2019-10-16 - Clue: A Classic Mystery

Standing near Miss Scarlet (Erin), Professor Harper Plum sips a drink and smiles at Mr. Boddy's playful query about the weather, looking to Grant Mustard to see what his witty retort will be. To Erin she murmurs, "Why, he is much younger than I would have expected of a Colonel. What do you think, my dear?"

Never missed one, why start now? Seems to be quite the logical question really. Vivian arrived and promptly found herself a drink and a place to sit to wait for the rest of the guests to arrive. When Mr. Boddy addresses the newest to arrive regarding the weather she glances in that direction, "My theory is only half the town will be washed away."

Grant enters, damp and in good spirits. The umbrella goes down and the rain mac comes off. There is a box under his arm, but he does walk the part and have an officer's haircut instead of a high and tight. "Ah, Norbert, it' good of you to invite me. It'll be excellent to catch up, and in such fine company." He nods to the gathered, "Ladies. Father." And done offers Boddy a handshake and the box of cigars. "You'll want to get those into a humidor earlier than later." Flashing a smile to Vivian White he is quick to agree, "Well then we'll have to have an impromptu pool party."

It's a dinner party, though when she arrives, Isabella Peacock, despite her namesake, doesn't strut or show off her plumage; her dark hair is pulled in a tight bun and a pair of thin black frames rest on her nose. No dress for the schoolteacher, clad in a sleek black pantsuit instead that feels familiar for some strange reason, as if she had worn it recently before, her modesty maintained by the addition of a designer bolero jacket pulled over her shoulders. Stilettos with pointy toes click on the Mr. Boddy's tastefully decorated veranda, stowing away her umbrella and her hat. Brows furrow as she directs her green eyes towards the Moroccan carpets that add an additional splash of color on the antiquated hardwood floors, arching a brow. A ripple of confusion dominates her delicate features, but only for a moment. Why does she care about where the carpets come from?

She sighs, pushing up her frames with a pinky finger and moves where the rest of the party are gathering. "What utterly abysmal weather," she drawls. "It's awful enough that I've had to struggle with a terrible headache while lecturing the little bra-- " And she pauses, catches herself, plastering a sweet smile on her lips that does not touch her eyes. "...darling children today. I hope everyone else was having a better day?" And she's already looking for the wine, though whenever she reaches the bottles, her fingers hover indecisively over the offerings. Did she want wine? Doesn't she prefer something stronger?

Erin always looked good in red and had that amazing sense of style. Tonight in the figure hugging dress and the oversized red hat, the latter which was removed with her coat at the door, she cast a striking figure. "Oh love," she greets Boddy with a friendly demeanor and a touch of a flirty smile. "We do so appreciate the invitation. If anything, it keeps us away from the town if it does get washed away." In an aside to Professor Harper Plum, Erin Scarlet laughs softly. "I think Colonel Mustard looks like a charming young man." Trying to keep the predatory look off her face. "Ah miss Vivian, we do so see you at all these auspicious occasions. A pleasure I'm sure."

"I believe the Lord is fairly choosy in what towns he sees fit to wash away these days, and ours has surely not been so sinful as all that," Pastor Vyv volunteers with a slight smile, inclining his head to the newest arrival over a glass of wine. He sits positioned quite properly in his chair, clad in a tweed suit of suitable cut and suitable vintage, new enough to be respectable but old enough not to be giving off airs. A man of God has his responsibilities to lead his flock by example, after all.

Harper casts a gaze over at the optimistic pastor and lifts her gaze ceiling-ward for a moment. Her conservative, blousy-sleeved dress is magenta in hue, the black lines of her stockings leading down the back of each calf to practical black pumps. Erin's laughter draws Harper's brown-eyed gaze back down and she nods, simply, once. "That he does, Erin. And cigars. Boddy will like those." Isabella's commentary about the rocky day she's had earns a bit of a sympathetic look. "I honestly don't mind the rain. So long as I'm not in a dress and headed to a lovely party."

Grant gets comfortable and lifts his wine glass turning to Professor Plum with an amused drawl, "Well there's an easy solution to addressing that." He doesn't say it out of perhaps respect for the company or the Reverend but the professor gets a glass lifted with a nod. Comment left not pursued. " Looking to Ms. Peacock he grins, "Well they're like any new recruit I'd imagine. If they've kept all their fingers attached and no one's hit anyone else we call that a successful start."

