Ethel gives Phillip a quick kiss. "So glad you're safe, Phil" she breathes in his ear before pushing her way back through the crowd to where she has a view of the boats trawling the harbor.
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"If you think it's safe," she promises. "They'll stop dredging when it gets dark, or maybe we'll have found him before then. Me or Ewart or Marce. If I see Marce, do you want him for something? Should I send him by the Goblin?"
"Do you need me?" Ethel hesitates. "Maddy's pretending to have hysterics, and Almah's with her, so I'm supposed to be checking the wharf for Olin while Ewart's watching them drag the river."
Nodding at Ethel's words, Phil moves on to next steps "Well, at the first if you can see us to and into the Goblin?" noting that Ethel's the only one with keys at this minute "Oh!" She fumbles at her pockets. "I forgot." She brings out a ring of shiny new keys. "I brought them all with me. I didn't like leaving any of them behind." "Any sign of Bojasc since we parted?" "Ugh, no," she says with a shudder. "He's the reason I didn't feel safe in or out of the Goblin -- and the reason I wanted to keep all the keys with me. I wouldn't want to be alone in the building with him."
"After dark. Before midnight. The rest of them were at the Watercress. It flooded as well, all that way upriver. I wasn't with them. I couldn't decide if it would be creepier sitting in the Goblin all night all by myself or coming back to it after dark all by myself; I ended up staying in case you came back. Olin was supposed to be meeting them there, after working late, but he never showed up. We don't know if he was still in the shipyard -- there's nothing left of the workshop -- or on his way up river or crossing the Velashu or where." "Marce, yes, he showed up at the 'Cress to check on everyone. He knows about Olin, said he'd look for him. I don't know where."
"The river came in the kitchen door. Not badly, just up to my ankles. But Olin -- Olin's missing."
"Phil! Phil!" A Small figure pushes its way through the crowd toward the group. "Oh, thank Desna! I didn't know where you'd gone. I didn't know where you were when...."
Phillip: "There's a locksmith in Leeward," she offers. 'I've seen him at our old flat; he re-keys the locks in the building when someone doesn't pay their rent. I don't see why he wouldn't do the same here."
Phillip: Tension visibly ebbs away from Ethel when she sees who it is at the door. "Sure," she replies with a shrug. "Better than sitting in here hiding out from the guy who evicted me."
Phillip: "All right," she replies warily, bundling the pillow to prop her chin on, "but I'm not opening the door to anyone but you."
Phillip Hargreaves: "Oh, Phil," she smiles, "of course you're still charming. But next time you leave town," her tone is suddenly all business, "I'm not staying behind."
Phillip: "Is Old ... Is Mr. Vankaskerkin really gone?" Ethel seems conflicted as to how much respect she may still owe to Saul, his absence not yet confirmed to be permanent. "Ewart reckons he took off with the money, like he tried to when Clegg Zincher ratted him out to the bosses. Although he didn't burn the building down this time," she concludes hopefully. "Was the vault empty?"
Phillip: "So... apart from being evicted... anything interesting happen in Riddleport while I was absent?" "That's not enough? Everyone saying the place has shut down and that Old Stumpy's run off with the money?" She shakes her head. "No, I can't say I've heard of anything else unusual. What about Roderic's Cove? What did you do there?"
Phillip: "That's... I didn't...," Ethel begins crossly.
You can see that the option never even occurred to her.
Phillip: "Having to go crawling back to the flat when I'd just moved out?" she complains. "It was humiliating! Maddy's been unbearable, and Almah's been so obviously feeling sorry for me ... although I guess it takes her mind off Win and feeling sorry for herself. So what's going on? He said the Gold Goblin was shutting down."
Phillip: Almah, who followed you back to the lake, beams, pleased that calm and happiness seem to prevail; but both Olin and Ewart shake your hand with some evasive awkwardness, and Maddy's smile is tight and forced, though her actual enmity seems to be focused toward Ethel rather than you.
"Shall we abandon your ships to the storm and seek to reinvigorate your competitive eye with a drink?" "Oh, yes," she agrees, airily dismissing her abandoned stake. "I resign my commission. Let me know how the battle plays out, will you, Olin?" She lets several strides and a few curtains of people separate the pair of you from the group at the lake before her fingers press more tightly against your arm and she hisses, "Oh, Phil, that awful man threw me out!"
Phillip: "Phil!" Ethel spins around in surprise, and you can see emotions warring on her face for a moment. Then, aware of her audience, she decides to play the reunion off casually. "Are you back already?" she asks, embracing you. "That was a quick trip. Did you get your business taken care of?"
