on the territory of illegally dark windows. The Folkswagon is kind of sports-y, and probably not a family car.
Artemiy walks past the car, without paying too much attention, and simulatenously without drawing too much attention to himself. As he passes the car, he can just barely see the silhouettes of two men inside the Folkswagon. The tinted windows make it difficult to see inside, but Artemiy guesses that the men are wearing suits. And no points for guessing what two men would be doing, sitting in the car like that. The suspicions are confirmed.
Meanwhile, Adrien and Milo are seeing how the neighborhood (or potential suitmen watchers) react to Artemiy's wandering. The response is negative, it seems. The mothers are closing the curtains in their homes, peeking outside. A jogger even switches to the opposite sidewalk when he approaches the Russian man. Clearly the Russian did not go unnoticed.
Will nods "You know what to do."
Then, leaving the car, the man walks with a slight saunter by the two eating. A minute or so goes by as he plays with his glasses. His body language reads as someone trying a little too hard to be inconspicuous. Eventually, he makes his way over to the men, and sits down on the opposite side of the apartments, and begins a conversation.
"Hey, guys. How ya doin'? So... A pair of men in suits happen to wait across the street from the home of a recent murder victim for the second day in a row. My people are interested." From a slight distance his mannerisms become focused.
″abandoned nearby buildings or houses, roof tops, car's are cliche and obvious especially in little neighborhood's like this. ″ Milo fiddles with his coat barely paying much attention ″In my opinion, anyway, i mean that's how i would do it.″ he quickly adds
Adrien takes note of the suspicious car's License plate. Not much else to do here.
"Yo, we're inna lunch here if ya don't mind, so get lost," one of the suitmen, the one with the ponytail and no shades, says. Standing close to him, Will sees that the ponytailed watcher has a long scar on his neck. Time has healed it, so it must be from some time ago. The ponytail suitman seems to be in his fourties.
The other suitman, the one with the shades, who seems a bit older and more stable, puts out his hand as a sign of pacification. "He doesn't mean to be rude. We are enjoying a break from work," he gives a meaningful look to his partner, "eating a well-deserved meal. But what's the talk about murder? Is it about that Killer?"
"...Who even says 'my people', huh? Is that supposta mean ya family?" asks Ponytail as he takes a bite out of a sandwich.
Artemiy walks back to the car, and they rethink the situation.
Do you have the means to secretly investigate the license plate, Milo? - Adrien says.
″Yeah, shouldn't be a problem″
Great.Though, if the watchers are from a government agency, they probably are expecting something like that and are prepared to track whoever look for the license plates.
"Also if they are a government agency, you could just walk up to them and ask. it's law, they are required to show identification. You would just need to pretend to be from the neighborhood, it's not like it doesn't look suspicious.”
"Hm-hm, give me a moment. Echo-Romeo-Bravo Five-Five-Two..." the coworker, Ms. Poppet, thinks aloud on the phone. "That's registered to a Morris Marley. Want me to make a 4-0-0 on him?"
4-0-0 is code for "background research". Milo affirms.
"Morris Marley, age 41. Occupation: unemployed, as far as I can find. He has a criminal record, from 1999, attempted robbery of a jewelry store. He got caught, but the court was merciful because it was his first offense and he carried no weapon, and Morris only got one year of jail time. Marital status single, no kids."
"Is he a suspect? If you ask me he doesn't sound like the con artist you're pursuing."
That seems to shatter down he theory of a government involvement, thought it could be a façade-says Adrien in a reflective way
″Could just on duty or guarding someone that wouldn't be unusual with the murders, Mafia or criminal activity is also possible. ″ Milo responds back
Before I can keep going, I still need an answer to this question. Am I still trying to cover somebody? If not, there's really no reason to continue trying to talk to these guys, since I couldn't even tell they were being shifty about the obvious thing they were shifty about.
But if I am still doing the same as I previously was, I guess I should have rolled Deception, right?