"Mrs. Peacock," Erin greets, fairly certain the rumors are true about her and the host. It's not voiced, but she doesn't stop the flicker of her eyes darting back between the two a couple of times. "The children are giving you a hard time?" Erin's attention is drawn to the cigars and she watches as they are being put away. "Certainly charming the host for sure." There's a moment when the host mentions eating in the dark. "There are restaurants like that, I've seen. So you focus on food and conversation instead of surroundings."

"Only half." Vivian White replies before she finishes the drink in her hand, setting the empty glass down before she gets to her feet, her hands smoothing down her dress. Speaking of rain in a dress, she glances down at the pale color of parts of her dress, hands moving behind her to adjust the satin bow there now that she's on her feet, "I can't agree more about how terrible rain like this is when you're on your way somewhere looking nice..." There is likely more there, but she stops when the lights flicker, then go out for a split second, "My..."

"Eating in the dark provides the perfect opportunity for candles, I say," Harper Plum ripostes. "Everyone looks better and everything is as clean as the company imagines it." She wanders over to Grant and offers a hand. "Harper Plum. I don't believe we've met. You're a colonel?" A glance is flickered back to Vivian as the woman agrees about traveling to nice dinner dates in pouring rain. She smiles at the woman.

"Do you expect left, right, top, or bottom half?" Vyv Green inquires, leaning back a bit in his chair and sounding slightly too much as though this were a matter of serious inquiry to actually be one, surely. "Either of the latter might make for quite an interesting sight in the morning, I'd say." A sip of his drink, glancing ceilingward when the lights flicker. "Well, if it is dark, I'm sure the food and conversation will make up for it, yes. We just might need to lay in a few extra napkins."

Grant's dry wit earns him a winning smile from the schoolteacher. "Yes," Isabella muses. "Fingers." There's a wiggle of her own towards him, eyes gravitating to wherever the man keeps his cigars. "And yes, my dear," said to Erin. "But don't they always? It's-- "

And then the room grows dark. For a moment, there's a sigh. "It feels like it really is starting to become one of those-- " The lights flare back to life, and she's all smiles again. "...days. It's almost enough to convince me to pick up smoking again. You'll oblige me if I end up succumbing to my more unsavory vices, won't you, Colonel?"

Grant chuckles to Harper and assures, "I'm older than I decide to let on. When my birthday comes about I politely decline." He seems confident in that answer. " But yes, m'am. Air Force. Boddy and I used to serve together until he decided to enjoy his retirement." There's that flash of a grin a the lights flicker. One eyebrow arches up." Isabella's request wins a bemused glance, "If you end up succumbing to such you have my word I shall deny such a thing ever occurring in court, Ms. Peacock." As the lights flicker again the dry humor comes out, "Well that's going to make ti hard to play Twister if the power gives out."

"Left half, of course." Vivian White replies with a shake of her head, laughing faintly at this idea of a top or bottom half washing away. Although top half is more a reasonable process than bottom. She moves over towards where the others seem to be drifting, even if she doesn't appear to be the sort to partake in cigar smoking herself. Maybe.

Erin was going to comment on the bottom half but all threads of conversation cease and evacuate her mind when the lights go out and remain out. Or maybe it was that thunking sound. "Careful, there's a piano there." Having thought the thud came from that direction. Falling silent she waits for the lights, waiting to see if they come on. "We need candles," she says after several dark moments.

"The Air Force. Of course," Harper replies to Grant with a smile. She returns to the comment about playing Twister, "Or much, much easier." Vivian's playful response to Vyv's query draws laughter from the Professor. Boddy's grin is charming as usual. She catches her breath when the room goes dark and is absolutely still for a handful of moments. "Time for Twister," she observes dryly. Though when the lights show no hint of coming back on, she reaches out and tries to tap the Colonel on the arm. "Tell me you brought a lighter with those cigars, Colonel. I thought I saw some candlesticks on the sideboard."

Between one step and the next the lights go out, and there is a sudden gasp. It's possibly Mrs. White, right? Super hard to actually tell with the lights out, but it seems to be from her direction, and nothing more than that.

