2019-07-10 - Nothing Could Possibly Go Wrong

It's just about an hour before what most people decide as 'end of day' from a business perspective. But, Magnolia still has plenty of paperwork on her desk and she's glancing between an open file folder and her computer as she types away, transcribing whatever she sees into the open digital case file. She's got some music blasting -- '80s Hair Metal. Hello, Scorpions. There's a solid chance that anyone who opens the door to her office is going to get blasted by Rock You Like a Hurricane. Sorry, not sorry.

Having just gotten his car from the shop, Byron drives over to Magnolia's office; his fancy black Rolls Royce Wraith parked right outside. He's been 'On' all day, so when he shows up this late in the afternoon, he's still wearing his suit and tie get-up. He doesn't even need to open the office door to hear exactly what's going on inside. From what he can hear on the outside, he's already braced himself for when the door is finally swung open.

"I don't know how you can work with all this noise." He says at first in a slightly loud voice, before raising his volume just a touch, "I DON'T KNOW HOW YOU CAN WORK WITH ALL THIS NOISE."

Magnolia looks up as the second bellow cuts through her blasting noise, and she suddenly smiles at Byron. "WHAT?" She narrows her eyes at him with mock confusion. "WHAT NOISE?" But she spares him further shouting, and this time shouts, "ALEXA, TURN IT WAY DOWN." That slender speaker in the corner of her office spins up with shades of blue and then music is suddenly much more manageable. She resumes her smiling look at Byron. "Hey Ron. What's the haps?"

"I mean. That's a great song. Haven't heard it in a while." Byron says with an easy smile once the volume decreases. "Hey Mags. I heard you got some information for me?" He'll make his way to a chair and plop himself down into it, his arms spread, squaring his shoulders as each arm is placed onto each armrest of his chair. "I'm still fielding questions regarding the murder in my Apartments. Not only that, the deceased was an Addington born. I held a meeting for my tenants the other day. It's made some of them a little paranoid knowing that the husband of the deceased has been cleared, making everyone worry that the killer is still out there. And perhaps, they even may be one of their neighbors within the building. It's a bit of a mess, but i'm looking into improved security methods for the complex."

"You should listen to it more often before it becomes so old that it's like listening to Benny Goodman." There's sharp chiding in those words, but at least Magnolia offers up a smile. Then she nods at his question, and she gestures him into a chair just as he plops down. Then she blinks up at him when he gives a bit of info, and she tilts her head. "Um. Addington? Dude." Magnolia's words are not all that surprisingly toned as they should be. She's a bit on the unflappable side. So, instead she skids her wheeled chair across the room to her filing cabinet, pops it open, digs out a yellow file, and then skids back like a pro. She bounces a bit on the seat, tucking herself into her desk. "Alright, so. I started with the Gazette archives." She licks her thumb and presents Byron with an article entitled NEW NIGHTCLUB COMING TO GRAY HARBOR. It is a fluff piece about Michaels granddad opening up some nightclub. It's a photocopy of the article, and photocopied right beneath it on the same paper is an obit on the same guy-- Joseph Michaels, Sr. "Noosed himself off Stone Bridge. And his son, Joseph Michael II, inherited the estate." Then she licks out another paper and places it in front of Byron. 'Lo and behold, Joseph Michael II went and hanged himself on that very same bridge just a few years ago.

"Really? The Scorpions and Benny Goodman? That's quite the combination. Still, both create music that are inspiring." Byron starts to say, then tacking on, "In very different ways." Easing himself into the appointed chair, he leans back in a relaxed position, an arm placed upon the armrest. "You might've known her. She was Addington born. Susan Addington married Robert Lewis. Captain de la Vega tells me that her husband and her children are no longer suspects."

There's this idle look given the room, giving him something to do when Magnolia rolls her chair over to the file cabinet to collect a folder which she then presents before him. Scooting his own chair forward now to take a better look, one hand reaches for the article, his eyes quietly reading the text found there. That is then set aside for the copy of the obituary. And then yet another photocopied clipping. With a furrowed brow, he looks from one obituary to the next, before resettling his gaze back on the first article regarding the night club.

