The Furry Forums
Creative Arts and Media => Roleplay => Fun RP => Topic started by: Rayleonarde on November 05, 2017, 07:31:05 AM
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On the far side of town, where the neon and concrete give way to cozy grassland and dirt paths, the impressive Blackburn Manor stands quite alone in it's opulence. A gated road leads into the aggressively walled-in yard, where cars of all sorts are parked on or near the drive. Furs of all sorts, but all wealthy, dismounted with the helpful paws of the staff and headed inside.
The foyer, packed to the gills with coats, is a hub of activity. The help moved from place to place, helping party-goers to hang their coats and don their costumes. Once inside, the remaining Blackburn family sat at an elegant table set upon the dais of the grand staircase.
At the head of the table sits Edwin "Eddie" Blackburn, an aged, purple raccoon in a pressed-black suit. His age shows in his wrinkled face and tired eyes. In his gnarled paws is the beautiful silver cane.
On the right Edwin sits Ronald "Ronnie" Blackburn, the massive firstborn of Edwin. Standing at six foot eight inches, Ronnie's suit barely contains him in any capacity. His warm smile disguises his ruthless nature, something he obtained from his father. Many rings adorn Ronnie's massive paws.
Beside, and dwarfed by, Ronnie is Jayce Blackburn, the spitting image of his father. Jayce's face is always bearing a look of disdain, as he oozes villiany. He'd rather be making money than at the party.
To the right of Jayce is his wife, Evalin Sanders-Blackburn, a beautiful vixen with obvious cosmetic surgery, something her husband pays for. She's quiet, but just as cunning and vile as Jayce.
On the left of Edwin sits his only daughter, Valentine "Val" Blackburn. Her slim, yet toned figure disguises her tenacious and good-hearted nature. The beautiful blue evening dress she wears is a gift from her father. Upon her finger rests a simple silver band.
On the left of Valentine, and the last at the table, is Rayleonarde "Ray" Blackburn. His white suit stands out against his father's. A single gold band sits upon his ring finger, something that Ray constantly fidgets with as he gazes longingly at it with a worn, sad expression.
Edwin stands, shaking slightly.
"I'm glad you could all make it here," he says with a smile. "I'm afraid I may not make it to next years festivities." He laughs quietly, which nets him a gentle paw on the shoulder from Ronnie.
After a moment, Edwin continues. "Friends, family...let's not dwell on sad facts. Let's let the festivities begin!"
The party is set to go all night, well into the next morning. There's enough food and drink to make a buffet cry. The music, a mix of new jams and old hits, is sure to please anyone attending.
However, as the party hits full-swing, the power goes out. A scream in the dark, a thud, and the power comes back. Everyone's accounted for, even Edwin's corpse! The patriarch of the Blackburns lays in a pool of his own blood, throat slashed from ear to ear. His children, obviously shocked, were all around the body. Only the close friends and relatives stayed, the less-connected patrons have all left. It seems no-ones sure who did the killing.
~----~
You've been called in, as you have before, to investigate the murder. The police have cordoned the area and kept the remaining patrons inside, but no leads have come up.
Question everyone; someone has to know what happened.
((Thanks to Hunter, who brought this to my attention. This is open for any and all.))
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Hunter Karloff, Private Investigator, walked up towards the imposing gates of Blackburn Manor. The place was usually a beautifully striking image of idyllic paradise, but in the dark of night surrounded by uniformed officers and police cruisers, as well as the usual pack of media vultures, it cut a more sinister figure.
As usual, the department had found itself stumped and in need of Hunter's expertise when it came to murder. He received an urgent call from the chief of police only ten minutes prior, and had rushed to the scene. Hunter was always eager for a difficult puzzle to take a crack at, however this one was particularly intriguing. The frantic message from the chief had informed him that the victim was none other than Edwin Blackburn, the distinguished and aging patriarch of the illustrious Blackburn family. This was a chance to not only unravel a murder, but to finally dig into the secrets of one of the most powerful families in this city. Hunter imagined it would be quite interesting.