Distract someone temporarily: DC 11 distracts them for a few seconds, after which they get an opposed People roll every 10 seconds to realize they’re being distracted, each time the DC of the People roll decreasing by 1.
Something seems off here. Could I have been wrong? Ah well. The less people watching the apartment, the better. I should keep going.
"A general phrase. 'My people' being a common one for an information source. Although it is interesting you bring up the killer. Lot of rumors floating about, but no-one has any idea who or what it is? We have a phantom floating around in our city. People think it's supernatural for Christ sake." Will starts chuckling at the last part. It is kind of absurd really. The realization almost strikes him mid-sentence.
"I do dig the ponytail though. I can't do anything with this after it gets to a certain point."
Artemiy returned to the car once he did his walk around, and he listens as Milo calls his coworkers to get a little more information. Useful. Unsure of what more to say, though, he frowns and looks around.
"I do not like this. It is safe here. Why are two men in suits, in a dark car, so interested? Something is happening. Something we do not yet know."
″Could be mafia or something waiting for a snatch and grab, did you by chance get a license plate number off the car? We can either wait for them to make a move or make one ourselves, votes fellas?″
While we could learn precious information investigating the house, it is too risky to proceed now since we have so little information about the watchers. I vote for withdrawing.
"'Supernatural', huh. That's funny," echoes Shades. "I thought I was living in a realistic world, but now I find myself in a blockbuster movie. Take a seat, mister, hm...?" He's asking for Will's name.
Ponytail has a subtle, wily grin on his face.
Something catches Will's attention. Ponytail has his right arm in his jacket pocket, but the shape of the pocket doesn't reflect that as it should. It's just like in the movies: he has a gun in his pocket, and is aiming directly at Will.
"Yeah, Imma metal fan. Grew my hair long,"
Ponytail says.
Oh my.
Will nods and takes the seat offered to him. He places his briefcase on his lap, more importantly covering most of his vitals. Hard thing to do inconspicuously.
With an offer of a handshake to both he replies to Shades fishing. "Johnathan Ada, it's nice to meet you two. I apologize for barging into your lunch break the way I have. Will you be by tomorrow? I'll pay to make it up to you."
"Hey hey, you may be cool enough to be polite, but I ain't gonna refuse free money--" Ponytail tries to butt in, but Shades stops him.
The mature man introduces himself. "The name's Cooper. Richard Cooper. You must be busy, Mr. Ada. I hope we can meet again some other time. We'll get going, once my friend finishes his sandwich..."
"What can I say, it's a big sandwich, ya?" But it was not a very large sandwich.
Will realizes that Jake is nowhere to be seen: he must have managed to slip in, unnoticed. Surely the two suspicious suitmen would have reacted already if they were going to. Now that he has been bid farewell, Will has a feeling that this is a good chance to leave the cafe table, and safely avoid a bullet.
A few moments later, Will's phone rings. It's Jake. He confirms that he got inside the building, and asks how things went with the watchers. He'll snoop around: Will should head home.
March 11 (Thu)
7:00
The next morning, the newspapers have an eye-catching headline: "THE POLICE FINALLY TAKE ACTION AGAINST THE KILLER"
"In yesterday's press conference, the City of Roshburg Police Department (RPD) announced that they're pursuing the series of heart attacks as a criminal case," says the article. It seems that even with the announcement, the authorities are still reluctant to talk about specifics. When a reporter asked, "How do you think the Killer is committing these crimes?", the media specialist didn't give a straight answer. But they did say something relevant: "Due to the uniqueness of the situation, the RPD has assigned a special task force for this case. We have confidence saying that if anyone can find the truth behind these deaths, it's this task force."
17:00
The secret meeting place slowly fills with the Fisher St Club members.
It seems we have competition - Say Adrien with the Newspaper in his hand - Now there are legal basis to arrests us if they catch us investigating the case.
Anyways, what did you find Mr Wesson?