Phillip: Ethel rolls her eyes and glances at the hatch in the floor. Either she'll feel freer to have a flat-out squabble with her flatmate without an audience, or she thinks Maddy will quiet down without you around to impress. At any rate, you seem free to go as far as she's concerned.
"That's enough, Maddy!" Ethel snaps. "We all know you're jealous. You needn't be any more obvous about it."
"We were able to give them some information," Ethel replies, with a bit of an irritated edge in her voice, as she removes herself from Almah's embrace, "that pointed them in a more likely direction than a disgruntled former employee." She shoots Phil a look that clearly asks if she should tell the others about the rat-catchers or keep it to herself.
Ethel seems to share Phillip's disappointment in the dog's continued existence. When they arrive at the front door of the girls' boarding house, she asks, "Will you come up and see them, Phil? Or do you have to go?"
"Yes," Ethel answers decidedly. "They'll be glad to hear Boss Croat has another direction to look in and that it appears to have had nothing to do with me, just stingy old Betta pinching her coins too tightly. What happened to the rat dog? Did they kill it, too?" she asks a tad too cheerily.
Waiting until they are out of sight of the walls of Boss Croat's compound, Ethel offers in a low voice, "Well, that was going all right until he found out the half-elf isn't a rat-catcher. I can't imagine why he'd think he could be; the rat-catchers are all so filthy and shabby."
Making sure to lead Ethel safely onto her seat before running a hand through his hair and sitting down, Phillip responds "Aye, possibly... maybe not definitively but worth adding to the pile." turning to Ethel and with kind eyes imploring "Tell Luca what you told me last night... about who wasn't happy with not being paid." following up with a sidelong look towards Luca to read his sub-vocal cues as he hears the news about the rat-catchers. Ethel gives Phil a nervous glance before beginning with a stammer, "Well ... she wasn't paying the rat catchers. Not since she got the dog several months ago. She said it was bred to kill rats and it was cheaper to keep a dog than pay the rat catchers. And more sanitary, too, to have a dog in the shop than to have the collectors coming to her back door. They, uh, they didn't like that, but she refused to pay. Said she didn't need their services anymore."
Phil and Ethel continue on to the northeast, cutting through Leeward Common. Like the other businesses in town this morning, the market seems to be getting off to a slow start: the farmers' wagons have arrived, but few of the stalls are yet set up and stocked, nor are there many shoppers waiting impatiently. The pair take the northern road leading out of the Common and pass the Three-Billed Duck, which seems to be alone in the neighborhood both in being open and in doing a fairly brisk business. Ethel glances to the right side of the street, where the boarding house in which the girls shared the low-ceilinged attic flat stands. "I wonder how Almah and Maddy are holding up," she muses, a little guiltily. "Should we stop to see them?"
"Boss Croat's organization is supposed to be reliable," she admits slowly. "Everyone in Leeward does business with them, and I haven't heard any complaints. Should I tell them about your friend being in there with the man and the child and the woman covered with blood?"
Muttering slightly to himself about the indolence of those that allow themselves a day of rest Phil regathers and sighs "Aye, that must be it... I'd seek to wake him but there are other matters that could fill a short time at least and give us most likely a kinder reception." pausing for a few moments to ensure he has his inamorata's attention before venturing "I'd like you to come with me to see the men who are investigating Betta's death." "You mean Croat's men?" She toys with her bracelet nervously. "They won't be looking to arrest me, will they? Marce seemed to think they thought I was a suspect."
As Phillip and Ethel approach the shop, Phil spies no other customers. In fact, as they reach the door beneath the brightly-painted placard, they find it locked. "Perhaps he's not open yet," Ethel suggests. "It is Sunday." Remembering that many of the establishments he passed last Sunday after leaving the Publican had barely opened by noon, it seems likely that Riddleport businesses observe a lax standard of punctuality on their day of rest. Hassan almost certainly resides behind the storefront, however; it seems likely that a knock at the door would rouse him.
Phillip: "Oh, let's go somewhere, Phil," she answers immediately. "I'll go crazy sitting in this room all day."
Phillip: "Oh, Phil," Ethel yawns anxiously at his return. "Is everything all right? There hasn't been any more trouble, has there?"