As he drew closer to the cordoned-off police line, Hunter was confronted by one of the boys in blue. However, once he peeled back the collar of his long, black trench coat and revealed his face more clearly, the officer waved him on. Hunter had been called in often enough to be recognizable to the homocide department.
Finally, Hunter swiftly made his way through the Manor's entranceway and had one of the officers on duty lead him to the scene of the crime. He was itching to start interviewing the guests confined in the next room and collect testimonies while they were fresh, but first things must come first. Testimony did not rot away quite as fast as murder victims. He drew a pair of disposable sanitary gloves from one of the many concealed pockets within his coat and prepared to examine the body of the unfortunate raccoon lying in a pool of his own blood on the otherwise-pristine marble flooring.
It was obvious at a glance that old Edwin had been cut apart with some sharp weapon, likely a knife. Hunter bent and took a closer look at the body, attempting to determine a relative time of death, more details about the nature of the murder weapon, and examine Edwin's person for anything out of place.
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The cut across Edwin's throat was deep, clean and precise. His face, even though his throat was slashed, was completely clean. Besides, of course, the wine in the corner of his mouth. Something shone beneath the old raccoon.
Ronnie and Ray walked out, towards the dining area.
Jayce and Evalin had moved upstairs, towards Edwin's personal smoking room.
The other patrons dispersed about the manor.
Something shone briefly in a nearby potted plant.
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From his examination of the knife wound, Hunter determined that the blade used to do Edwin in must be decently sized and well-sharpened. It seemed unlikely that a wound of this depth could have been made with a pocket knife or other small blade. The precise shape of the wound also suggested that the murderer was fairly comfortable with knifework, and was able to keep a steady hand while carrying out Edwin's murder. He drew a notepad and pen out of one of his inner coat pockets and jotted those details down. The relative cleanliness of Edwin's face, despite the widespread bloodsplatter pattern from his wound, stuck out immediately. At a guess, Hunter figured that the killer must have held their arm or another object of some kind over Edwin's face in order to muffle his screams, and thereby blocked the splashback from the wound. This suggested that the murderer might still be carrying a tell-tale bloodstain on their person, if they weren't quick enough to dispose of it before the police arrived. He wrote down "blood on arm or object?" into his notebook and closed it, slipping it and his pen back into the correct pocket.
Suddenly, a glimmer beneath Edwin's blood-splattered fur caught his eye. Hunter bent down again and shifted the body, attempting to move the glimmering object out from under it.
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The shining object happened to be a key, silver and polished. Elegant metalwork made up the end of the key, perhaps signifying a matching lock.
Edwin's corpse held no further evidence.
Though much quieter, the music turned back on. A quiet easy-listening tune played over the manor's speaker system.
There was some muffled arguing coming from up stairs.
Hushed chatter echoed from the dining room.
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Hunter wiped off the blood and loose fur that clung to the little silver key and slipped it into one of his coat's endless supply of pockets. Then he disposed of the soiled gloves in a nearby trash can.
Hushed voices issued from inside the dining room, and his ears perked up as he strained to catch some of the dialogue, to no effect. He decided it was time to make some headway on testimonials, before the witnesses' memories faded or the killer had time to eliminate any incriminating evidence.
He proceeded toward the hushed conversation and pulled open the elegantly carved dining room doors.
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Ronnie stood beside Ray, who had been holding his head in his paws and shaking slightly. Ray looked even more disheveled than before, especially the red droplets on the lapel of his white suit. A tipped over wine-glass lays abandoned nearby, a little bit of the claret still resting in the bow of the glass.
Two strangers, a tall stoat and a small otter, were chatting in the corner. Their hushed tones made it difficult to hear, but one said something about Edwin's will and testament. They held simple glasses, half-filled and frosty.
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The mention of a last will and testament from the two guests in the corner caught Hunter's attention, however he made an effort to keep his interest concealed and did not so much as glance at the pair. Hopefully they would continue their discussion and he could catch a little more without alerting them to the potential for eavesdropping.
