A deeper investigation

[mancalledspade]

It's been a little over a week, and to Spade's knowledge, the young Victorian Alan Campbell (so identified, the typist is presuming, ala Richard Carstone - by his calling cards) has not yet returned to the land of the living. His concrete clues having led to nothing, Spade's asking around more or less at random - people who knew Campbell, people

Comments

[mad_leprechaun]

Sweeney knew him and he was more than a little surprised to see him again.

"Holy fuck, you ain't fucken gone yet?"

[mancalledspade]

"Hey, Sweeney. Been awhile."

[mad_leprechaun]

"You ain't kidding. Thought you were heading out to Cali, man."

[mancalledspade]

"I went for a week or so. But I missed your gorgeous mug, and found myself back again."

[inmywardrobe]

Professor Kirke is feeling amiable today and can be found sitting in one of the main room's many corners, smoking.

[mancalledspade]

"Hey there." Spade approaches him. "Can I have a word?"

[inmywardrobe]

"Of course. You can have several, if you like." He smiles and sits back, waiting.

[mancalledspade]

"My name's Spade. Don't believe we've met."

[terisaofmorgan]

Serious or not, he gets glomped by a red-head. Normally, she'd not do any such thing, but she'd gotten fond of Sam in her brief encounters with him. She's read his books so she knows he's safe by her standards. "Where have you been?" If one didn't know Terisa, one might think she were scolding him.

[mancalledspade]

He blinks. "Around, sweetheart. How are you?"

[terisaofmorgan]

"I'm good." She looks down. "I missed you."

[mancalledspade]

"Hey. Sorry, kid. What've you been doing, meantime?"

[sweariwontdie]

With s amall frown, Armand approaches Spade. "What has happened now?"

[mancalledspade]

"Another murder, I'm afraid."

[sweariwontdie]

Armand grimaces and rubs his eyes. "Who was it this time?"

[mancalledspade]

"A man named Alan Campbell. You happen to know him?"

[allartisuseless]

Dorian has been, of course, deeply concerned over Alan's death. Truly he has. Afterall, if someone could slaughter Alan so easily, could they not do the same to him. So here is Dorian, standing in the library, scuffing his shoe across the dried blood on the floor -- or at least, where it used to be, if some mysterious personage has cleaned it away.

Typist: Sorry about that! D: Typo'd ;_;

[mancalledspade]

"Hey," said Spade, taking a drag of his cigarette. "Missing something?"

[allartisuseless]

Dorian sighed, not looking up. "My friend died here. I miss him, that's all." He raised his head after a moment, putting on a sorrowful face.

[mancalledspade]

"You mean Mr. Campbell?"