"The police are finally taking action. It is good to hear honestly. The whole reason I felt we needed to be here was their lack of action."
″Honestly this is both good and bad, the killer or killers now have two groups to worry about, on the other hand this if i get caught, i lose my job, potential arrest for being a vigilante...I'll see if i can figure out what exactly they have, it might give us a lead.″
Jake shares his Wednesday's findings:
After successfully entering Herring's building unnoticed by the watchers, he headed to the Herring's apartment, and rang the doorbell. To his moderate surprise, the door was opened, by an elderly woman. Jake made up a story about being a friend of the late Lewis Herring. The woman let him in. Even though Herring had only been dead for two weeks or so, the apartment had already been handed over to the next person. Apartments in Fatman Street are in high demand due to the street's good location and the relative cheapness of the apartments, and the landlord was eager to get more rent money flowing in. At least that's what she explained.
She was Lewis's mother, Nancy Herring. She was there to move the last of Lewis's belongings to her home. She had mourned the first week and a half, and had only started the process recently.
Jake asked if there was anything out of the ordinary before he died. If he had mentioned any trouble, or any new people in his life. Jake also asked, after a bit of hesitation, about what the union man said, that Herring had skipped work a couple of times.
Nancy told Jake that something new did indeed happen in Lewis's life shortly before his death. On March 24, the day before his death, Lewis had called her and told her that he'll get to be in a magazine. Some journalist went around and took pictures of construction workers, even interviewed some of them, Lewis included. The name of the magazine was Inspire. Lewis had always been excited to be featured in media.
Nancy could only guess why Herring would have skipped work. A few months before his death Lewis had found God; maybe he was doing volunteer work for the church? Both her and Jake noted that it would be odd to skip real work to do volunteer work. Nancy, being in her 60's, was not that much part of Lewis's life, and didn't know his private life all that well.
God... - Adrien repeats from himself. -We might want to look if the other victims skipped work or also found god in the last months.
"Well, we have been presented with another option as well. We could simply offer what little we have found ourselves to the police to help their investigation and go back to our lives. To be frank, the risk of being arrested ourselves has just shot up dramatically, and the local PD will certainly have better resources than we. To continue on our own would be foolish and likely counterproductive." Will speaks in his usual even, polite tone.
"I say we wait, see what the cops can uncover, see if fbi gets called in. Let things take their own course for now. We can be ready to cross the lines officials aren't allowed to." Milo suggests, staying rather laid back
Will's advice seems wise..., I wonder what our Mysterious patron thinks about the new situation - Says Adrien and gives a short stare to mrs Silvia, silently askineg her if she can find out something about it.
Mrs Bond answers to Adrien's inquisitive look with her signature smug and fake smile.
"I wonder so too. Perhaps he can call an end to our little Club."
Following the public announcement of an assembling of an official task force, the members of Fisher St Club agree to lay off. It may not be what they would have preferred, but this was the best course of action.
Some members wisely agree to keep each others' phone numbers, and stay in touch, should anything change.
March 13 (Sat)
Two days later, the newspapers report another killing. The day earlier, on Friday, the Roshburg Killer claimed their eight victim: a male street food vendor, age 26.
This one was no different from the previous murders -- heart attack this time as well -- but the media and the public have takes this one with much more interest. A temporary shrine full of pictures and flowers has been made at the vicinity of the victim's usual spot where he sold hot dogs.
Thanks to the media attention, the name of the victim is public knowledge. Jerry Andrews.
The police have made their statements to the press, but there's nothing substantial. The task force will pursue this, they say. Hopefully with more success than so far.
March 18 (Thu)
Five days later, the newspapers have shocking headlines: a key member of the Roshburg Killer Investigations Task Force has been kidnapped.
Even those who do not subscribe to newspapers may be very tempted to purchase one today.
A text message from Mrs Bond: "Time for a meeting. Usual place, usual time."
17:00
The Fisher St Club agreed to gather, and so they do.