"Ugh, don't remind me," Isabella says, waving a hand as she follows the rest of the guests. "Why endure the rain, my dear Norbert, when you're in here doing the very same on my complaints. I'd much rather-- "

And then things grow dark. Erin warns her about the piano. Another put-upon sigh and the sound of her clicking stilettos move in the dark. "Where does that man keep his matches, I could have sworn they were around here somewhere..."

Grant agrees with the Professor, "Well, definitely more interesting." There's a chuckle from the officer at the amused banter of his former colleague. He slowly looks up as the light flickers and dies and then a THUNK. The sound of his chair moves There are a lot of noises in this area. Reaching into his coat he pulls out a Zippo. A sonorous voice resonates, "Alright that sounded heavy. Everyone stay calm. We'll get light here in a moment. What's dinner without some atmosphere anyways? Let's grab a couple." And with that there's the strike of a metallic lighter, a nice one with his squadron's logo emblazoned on it. "In the hall you said or on the mantle?" He moves to find one or the other and returns with a lit candlestick and looking for others to light.

"Ah, of course," Vyv agrees to the decree of 'left', and the remark about Twister draws a laugh. Whatever he might have had to say about that, however, is cut off by the lights going out -- and this time, not flashing back on.

"Oh dear," he murmurs at the sound of the thunk, and there's a small rustling sound from where he sits. "Well. A poor imitation, but if it may help a little... let there be light?" A click and flicker; a lighter over there as well. Smokes, does he? "Hm. And alas we saw that it was merely better than nothing," he says, assessing the glow, but it's enough to get to his feet, abandon the wine, and help with the hunting of candlesticks, at least.

After Grant and Vyv spark their lighters and candles are lit, Harper scans around the members of the dinner party and frowns. She looks from person to person and counts her second time through. "Where's Boddy?" This is asked with a perplexed expression.

That is a good question. With the room lit and with him nowhere in sight, Isabella sighs. "He did have the gall to tease me about wrangling five year olds for a living, perhaps he's decided to play a little game of hide and seek." Reaching out with her long fingers, she plucks one of the candlesticks off the mantle, her high heels clicking on wood and carpet both as her slim, black-clad figure stats moving for the darkened threshold of the dining room.

"Norbert! Honestly, your guests are famished, what in the devil are you doing?"

"Thank God." Vivian breathes out in relief when the lights come back, in the form of candles and lighters at least. She glances around, making an exasperated sound when she spots that Mr. Boddy has run off somewhere, "Maybe he was going to find the fuse?" She suggests when she spots the door to the dining room open, and she ventures in that direction as well just to see if there is a fuse box. That's how this works, isn't it?

"Checking on dinner?" In fact, could dinner even be smelled? Erin glances towards the inky darkness of the dining room. "I, for one, think he is toying with us." She takes one of the candlesticks as well. "Perhaps the thud was him trying to leave the room in a hurry. I do hope he wasn't too terribly wounded."

Grant walks slowly around to light Ms. Peacock's candle she found and looks to the gathered. Alright most accounted for. "More than likely Norbert went to check the fuse. Ah, here it is." Looking to the pastor he asks, "Pastor, looks at if he hit the end table on the way out. Help me right it so no one gets hurt on it. Wouldn't want anyone to trip on it and die in the dark." Oh sweet irony.

With a glance to the guests who remain in the parlor, Harper heads to the collection of candles as well and picks one up so she doesn't tumble head over foot into another member of the dinner party by blindly following the flickering lights a couple of them hold. "He's quite concerned about our dinner, running off as soon as the lights went out. If he'd only waited a minute, he could have had some light." The two gentlemen go about righting the table and she holds her candlestick up so that they can do said moving with some illumination.

Vyv is good at lighting candles. One of those occupational skills, y'know. Very important. Popping the lighter away and claiming one of the candlesticks is not, but he does it anyway. It's important to be flexible, too! "What? Oh, absolutely," he replies to the Colonel, and moves around to the other, er, end of the end table, handing his own candlestick over to Harper to free both hands. Double the illumination! "Perhaps not the most practical plan," he agrees with her, "but he does know this place well..." He sounds only a tiny bit dubious about how well might be required, for a fuse box in the dark.

There is a pleased smile for Grant when he supports this theory of the fuse, then Mrs. White follows along. Because this is what she does.