Phillip: "I can't think of anyone who cares enough about Betta one way or another to kill her," she replies, bewildered. "Except the rat catchers, I guess; they didn't like it when she quit paying them. Maybe it was just a random attack, some drunken sailor," she concludes, clearly hoping for reassurance that the murder has nothing to do with her.
Leaving the kitchen, Phillip crosses the casino floor to the guest wing, headed for his room. Ethel answers his knock cautiously. "Is it really...?" she asks anxiously, opening the door after he identifies himself. "I mean, I suppose she's really...?"
Phillip: The telltale clink of coin from within the pouch does as much as your reassuring presence to distract Ethel from the situation. "Phil," she gasps, "this is all yours? This is enough to buy off Croat's boys even if they'd caught us standing over Betta's body with the knife."
"Be careful," she says wistfully when he bids her farewell. "If they take you into custody, send Marce here; I'm sure he'll handle the payoff to get you out."
Phillip: "What's going on?" Ethel asks anxiously. "Has Marce sent word already? Are you going to meet the half-orcs?"
Phillip: "You have to tell them about the man who came in on Fireday," Ethel insists, "and the woman covered in blood. If they knew about them, it would be obvious it was one of them that did it. He must have come back and broken in. Oh, Phillip, how awful. I never liked Betta, but I hate to think of her being murdered, poor thing."
Phillip: "But it must be that man!" Ethel insists, looking up at Phil with wide eyes. "The crazy one who kept talking about blood! He was in the shop on Fireday! Oh, Phil, thank Desna I left when I did!"
Phillip: Never has the lack of right-sized furnishings been more egregious. Ethel gasps in horror and feels around for something to collapse onto that doesn't require a stepladder or a boost.
Phillip: "Heard what?" she cries. "Marce, what is it? You're scaring me. Why is Almah panicking?"
Phillip: Ethel looks relieved at Phil's declared intention to employ a go-between. "Dressed for Free Coin, I'd look like an easy mark on the wharves, and if we dress to blend in in Wharf District, I'd have to come back and change before heading across the river."
Phillip: "Mm," she replies in the affirmative, popping a last berry into her mouth. "Ought I to dress for the evening or stay in everyday working clothes? Where are we headed?"
Phillip: "Perhaps I'll get into the House of Nabin while you're away," Ethel suggests archly. "Then I can get you in on my ticket."
Phillip: "Aye, so you must be happy to have the schoolmarm dress then." She quirks a sardonic eyebrow. "Thrilled," she smirks. "Should I wear it out tonight so I can have my dagger close at hand? Or shall I trust in you to defend me for now and just wear it the whole time you're away and I'm left to my own devices?"
Phillip: "Did you manage to snare Almah at her luncheon?" "Mm," she nods. "She thinks we can make it work with a heavy enough skirt, but a light summery fabric won't conceal the dagger."
Phillip: "Funny I didn't get a hint of 'oh, hey, I'm leaving town for a while, maybe you should wait and quit your job when I get back so you're not sitting around all by yourself with nothing to do,'" she grouses, more reprovingly than in anger.
Phillip: "Well, I would have said just go on with my normal life and wait for you to come back," she replies a little sharply. "Only I quit my job because I thought I'd be working to help you!" She shoots him an accusing glance. "What would we have been doing if you weren't going to Roderic's Cove? Is there something I can do, somewhere to go, somebody or something I can try to overhear or find out about? I can't just sit around the flat and hope you come back."
Phillip: "And what should I do while you're gone?" Ethel asks. "I can't just sit around and wait, hoping you come back."
Phillip: "And if it doesn't go well? How long will you be gone then?" she asks with a touch of panic, like a woman who just quit her job and then had her boyfriend tell her he was leaving town.
Phillip: Ethel is taken aback. "You're leaving Riddleport?"
Phillip: "So need I pay for the priviledge with the words witheld, or am I yet still high enough in your favor to be fed without lyrical waxing?" "Well, they'd have been better if they hadn't sat around all afternoon," Ethel points out practically, retrieving the packet of berries and pot of cream they'd purchased at the market earlier. "They were cool, but I doubt they're any lower than room temperature by now." She opens the pot, revealing some tell-tale juice-stained trails through the surface of the cream. "Well, I didn't see any reason why I shouldn't enjoy them while they were fresh," she makes excuse, as she sets the berries and cream on the table next to the oversized chair. "How were the fights?" she asks. "Worth sitting out in the heat? And why are you looking for an elf child? I didn't know there were elves in Riddleport, let alone any children."
"I haven't seen any children," Ethel replies. "But I've been mostly in here with the door closed."
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