Instead, he focused his attention on the two Blackburn brothers a short distance from him. Ray's wild-eyed stare and the blood stains on his jacket suggested he was rather close for comfort when the killer struck Edwin down. Either that, or he was making an effort to appear distraught after carrying out a murder. Whatever the reason, his testimony and Ronnie's would be vital to this case.
"Gentleman, I apologize for disturbing you in your moment of grief, but may I ask you a few questions about the incident you just witnessed?" Hunter worded things as carefully as possible, making an effort not to upset either one and make them uncooperative.
"I understand you've already been questioned tonight, however there is always some duplication of such things in order to ensure a cohesive body of evidence. Your cooperation will be most useful to our investigation."
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Ray looked up at Ronnie, they both nodded, and Ronnie stepped away. Not out of the room, but farther down the table.
Ray sighed heavily, and began fidgeting with his ring. "I-I didn't kill my dad. I had one o-of my fits and spilled a little wine on my suit. I-I wasn't even in the room, I-I was vomiting...in the bathroom." He looked up at Hunter, eyes bloodshot and watery. "B-Besides, I don't have anything to gain in his death."
The stoat-otter pair stepped out of the room as Ray started, closing the door quietly behind them.
Ronnie nodded. "I can vouch for Ray. I had to bust th' bathroom open, y'can check th' door if yer feelin' froggy."
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"I understand. Don't worry, I'm not accusing you of murder, I'm simply collecting the facts." Hunter reassured Ray calmly.
Up close now, he could see that the droplets on Ray's suit were definitely too dark to be blood, and more than likely came from the nearby overturned wineglass as he had said. As for the story about the bathroom, he would definitely check on the door later.
"Even though you were in the bathroom, did you notice anything strange or perhaps hear any odd noises in the time leading up to the crime?" Hunter questioned. "Same to you, Ronnie. Anything strange or anything that you might want to report?"
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Ronnie shook his head, after thinking for a moment. "Mom...nah, not really. Jayce was sayin' somethin' 'bout Dad's will-and. Then the lights went out. S'ppose you should ask 'im."
Ray also shook his head. "Ronnie's right. Jayce's the only one that knew about the will. 'Sides, his ice-queen's got better eyesight in the dark. She probably saw the whole thing."
The arguing upstairs spiked up for just a moment, before dying back down.
A couple of guests had by now taken up somewhere or something to sleep on. Some partied too hard while one or two had just gotten tired.
The clock struck 11. A large grandfather clock sang out from somewhere in the mansion, loud enough to be heard from just about anywhere. The brass bell sang out warm tones, and faded into silence.
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"Alright well, thank you for your cooperation. I think I'll take your advice and interview those two soon. If you'll excuse me, I ought to move on so I can get through everything I need to look into tonight." Hunter then turned and headed towards the door that the otter and stoat had exited through.
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As Hunter stepped through the door way, he would reveal the otter standing alone and minus a cup. Now in close proximity, it was obvious that the otter was female. A dark blue streak bisected her short, spiked hair. Her face, homely yet serene, broke into a warm smile as Hunter appeared. Her dress was modest, maroon and cream striped with a lace running down both arms and up her neck.
It was painfully obvious she had been eavesdropping on the detective's conversation with Ray.
"D-Detective. My oh my are we glad you're on the case," she said, her voice reminiscent to that of a stereotypical southern midwife.
The stoat was nowhere to be seen for the moment.
Chairs scooted around briefly in the dining room, and a door quietly opened and closed.
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Hunter smiled and feigned ignorance about the otter's eavesdropping. He hadn't discussed any information that was all that sensitive, and it wouldn't help him to have her on guard and worried about getting in trouble with the police.
"That's good to hear." He replied. "Miss...sorry I didn't catch your name?" He inquired. "Were you also one of the attending guests at the time of the incident? If you'll spare a few minutes, I'd like to collect your testimony about tonight's events."
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"Anne. Anne Pondsa," the little she-otter said with a smile. "As for that, ugh...awful business. I'm not sure what happened. I was over by the buffet table with my fiancé when the lights went out."