There's a winning smile cast to Grant when he lights her candle, the spark and flare reflecting off the clear lenses of her frames. "Thank you, dear Colonel," Isabella says before she proceeds with the rest into the dining room. Passing by the watchtower painting, she can't help but stop and take a look at him, and although there's a frown, goosebumps pebble her skin, a shudder washing down her spine. "How macabre," she mutters. "I know he has a respectable Dali around somewhere and instead, he hangs...this." There's something haunting about it, however - in spite of her words, she can't stop looking at it.

Her green eyes find the crimson trail leading to the kitchen. "...what in the world?" She doesn't follow the trail, not just yet, but her disapproving frown pulls lower, and she takes a sidestep to squint at the knife on the table. She doesn't touch it, though. She instead leans towards it, pushing her glasses up her nose.

Once inside the dining room there is a quick look around, and that crimson trail is noticed first before Vivian gasps, her hands lifting up to her mouth to try and control the sound. Then she takes a step closer to the nearest male personage, for protection of course. "That...what is that?" She lets her eyes shift from the floor to the table, and the knife in it, "You don't think..." But then there is a frown, eyes narrowing as she notes even more off about the table than the knife, then she's looking for the candlesticks that got gathered up for light.

Erin comes along with the others, but when the lights return she does manage to get a better look around. The usual painting that haunts her when she least expects it. She places the candlestick on the table for now and notices the knife. An audible gasp that has an added whimper to it at the red smear. "Surely.. not." Though she does point out to the others. "The kitchen door, I remember it well. It usually swings back into closed position." There's a tremble in her voice. "See the hinges there? Something must be.. blocking it." Nothing good, surely.

Harper moves into the dining room ahead of Vyv and Grant and sets down her candlestick on the opposite end of the table from the knife; she stares at it. "What --" She looks to the women who preceded the rest of the group into the dining room as if they might have some answers. The knife embedded in the table is regarded for a time before she leaves her candle-stick and circles around to regard the bloodstain on the carpet. "Who stepped in this blood?" she inquires. Maybe it happened while they were moving around by candle-light. Slowly, Harper sinks to a crouch and regards the stained carpeting. "There's a foot print here. A woman's shoe, I think." From her crouch she casts a thoughtful gaze from one woman to the next. "If Boddy's playing a joke, I don't like it much." For the time being she is able to ignore the painting for the more visceral sights the room has to offer.

Light, proper light! That's wonderful! What it illuminates... perhaps not so much. Despite familiarity with it, that painting makes Vyv's skin crawl, but more worrying on this particular entrance to the room is that smear -- and that knife. His gaze follows the-- blood? the mess on the rug, at least, toward the kitchen door, but then scans the rest of the room. His brow furrows, head tilting, as he focuses on another of the doors, then moves toward it. There's a ballroom behind it, as might be known to other frequent visitors.

"Something here, as well," he says, and indeed, there's an odd dark mark there, like another smear. Smaller, of course. Vyv extends a finger, dragging it through the spot, then rubs thumb and finger together, nose wrinkling. "Not blood, certainly. Some sort of oil, more like. Possibly a kind of lubricant?" A quick look at the door itself again; perhaps debating whether it might have come from the hinges, or a knob. "This is..." He glances back toward Harper. "Is-- is that certainly blood, then?"

Grant is a grin there in the dark to Ms. Peacock. "Very welcome." The grin fades to curiosity and he stoops to pick something up off the ground giving it a sniff. In his fingers he holds up a cigar, trampled. He squints with a curious expression. "Not mine..." Looking to the ladies as they hypothesize he looks back to the pastor, "Well maybe he hit his leg really hard." Walking over he says, dauntless in the task, "Who wants to go with me to look?"

There are quick looks towards the pair of candlesticks that get set down, and then she looks back towards the center of the table before Vivian glances towards the others, "Where did you say those candlesticks were?" She wonders, then a hand lifts, "I'll go look." Go where? She wasn't paying attention, but a military man is probably someone to stick around. He can probably turn lights back on.

From where she's crouching beside the stain on the carpet, Harper nods to Vyv. "This is blood," she states simply. Her gaze flickers at floor level from one woman's shoes to the next. "Who stepped in it?" She inquires again, clearly addressing the women in the room. A sidelong glance back to him. "There's oil of some kind on the door? How odd."

