A MEETING OF MINDS

[thedirectors]

With clues and information in hand, you gather in the lounge room on the second floor of the Lionheart estate. The room is dimly lit, casting long shadows against the deep red walls and intricately woven carpet. Plush chairs and chaise lounges are scattered around, inviting you to take a seat. In the corner of the room is a tall grandfather clock, tick tick tick-ing the seconds away as you sit. A rotary phone sits dormant on a small serving table, waiting for someone to pick it up and call the police.

There's now the matter of the dead man and who killed him--and, surely, it must be one of your number who did the deed, as you were the last group of people to interact with him. This looks bad for everyone. The police would have a field day with this. Everyone's a suspect, and unless you want to walk out of here in handcuffs, you better make sure you pin the true culprit.

Better start talking--you don't want to be the one accused of murder, now do you?

---

This part of the murder mystery is a freeform discussion of the evidence and potential theories on whodunnit. Feel free to interject in other people's threads, accuse people, lie, cheat...whatever it takes to get the truth. You're free to also come up with whatever props one could realistically find in a lounge room. If you want to ask for any mod clarification, feel free to request it in your comment title! We'll get to it as soon as possible.

MAP | GUEST LIST | INVESTIGATION

Comments

[scouserer]

[Constantine does not hesitate to make his way to a nearby couch and sprawl out on it. His face seems permanently affixed with a smarmy grin.]

I wondered when the old man would kick the bucket. I can see the headlines now--"FILM MOGUL FATHER HAS FINAL BOW!"...or summat like that.

[He cocks his head to the side.]

So, who went and did it? I gotta 'ave the details right for my article, anyways. May as well fess up now.

[bydeadly]

Yes - let’s just ask nicely. I’m sure that’ll be just the ticket to coax our bloodthirsty killer out of hiding.

[He has no respect for you, John Constantine.]

[scouserer]

[To be fair, not a lot of people respect Constantine. He's used to it. He leers at Uncle Deadly, fishing out a packet of cigarettes from his pocket.]

Well, unless the gentleman decides to come forth, I suppose we'll have to make like all those whodunnit characters 'nd talk about what we've found, eh?

[His smile tightens as he takes out a cigarette and lights it.]

Saw you lookin' over at the bookshelf, mate. Anything to glean from Mr. Lionheart's choice in reading?

[gimmejimmy]

Cute, but publish and I sue.

[scouserer]

[A sharp laugh forces its way out of his chest.]

Sue for what? Defamation? The man's already dead!

[end_of_the_spiders_web]

[Moriarty stands up from his kneeling position, brushing himself off. He takes a second to gather his thoughts, look around the room at the others... The other suspects... And then nods his head.]

My oh my... Isn't this just a terrible tragedy? For most of us, anyway.

[He folds his arms behind his back.]

But alas, someone in this house murdered him. And thus, it stands to reason, that someone in this house had something to gain by murdering him. Even those among us without logical minds such as my own must see that, correct? [Moriarty closes his eyes.] If we can pin down who stood to gain the most by killing him, we can begin to narrow down the culprit in this case.

[The old man's mouth falls into a frown, and he opens his eyes halfway.]

And before anyone gets any ideas, I stood to gain nothing by murdering the man. I am not a member of his family nor was I close enough to him that I'd expect to get anything from his will. I am merely an old family friend. This tragedy brings me nothing but a deep pain in my heart.

[scouserer]

Right. Whatever.

[It's clear that Constantine doesn't believe Moriarty, but he rolls his eyes.]

Well, clearly, we know of two people who stand to benefit directly from all this, don't we? The kids at this party.

[end_of_the_spiders_web]

How very true. They are the most likely to benefit from this terrible tragedy.

[Moriarty shakes his head.]

But how horrible a thought... To think, one of the two children I tutored in mathematics, murdering their own father...! [He clutches his chest.] It pains me to even consider it...! But your logic is sound, Mr Constantine. Currently that is the only real lead we have.

[bydeadly]

[Deadly nods solemnly.]

I, too, was only ever a dear friend and colleague of Edgar’s. I owe as much of my career to him as I do to my own talent. And for him to invite me still, after that farce of a trial tarnished my reputation…

[He pauses to collect himself.]

…It was a gesture of trust worth honouring.

[end_of_the_spiders_web]

[Moriarty approaches Deadly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.]

Of course, old boy. I always knew you were innocent then, and I trust wholeheartedly in your innocence now.

[smithsgrove]

[The Shape hovers some distance away from everyone else, unwilling to come closer and sit near the others. He doesn't want to be here. If he had the choice, he would fade back into the shadows and take his leave.

He won't do that, of course. He is at least dimly aware of how that would look. Escaping without stating his case would practically be an admission of guilt. Or at least make him a convenient scapegoat.