"The Stone Bridge. Now I'm wondering if we'll eventually find this Jack Michael III there at some point." His eyes lift to her as he keeps one of the photocopied articles in hand. "The last I'd seen of him, he dropped off a... box at Lilith's pawn shop." The girl that he had a thing for as a child, but then who left him (and most everyone else) at 14. "He was in really bad shape then. Smelled like the sewer and believe me, it's pretty bad down there." He knows this for whatever reason. "I will assume that this nightclub closed down at some point?"

"No, I was more meaning we're getting old. Old, Byron. Like I totally hear your joints pop when you walk around, and you've got wrinkles." Now she's just trolling him. Magnolia then crosses her arms in front of her, letting her take in this new information. The name Susan Addington is tucked away. That'll be what Magnolia looks into next. It is what Detective Jones would have done, so this detective will do the same. She shrugs her shoulders when he speculates where they might find the third of the Joseph Michaels. "Sure, maybe. I mean, wouldn't necessarily surprise me. Weird shit happens here, Ron. So, give it enough time, and it'll probably happen again. We might be seeing a cycle, or like a genetic inclination. Or maybe Joe the Second just really lost his nuts and bolts and went the same way out as Daddy." Then she softens, that little quippy exterior falling away. "Look, Ron, do you really want this? I mean, seriously... I can just chase this on my own, and you can step out, not get anymore involved. You got tons of shit going on that's good for this town, and if I keep going, I could really risk that. We could cut ties, drop the case officially, and I can just be the nosy PI that can't quit a case even if the client tells me to stop."

Reclining back against his chair, Byron's head tilts slightly to the side, eyes on Magnolia, "Harsh. I'll take that as an early birthday greeting from you." Since his birthday is coming up soon.

When Magnolia carries on about some of her theories on the Michaels family, there's this contemplative look that comes over Byron's face. He's thinking and he's thinking hard on a few ideas. "Listen, Maggie. I haven't been as open as I should with information. But that's partially because, that thing that Jack Michaels dropped off at the pawn shop? It was bad. And I don't know if I want more people exposed to it, but that said, the only way to find out what it is, where it came from and..." He shrugs his shoulders, "Why it exists in the first place, more people will need to know about it. So... I don't know if this thing, it's a ring with a very large amethyst within it. When we case that it was in was first opened, it filled everyone in the room with this feeling of desire. We wanted to touch it so badly. Some of us broke out of that and when we did, we were weighed down by this heavy feeling of dread."

His eyes now randomly look over the room as he continues the conversation, "Lilith touched it. And for about a week, she was plagued by... bad luck? Like she was cursed. The very first day, her father was beaten up by who knows. No one's seen a thing. Hank," Lilith's father and one of the town drunks, "was hospitalized and still is actually. Then various other things happened until a few day ago when Lilith's car crashed into a tree and exploded. She was hospitalized and then released recently."

He'll let that sink in, before finally adding, "These suicides committed by the Michaels, I wonder if the ring is linked to it or what. Jack Michaels wanted to get it off his hands, would take $50 for it, when the ring is worth so much more, just so he coudl get a bus ticket out of town."

Magnolia squints with overdramatic thoughtfulness at the ceiling. "Have you reached the age when we start celebrating how many years until your Deathday party?" Dark. But that's Magnolia Jones for you. Dark, sweet, and bitter-- like chocolate! At least she has one of those smiles that make all the trolling worth it. Right?

But then that all falls away when Byron hits her with some honesty. She frowns at him-- she frowns hard at him. "What did he drop off, Byron?" She hesitates before she presses a little harder. "Was it a box?" Then she is rifling through what else she has in the file on Mr. Michaels. Then she looks up when Bryon starts detailing what has happened, and her eyes fly wide. "What? Byron, why didn't you tell me this?" Then she shakes her head. She sighs as she pulls out the other files, kinda splaying them out in front of Byron. They are printouts of screenshots of Facebook. They are done with less flourish, robbed of some of the drama of presenting information to a client. "The most recent thing he put up on Facebook was just a loud claim that he was heading out of town. That was on June 29th. Before that, just about two months before that, he posted about honoring the three year anniversary of his dad's death saying he was ready and could finally open the box."

This pursed-lipped smile remains on his face, Byron's dark eyes settled on her when she goes on about deathday parties. "Magnolia Jones, don't you ever change. And hey, you're not much younger than me. Just sayin'." This is followed up by a wink to go with his now playful, not exasperated at all, smile. "And we're not close to 50 yet. I think that's when the Deathday countdown begins."