A few moments passed before the tall stoat returned, carrying two half-filled glasses. He stopped a few feet away, not wanting to interrupt the detective.
The music kicked over, the speakers playing Frank Sinatra's 'Funny Valentine'.
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Hunter jotted down her name and the details of her statement in his notepad.
"Miss Pondsa, I don't mean to pry into private conversations, but I believe I heard you and your friend over there talking about Edwin's last will and testament earlier. It seems to keep coming up in my investigation. Do you know of any connection between that will and the circumstances of Edwin's death?"
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Anne briefly looked over her shoulder. "Oh," she said with a giggle, "that's Enrik. We were talking...well gossiping, about how Valentine said she didn't know if Edwin had a will." She idly scratched the back of her left paw. "It's strange, really. If anyone would know about it, it would be Valentine. She was Edwin's closest."
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"His closest, you say?" Hunter remarked with interest. "Do you mean to say that some of his children were distant from him, then?"
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"Zats right, Deetective," Enrik said as he approached. "Edvin loved 'is daughtair more zan ze boys."
Anne nodded. "She's the youngest, I think. Valentine's probably one to talk to, now that I think about it. But anyway. Jayce and Ronnie are normally super busy, and Ray's still in therapy after his fiancé died." Anne's voice dropped to a whisper. "Some say Edwin had her killed because he didn't like her father. But that's just rumor."
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"Well, that's one dark rumor to have floating around," Hunter remarked. "I think I have a better picture of the family dynamics at play here. Thank you." Hunter looked pensive for a moment, contemplating the web of possible motives that was opening up before him.
"This has all been very useful information," Hunter said as he began to tuck away his notepad. "However, I must move on and interview the rest of the guests. Anne, Enrik, thank you for your time and please do let me know if you think of any more details pertinent to the case."
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The pair nodded, and went back to their gossiping.
Someone started up karaoke, and a woman started singing along to Katy Perry's "Firework".
The central foyer had been emptied of people, leaving Edwin's body. Bagged up in black plastic, the corpse awaited removal.
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Hunter began traveling towards the source of the karaoke, wondering who would have occasion to blast inspirational Katy Perry music at a time like this. He kept his eyes peeled on the way, trying to create a mental map of the mansion and its many stairways and corridors as he went along.
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Hunter would find that, by referencing his mental map, a lot of the hallways lead back into more hallways. Like the building was designed like a maze. Every once in awhile there would be an odd marking on the facade. It wasn't a common character, nor was it a normal marking. They seemed old, ancient even. Perhaps one of the old servants would know more.
The karaoke room, which was actually a spare den, had several people inside. They had taken seats around scattered about card tables, either conversing amongst themselves, watching the karaoke performance, or eating some of the left overs (of which there was plenty).
The woman on stage was Valentine Blackburn. Though saddened by her father's death, she was never one to let a party die.
Across the room, a silhouetted figure watched from the doorway.
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During his journey to the den, Hunter drew a rough sketch of each strange marking he came across into his notepad, for future reference. He then stepped inside the karaoke room.
Although Hunter was eager to interview Valentine Blackburn after all he had heard about about her, he decided it would be unwise to call attention to himself by abruptly cutting her performance short. Instead, he slunk nonchalantly across the room, keeping an ear out for interesting tidbits of conversation coming from the tables scattered around him.
He began to approach the figure in the room's far doorway, attempting to make out who it was.
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Most of the table-side conversations were of the murder.
One of the guests got up, and by the beckoning paw of Valentine, joined her for a duet, singing along to 'Ain't We Got Fun'.
The figure in the door way spotted Hunter and slunk back out of the doorway. The door was not closed, and there were no footfalls from the hallway.
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Hunter pursued the figure through the doorway, glancing back and forth to discover which way it had gone.
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The hallway would, surprisingly, be completely empty. Aside from a few paintings and busts.
Someone whispered in Hunter's ear. The voice, low and gravelly, drew long and hard on 'S' sounds.