Erin shows her shoes, the bottoms of them. No blood there! So Scarlet did not do it in this room with the candlestick. "I want to go check out the kitchen but not alone," she agrees to go with whomever is asking. Again, she gets her candle just in case the power flashes back off.

Vyv eyes his fingers with some distaste, drawing a handkerchief from a pocket to clean the oil, whatever exactly it may be, off of them. That done, he reclaims his initial candlestick, even if the light's not currently needed -- there is, indeed, nothing promising another lightning strike won't otherwise plunge them into darkness again -- and eyes that knife in the table once more. The lights being on does make the fuse theory lose cohesion by the moment, even if there weren't blood in the picture. "Mr. Boddy?" he calls, raising his voice, "We're in the dining room, please do join us..."

A moment, just to see if there might be a call back, before he says toward the colonel and co, "I'm quite willing to come along, but I'd rather like to take a quick peek into the ballroom, as well." Which is what he seems about to do, reaching toward the door again, albeit this time nowhere near the oily substance.

At the question of shoes there is a quick check of her shoes, "Someone stepped in something?" Vivian wonders, frowning a bit as she goes through the motions, then she glances around, "Well if we're all prepared to go look...then we might as well just go look, yes? Come on then, lets go."

She stops from her perusal of the knife to briefly take a look at the soles of her shoes. No blood. But something else does catch her eye. "Well, this is interesting." Isabella withdraws a thread from the knife. Sidling a step towards Vyv, she holds it out, and while she doesn't touch him, she does do this as close as she can so she can compare the shade of it in her hand, and the color he is wearing.

They match.

"I don't suppose you've been assisting with the dinner preparations, Pastor?" she wonders. She lifts her eyes to the rest, and then smiles at Erin. "Why not? Though I swear, if this is all some twisted joke, Norbert will have to answer for plenty."

Harper pushes up from her crouch, looking from Isabella to Vivian. Finally, she follows after Vyv toward the ballroom. "The ballroom, then." She casts a sidelong glance at the disturbing painting and mutters under her breath, "Damn you, Boddy, and your rotten taste in art, too."

Surely there is no reason to truly be alarmed was there? Erin lifts a hand to brush her hair back, tucking a few silky strands behind an ear. "This smells far better than anything I could cook at home. I should usurp him of his cook." If the cook was anywhere to be found! No such luck in the kitchen at least. Noticing a cupboard open, she strolls over and sinks down in a slight crouch. Seeing, there in the dust, the familiar triangle of where a container of D-Con used to be, she alerts the others in a sharp voice. "Don't touch the food! The rat poison is missing!" Stuff just got real, if they were supposed to have been poisoned during dinner. "What do you make of it, Isabella?"

At Kitchen:
Into the kitchen! Vivian follows along with the other pair, looking at the ground for the most part until the smell of the food hits her, and she looks up, taking a deep breath, "Amazing.." It it unladylike for the stomach to grumble, so she doesn't. But there is something that she catches, and she points towards the floor, "Look!" She hurries over, crouching down next to some bloody footprints, "It looks like....dress shoes?" She glances at her own shoes, then up to the other women, "Men's dress shoes."

At Ballroom:
Grant notes, "Well holler if you find him. It's a big house." He wades into the ballroom and looks at the curious affectation in the center and takes, in short order, note of the doors. "Professor, care to lend your sterling insight as to what that is for us. Pastor, I was the last to arrive, but were we the only ones in the house? How many of the staff did you see?" He crosses the room careful not to step in anything to just get a look at the Conservatory door and nudge it a bit open staying in view.

At Ballroom:
Harper steps into the ballroom and walks a slow circle around the echoing nearer space, craning her neck upward to look at the rope hanging from the ceiling. "Well, that's not at all disturbing." As she's looking up she nearly trips over something on the floor. Uttering a startled sound, she catches herself with hand to the wall and reaches down to lift up what appears to be an item made of fabric. She shakes it out and it turns out to be a green gentleman's suit jacket. "What a strange place to leave one's jacket," she muses. Checking the pockets, Harper Plum pulls out a card of some kind and lifts her voice to address Vyv and Grant. "Do either of you know a private investigator..." She pauses then adds with something of an ironic tone, "... by the name of Archibald Liebstein? He seems to be missing his jacket as well as his license. And perhaps a rope."