He can see that frown clearly from across the table. Really, Byron shouldn't have expected anything different after what he'd revealed. "Yes, it was a multitude of boxes. Like a box version of those Russian dolls? One inside of another. I did a read," he speaks of his mentalist powers, "On the outer most box and that's when I realized that the homeless man in Lilith's shop was a tenant in my incredibly expensive luxury apartments, so not homeless at all. In fact, his rent was paid up until the end of the month."

Here, he just has to sigh, his gaze wandering off again in an attempt to avoid eye contact as he speaks, "Because it's bad, Magnolia. Lilith was almost killed because of whatever was in that box. That Ring. Almost reminded me of... Lord of the Rings, The One Ring, only because it tries to tempt you to reach for it, to touch it. And what follows is not something that I want you or anyone else affected by."

With this new information shown to him, just the intrigue of it all has him leaning forward to better observe the printouts. "June 29th, that's the date that I had footage on him leaving his apartment. And also the day that he came into the Pawn Shop that morning to pawn off the box for money to get out of town. I wonder what happened to all of his savings, his assets, to need to pawn the ring off for a mere $50." That's when his eyes focus on the mention of Michael's father's deathday anniversay. "Happy Death Day... huh?" Those piercing eyes look at the date again. "Two months ago." He bites down on his lower lip, "I guess this box really did run in the family. An heirloom." His gaze lifts to meet with Magnolia's again, "I think Lilith is fine now. She hasn't been accident prone for the past two days, so maybe the curse has run its course. But then what?"

"I don't know. Pretty sure that Gray Harbor naturally moves that up by like ten years. So, watch out for that 40th birthday." Magnolia at least smiles brightly in the face of the wink. Then she settles her elbows down, settling into a sigh. She looks toward him after a moment of thoughtful introspection. "Alright, it's probably the boxes then, and you said it was a ring? So, she had to open all the boxes to get to the ring?" She stops, letting her thoughts settle before she asks, all that sharp humor and pleasant snark completely evaporated into something serious, something more like Nathaniel Jones. "I need to see that box, Byron. And the ring."

Now she pulls out another sheet from the folder, this one full of Magnolia's handwriting-- neat, tight cursive. "Did she stop wearing the ring?" She picks up her pen, and pops out the tip with a click of the top. She looks expectantly to Byron for answers.

Byron won't argue on the fact that, yes, living in Gray Harbor has been known to lower life expectancy. Fingers on his right hand slowly begin to drum against the armrest there as he prepares himself to answer all the questions that the P.I. is bound to throw his way. "Yes, the first box, the largest, was an ammo container. Followed by a few smaller boxes until you got to the main box. It looked really fancy and expensive. That's when we knew that once that box was opened, we were finally getting to the meat of what this man just sold to the pawn shop. I," He says, clearing his throat, "Opened that last box and what we found inside was this brilliant ring with a large amethyst and a pair of smaller ones. Immediately, something tried to seduce us into touching the ring, but I'd broken out of that spell and tried to slam the box closed. Unknown to me, at the time, Lilith had already touched it just as I was closing it."

When Magnolia's demeanor transforms before him, reminding him of her father from years ago, Byron doesn't nod, his posture remaining stiff, but he does say, "I'll call Lilith. She didn't want too many other involved with the box or the ring, in case they were cursed too. " Here, he shakes his head, "She never wore the ring. And it was never removed from the box since the box was closed. I.. I don't even know if the lid of the box was ever opened again."

Right at this moment, he'll pulling out his phone to do just that, message Lilith. "Isabella Reede grew up to an archeologist. Indiana Jones style. I'd contacted her to see if she could look up information on cursed rings, if Lilith agrees, perhaps, I can set up a meeting for the three of you."

"Alright, so. That's pretty much tells me that, that ring wasn't supposed to be let out of the box, but there was no way to actually give it away once it hooked in." Magnolia can make leaps! She frowns with a tilt of her head. "So, we got this box, and the ring, but the ring kept getting handed down. My guess is that you gotta wear the ring for extended periods of time for it to actually take hold, so Lilith just touching it was more like a little brush with whatever is inside." She takes a couple notes, but there's lots on that page she hasn't share yet. "I can't do much more if I don't have access to information." She points her pen at him. "And no more holding back, Ron. I'm serious. We don't get into this shit without eyes totally open."