It's not that he cares all that much about being a suspect. The opinions of the others are meaningless to him. But he does want someone to pay for what's happened.

Wordlessly (as always), he steps forward and places a single pill bottle on the table.]

[scouserer]

[Constantine blinks, scratching his head.]

What's that you've got there? From his nightstand?

[smithsgrove]

[A slow shake of his head.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a second bottle. This one he uncaps, and he carefully tilts it over, spilling a handful of pills on the table. He places it on its side.

The first bottle looks slightly dusty, and the other- slightly wet.

He appears agitated.]

[littlefreeloader]

[He eyes Michael, before turning to the others, in a low voice.]

You know, he originally didn't want me to go upstairs after he went up to give pops his pills. He only let me through when I said I wasn't going to go see him.

[smithsgrove]

[He stares at Damien with his eyes narrowed, clearly annoyed. Obviously Michael didn't want Damien upstairs around his father. He'd only been shouting at the man half an hour earlier.

There's no easy way for him to say as much, though, so he doesn't bother arguing the point.]

[littlefreeloader]

So can I just ask why the fuck aren't we calling the police yet? You know, get the guys actually trained to handle this shit?

[He groans, knowing that it'll likely fall on deaf ears.]

But okay, if you all want to play detective while my pop's corpse is rotting, there was a newspaper in the trash with a few articles that mention us. Something about pops banging Moriarty, Kit D. Buckett’s death, and shit about Deadly's [Said with venom in his voice.] trial. Don't know if any of this shit means anything.

[He places the newspaper on the table, but deliberately leaves out his own article.]

I also think there's a candelabra outside for some reason. I don't know if it's the murder weapon but the culprit did a shit job at hiding it.

[bydeadly]

[Deadly does a double take. Sweeping and exaggerated.]

By your...colloquialisms, do you mean to say they were speculating that your father as having an affair?

[littlefreeloader]

I mean, it seems like a lot of rumors here, but that's what they're saying.

[He places his hands in his pockets.]

Either way unless shit went extremely south I doubt he did it. He never seemed like the kind of guy who would murder pops anyway.

[scouserer]

We ain't callin' the cops just yet. Unless you wanna get arrested, too.

[He sniffs, sitting back a little in his seat.]

Hmm. Seems to line up with what I saw. I inspected the body, y'know. For the purposes of gettin' my details in the paper right and all that. Looks like he was danglin' out of bed, slumpin' forward, as if in the middle of falling. There was a pretty nasty wound on the right side of his head--bruisin', split skin, all that shit. Someone hit him hard. A heavy candelabra would do the trick for some blunt force trauma.

But...even more strangely, there was some foam comin' out of his mouth, and he looked kinda pale and sweaty. Not to mention the fact his pupils were dilated. Hands were clenched into tight fists, but he weren't holdin' nothing in his hands.

[Constantine tilts his head to the side, as if just noticing something.]

I will say, Damien, you sly little fox, you left out somethin' important. I took a peak at that newspaper in the trash too, y'know--and you didn't mention a rumor in there. One that suggests that you came back to town early to visit one of your numerous paramours.

[He raises a hand, tapping his finger against his chin as he gives Damien an unpleasant smile.]

You also mentioned before that you were gonna attend a party later, weren't you? Anyone attending that party in particular?

[littlefreeloader]

[Damien stiffens slightly, looking away from Constantine.]

God, I liked you so much better when you were talking about my exploits and not interrogating me about my own dad's murder. Besides, it doesn't matter if there was anyone I was fucking here. What the hell would that have to do with if I'm the killer?

[scouserer]

[Constantine has already gone through his cigarette when he next pipes up. He sneers, taking out another one to fill the room with more smoke.]

Sure, I'll freely admit that this man's death might make for a half-decent story. But I didn't come 'ere to off him. I was invited, same as all of you--'cept maybe the kids and big bad Mike. My instincts told me this was a party worth goin' to, and so I came.

[He crosses his arms, propping one of his legs up.]

What I reckon-- [He sniffs, scratching the stubble on his chin.] --is we still don't really know how the old man kicked th' bucket. Who was the last person who saw him, and when?

[bydeadly]

Hm.

[Deadly just has to 'hm' at that.]

Strange, you weren't on the guest list in his journal.

[scouserer]

[Constantine pauses.]

Hm? What guest list?

[smithsgrove]

["Mike" is at least a more tolerable nickname than "Mickey", all things considered.

He taps the medication bottle. The last time he saw Lionheart was when he brought this upstairs to him.]

[scouserer]

And as you've stated previously, to your knowledge, only Damien an' Ahab went upstairs. Yeah?

[He scratches his chin, looking thoughtful.]

Though--that doesn't eliminate you as a suspect, either, y'know. I saw you headin' upstairs...what was it, around 7:20 ish? Tried badgerin' you about some questions, but you blew me off.