"Looking for ssssomeone, Detective?"
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Hunter jumped, startled, and whipped around to face the voice's direction.
"H-hello! Uh.." he stumbled. Recovering from the momentary surprise, Hunter calmed down and spoke more clearly. "In fact, I was looking for Valentine Blackburn, however she's occupied at the moment. Hunter eyed the stranger guardedly. "I noticed you in the doorway, and I'd like to ask you a few questions about tonight's events while I wait for Miss Blackburn to steo down from the stage."
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The wall behind Hunter seemed to approach him a moment. The protrusion then shimmered and warped, until it was replaced by a well-dressed chameleon. "I'm sssorry for the sssurprise, Detective. I thought you were the killer come for me." He chuckled, and offered his three-appendaged claw. "Adreav Borsh. And I'd be happy to ansswer ssome quesstions."
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"Well, I apologize for the confusion then," Hunter said, offering his paw in return to the chameleon's gesture. "What makes you think the killer would be after you, Mr..." Hunter looked at the lizard expectantly, waiting for him to give his name.
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Andrev chuckled. "Please, Andreav will do. As for the killer, I mean, look at poor Edwin. Ssslaughtered in hisss own home. Who knows when the killer's gonna go again." He shook his head, casting his gaze to the ground. "Bad bussinesss that." One of Andreav's eyes rolled to look at Hunter, the other eye still downcast.
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"Hmm...so you you think the killer may have another victim in mind for tonight?" Hunter thought it over in his mind. He knew the police were keeping officers stationed all around the manor to keep things in order, but perhaps that would not be enough to dissuade the killer from striking again, if they had a goal which involved more dead guests. He might have to have a word with the chief of police about tightening security for the rest of the night. And the sooner he caught the perp, the better for everyone.
"Well, Andrev, where were you at the time of the murder earlier tonight? Did you see or hear anything strange at that time?"
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At this Andreav tapping a claw to his pursed lips. "Trade sssecret, Detective. A magician doesn't reveal his tricks, eh?" The chameleon suddenly vanished and was quickly lost.
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Hunter stared for a few moments, dumbfounded, at what was now just an empty hallway.
He shook his head and walked back towards the karaoke room. That chameleon was profoundly suspicious. Someone with the ability to disappear and reappear at a moments notice, and who also refused to discuss his whereabouts at the time of the murder. It didn't take an expert detective to piece those two clues together.
As Hunter returned to the den, he looked around for Valentine Blackburn.
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Valentine was dismounting the stage as Hunter returned. She took a seat on the left side of the room, sitting with a couple friends. She genuinely seemed happy.
The karaoke stage was quickly occupied by a single man, who started up 'Take On Me' by A-ha.
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Hunter stepped over to Valentine's table, a little saddened that he would have to ruin her good mood by reminding her of the murder. However, it was more important to make progress on the case, and it seemed that Valentine may hold the answers he desperately needed.
"Hello, Miss Valentine Blackburn," Hunter began. "My name is Hunter Karloff, and I am the detective that was called in to investigate the scene here tonight." He looked contrite. "I apologize for forcing you away from your friends, but would you step outside with me for a moment to answer some questions?"
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Valentine nodded. "O-Oh sure, sure." She stood, a few inches shorter than Hunter. After leading the detective out of the room, she spoke with a smile. "How can I help, Detective Karloff?" Though normally stoic, it was obvious she was nervous and upset. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, and wringed her paws in front of herself.
The karaoke kept going strong, though it seemed to slow after Valentine left.
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"Thank you for your cooperation. I'll try to make the questions quick and simple, so you can get back to the other guests, " he said, smiling in a way that he hoped was reassuring. He didn't want her to be on edge while trying to remember important details.
"Firstly, where were you exactly at the time of the incident? And, did you see or hear anything strange around that time?"
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Valentine nodded, inhaling and exhaling slowly. "O-Okay. I was... just to the left of my father. The lights went out... a-and someone rushed from my l-left. I-I actually h-have a cut from when they drew their knife." She lifted her right arm, revealing a cut across her arm, and the slash through the long sleeve of her dress. "I didn't r-realize it until I had gathered m-myself." Visibly shaken, Valentine brought her arms around herself.