She makes a couple more notes, writing Isabella's name down. She nods. "Set it up. I'm going to continue to search for Michaels. He's out of town, but I can track that pretty easily. I'll tap some of my other PI friends in the area, see if I can figure out where he went." She looks seriously at him now. "No one touches that box, or the ring. It's hazmat, alright? Put stickers on it or something, lock it in a safe. I don't know, but if Lilith touched it once, it might have made it easier for it to get to her again."

Now her lips tighten. "She have any Dreams lately?"

"I am hoping that there's some documentation on this ring, but I'm not sure if any of that would be something that Michaels the Third would have had in his apartment or if it's lost with time after the death of his father and grandfather," Drawing himself up to sit upright, posture erect, Byron says with a heavy sigh, "I tried to keep from Lily from touching it. And though she hadn't even worn the damn thing, she was nearly killed among so many other accidents that happened." His voice becomes animated slightly, "Hell, I didn't even touch the ring and I only opened the box and my car breaks down that day, then there's a murder in my apartment building. And then this, finding one of my apartments completely ransacked and realizing that was connected to that god damned ring."

Now with that pen directed at him, he'll make a couple of additions to this, "When I did a reading on that box, the ammo box that the others were in, I experienced a moment through the eyes of Jack Michaels. He was putting one box into another and just at that moment, there was loud banging at the door. I remember his thoughts, saying that they were here." His brow knits now as he's still trying to piece things together, "I don't know when that memory happened exactly. On June 29th, was the last time I'd seen him and he had left his apartment alone. With the box." He then takes up his phone, pulling up his calendar, "On July 6th, Maintenance in my building got a call about a leak coming from Room 702. Jack Michael's apartment. It was ransacked. Someone else is obviously hunting down that ring. I don't know why they didn't break the door down the first time, when Michaels was still in his apartment, in that one memory, but they showed up days later and tore the place apart."

The second bit of tidbit mentioned is: "I don't know if you've heard of a man named Alister Carver. He was present when I opened the box with the ring. He's a... special case and from what I heard, he's able to move in and out of dreams easily enough, which is I entrusted him to keep the ring away from, well, Lilith. Did he listen? No, he crashes at her place. I'll have to check whether she has it locked up or if Carver does." That's when the beeping sound of a couple of text messages are heard. He pauses to take a look, "Lilith is open for you, Isabella and possibly Harper, the librarian to take a look. Mainly because you all might be able to obtain good information regarding any of this."

That's when he has to stop and think on the final question, "Dreams? I'll.. have to check. One moment."

"Hey. You don't know my superior skills very well," Magnolia points out. "If there's something on the ring, once I get a solid description and some pictures, I bet I can do some artifact tracing." Because she's a PI, goddamnit! But then she's taking more notes and flips over her paper to scribble down some more. Then she looks up slightly, frowning. "But you said that the box was just one of those ammunition cases, right? Did you touch all the boxes, including the box the ring was in?" Though, news of the ransacked apartment has her leaning back. A thought crosses her mind, clear and bright as day. "When was the apartment ransacked?"

Then she goes quiet, listening to the summary of the events that Byron spied through Michaels' eyes. She frowns, leaning back slightly away from him. She takes a few more notes. "They." She underlines this word. "Alright, and you're sure it wasn't Michaels who came back to his own apartment?" Dumber things, right? She continues to scrawl in that neat script what Byron is telling her, doodling in details that make sense to her. When Carver is mentioned, she writes his name down even while listening to Byron. Her pen stops just at the space right after that detail about Carver and Lilith. "You need to get the box, Byron. Seriously. It needs to be put somewhere that no one has easy access to. Do you have an empty apartment in the building? If so, put it there... in the fridge, and get one of those locks to put on the fridge. And then wrap it in straps. And then give me the key to the lock and the apartment. Or give it to like Tobin, or Kevin, someone who has zero involvement. I'm serious, Ron. I don't care who can do what with dreams or how unique anyone is."

She reaches out for him now, and she grabs him solidly by his hand. Her grip is hard, but also soft at the edges. "Promise me you are going to put that ring somewhere that no one can easily get to it.

Despite the subject matter, Byron just has to smile when Magnolia insists that she is all he needs on this case. It's a small, quiet smile, but an appreciative one. "Dr. Jones-- I mean Isabella has shown interest in this already. Maybe both of you can work together." And Harper, he supposes. He then helps to make clear what exactly had happened regarding the boxes. "Lilith opened the ammunitions box. The first one. And maybe the second. When she set the first box to the side, I touched it to get a read. Carver then opened the third box, that's when we came across the expensive box, about the size of a deck of playing cards. Rather than opening it up, which is what he should have done. He, instead, TOSSED IT, at me and I had to snatch it out of midair before it clattered to the floor and shattered." There's some annoyance in both expression and tone when he says this. "Then I'd opened the last box to reveal the ring."

His eyes once more on his phone calendar he repeats the date, "The apartment was probably ransacked on July 5th, since the leak in the lower unit's ceiling was reported on July 6th at 2am. Depending on how long it takes for the tub and sinks to fill up with water and then saturate the floor to leak through to the unit below it." The question on whether Michaels may have ransacked his own apartment is now considered. "I don't have an answer to that for you. I'd done a reading of the room as a whole. His state of mind when I read the box was one of nervousness, terror. The emotional residue that I got from the ransacked room was...utter joy. Enjoyment. Glee, even."

Then she says something which he had initially planned to do with the ring, "See, that was my idea. To keep the room in one of the model or vacant apartments and even switch it around between apartments to throw off the scent if anyone is so inclined to look. However, knowing that someone had ransacked an apartment in my building already and without being recorded on my security cameras, I don't even know how secure any of that will be right now. But it's something to consider."

He's not expecting it, really, so he's taken by surprise when he feels her hand reach out to grab at his in a firm, yet comforting hold. His gaze falls upon it for a mere second, before they lift to look her in the eyes. "I can try. Lilith's... safe was supposed to be that place, now that Carver's dropped it back off with her. Unless he still has it on his person. But, I'll let you all see it. I'm not sure /how/, but even to get a good picture of the ring or a sketch or anything, someone will have to be close enough to observe it. Someone has to be there to open the box."

Magnolia sighs a big sigh, tapping the end of her pen in a quick staccato against the pad of paper and her desk. Then she looks up at Byron. "Alright, so... all three of you," and she makes a dramatic swirling gesture, "are basically compromised. This is like handling hazardous waste, dude. You touched it, and then Carver touched it, and then Lilith touched it, and-- goddamnit, Byron. We grew up here. We know that we don't mess with this shit." It would be a lot more forceful admonishment if not for the fact that she looks worried, and there's a thick knot in her throat that she swallows down.

Then she takes a few more notes, and she underlines when she hits a question he doesn't have an answer to. "Not frustration?" She looks back up to him now, and something thoughtful crosses her expression. "Alright, so... when you ransack a room looking for something, you're frustrated, you're frantic... you only get giddy when you find what you're looking for."

She stares seriously at him, "Byron, I need whatever you can get me. Seriously. There's more to this than just some nesting boxes and a cursed ring." Then she takes a big sigh as her phone buzzes, and she looks down at it.

"I gotta go pick up Lark. Some fucking second grader keeps bullying her on the bus, and I'm this close to laying the smackdown on a seven-year-old." She hits him with a winning smile. "Not even sure I would feel bad." She would feel bad.

"I didn't touch the ring! I touched the box that it was encased in." Byron is quick to state as if that fact makes much of a difference. His index finger is even lifted, pointed to the sky as to emphasize something or other. But with that said, he nods, "Either whoever it is found something, which is strange since the ring ended up with Lilith by the owner. Or... the destruction was caused by a vandal. I really am not sure. And my read doesn't always give me information at a specific point in time. The giddiness could have come from any time in the past. Maybe even when Jack Michaels first opened the box."

He'll continue to sit, a little evident tension ruining the that relaxed posture, but then she excuses herself with far more pressing issues. That's when he rises, a warm look of concern on his features. "Tell Lark, I said hi. Maybe if you both have time, we I'll buy her-- you both ice cream on the boardwalk." One last look given some of the printed data, he nods, "I'll try to find out more if possible. Take another read, but trying to find a specific object to get a reading off of may prove difficult. If not the boxes."

With that, he'll see himself out, ending with, "Just try not to get arrested. Or even worse, sued." There's a flash of a grin and then he heads out.