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Hunter wrote down what she said. "Thank you, this will be extremely important in catching the perpetrator and keeping everyone safe. You're monumentally strong for being able to discuss it."
Those were not merely empty words of comfort, either. Knowing the direction the killer came from would narrow the suspect list down by half if he could get a list of everyone's position at the table. Additionally, the cut on her arm meant that the killer likely couldn't see well in the dark, since he clumsily cut one of the guests on the way to his victim.
"Alright, now I know its very difficult to think about these kinds of details, but do you remember hearing anything that might help in identifying the killer? Did he speak or have and odd kind of step, for example?
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Valentine nodded shakily. "T-The m-murderer...he uh...I-I think...Yeah...the cologne t-they wore w-was strong. A-And they w-walked with a slight limp."
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Hunter's eyes sparked with intense interest. This was perfect! Not only did he know the killer's side of the table, he now had a good list of distinct traits that he could use to profile them.
On his note book pad he had written:
-Poor/Average night vision
-Heavy cologne
-Limp
-table left side
If Valentine's testimony was reliable, he was starting to truly narrow down the suspect list. He needed to interview all the other guests that had been in the dining room at the time of the crime, especially those seated in the left side of the room.
Before he could move on to that and let Valentine go, however, there was one burning question he needed to try and answer.
"Again, thank you very much. You have no idea how much these details could help with the case. I only have one more question." He watched her closely, making sure she was stable enough to take a little bit more interrogation. "I know this may be a personal subject, but I've heard some guests mentioning your father's will, and its mysterious absence. I was wondering if you have any information about Mr. Blackburn's will and its connection to tonight."
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Valentine laughed, sniffed, and wiped her eyes. "O-Oh, that silly thing. I-I didn't know t-the specifics of the w-will until Jayce told me. I-I've not seen i-it myself." She sighed and shook her head. "Maybe Jayce would-"
Just then, gunfire erupted from the basement. Fourteen shots from two different guns, low caliber firearms judging by the noise. Though, what their intent was is unclear.
A few of the servants started towards the basement, carrying empty steel buckets.
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Hunter whirled around, shocked by the sudden noises of gunfire. As servants carrying metal buckets streamed past him, he attempted to grab one by the arm. "What's going on? What was that gunfire?"
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The servant shrugged, as the smell of cordite and gunpowder permeated the air. "I think Mister Giuseppe and Master Ronald are making use of the gun range? We were heading down to inspect and clean, if you wish to follow us, sir."
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Hunter sighed in relief. Not another attack, then, as he had feared. He turned to Valentine and offered a quick goodbye. "I think you've answered all the questions I had for you. Thanks for your time, I hope I didn't upset you too much."
With that, he turned back to the servant and decided to take him up on his offer. "I'll want to follow you down, yes."
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The servant nodded, and led Hunter to the basement. The tang of cordite and gunpowder hung thickly in the air. In one lane stood Ronnie, holding a smoking pistol. In the other, a stranger held an unchambered revolver. They were both wearing shooting gear.
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Hunter stepped forward into the room, the sour-tasting air hitting his nostrils and causing him to blink rapidly or a few moments before getting used to it.
"I wasn't aware that this mansion had a shooting gallery," Hunter said, striding towards Ronnie. "Would you mind if I fired off a few rounds, too?" he asked politely. "I see you have some spare sets of ear muffs in the back."
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"Dad's got a lot of secrets down here," Ronnie said with a chuckle. "S'why all the kids got different keys." The large raccoon removed his earmuffs, and hands them to Hunter. "G'head. If y'got a wheel-gun, put yer spents in the bucket."
Giuseppe, a rat, stood in his lane, dropping the spent cartridges in a bucket. He wore a slightly tattered coat atop a well-kept suit. He spoke up. "'Tective. 'Ow goes 'eh' 'vestigation?"