To Grant Harper murmurs dryly, "It appears to be a rope, Colonel. And I don't suspect Boddy was doing calsithenics in his ballroom. Given the knife in the dining room, I must say my first opinion is this is a rather absurd practical joke. But I don't know that I think Boddy even would go so far as to bring in actual blood to make us look foolish. What about you? Any grand theories that put to the test our use of the best of our deductive skills? If foul play was involved, it seems that it was so short a time between when the lights went out and when we lit the first candles for it to have been a complex maneuver involving a missing PI, a bloody scene complete with knife, a grease of some sort, and a length of rope tied from the ceiling."

At Ballroom:
Vyv is wearing tweed; on the one hand, this means that quite a number of colours might manage to match with one or another shade of thread within it. On the other, a tweed thread is, well, tweed, with the flecks and roughness. Not so like most others.

The pastor looks decidedly startled when Isabella compares those threads, and makes her inquiry. "What? No, no -- do I look like a chef?" he asks, with a rueful laugh. "I'd certainly have helped if asked, but it isn't my forte. I may hope to save a soul, but I've no idea how to filet one." The wry amusement, which seems genuine enough, fades as he considers that thread again, and the knife it came from. "If it's mine, I can't think how it might have got there. Although I suppose I do dine here rather often, and, well, one does have only so many suits..."

He shakes his head as if shaking it all off, and opens the door, peering into the ballroom. What he sees is enough to draw him in, rather than toward the kitchen, and he walks in until he's standing just beneath the dangling rope. The handkerchief emerges from his pocket again, tucked into the hand holding the candlestick before he reaches up to touch and turn the strand for a closer look. "Now, why would anyone want to lubricate a rope?" he murmurs, brow furrowed again, before the Colonel's question's break through. "Mm? Oh, well, I didn't see them, but I presume the cooks must have been here; someone had to make the dinner, after all. The maids are usually about, though I've not seen them either. And of course I expect Evans let you in? But certainly I believe we're the only guests." A glance to the suit coat. "No Mr. Leibstein, to my knowledge."

At Kitchen:
"I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation, Pastor," Isabella replies to the man, smiling at him faintly. "This is all highly irregular, I think." She watches him leave, before tucking her hands in her pockets and joins the two other ladies in the kitchen. With the scents of the prepared dinner laid out in front of her, she hears her stomach growl, and reaches for one of the rolls.

She's just popped one of them in her mouth when Erin declares her concerns about the rat poison missing, and she spits it out hurriedly. "Ugh, why is today so terrible!" the schoolteacher laments. She seems more concerned about not having any of the delicious dinner than the mystery, though when asked for her opinion she can't help but sigh. "Ah, now I really wish I had that scotch before dinner." She makes her way to the cupboard, inspecting its interior, before she hms, then strolls over to where Vivian is, flashing a smile and murmuring a 'hullo, darling' before she takes a knee to look at the bloodstained imprints. Distaste crawls over her features.

She straightens up, and looks around, reaching over to swipe a towel from the kitchen island to wipe her fingers in the event that butter-poison remains within it, but a sheaf of papers is revealed by doing so. Leaning against the edge of the counter, she flips through it, releasing a thoughtful noise.

"It seems that Pastor Green is dealing with some unsavory characters of late," she says as she reviews. "This is a letter from a private investigator's office that he's been dealing with a loan shark." She shows the correspondence to Vivian and Erin. "Though why Mister Boddy would want to poke into his business is a curious question, indeed. A piece of thread from his jacket was found by the knife, also." She lifts up her finger, where the thread is still curled. "But considering we don't even know whether the knife was used to spill all this blood, I suggest we keep looking for our missing host so he can explain himself." She folds the letter, and tucks it in the inner jacket of her pantsuit, as well as the thread.

At Kitchen:
When Isabella moves over to kneel next to her there is a smile, and a returned murmur, "Darling, you look fabulous."

It's a very poorly timed time to give compliments, but that doesn't seem to matter at all. Once her news of the footprints are shared she gets to her feet, hands smoothing out her dress once more, a hand lifting upwards to tuck an escaping strand of hair back into place, "Men's shoes..." She glances towards Erin, then Isabella once more, "Didn't Professor Plum mention something about shoes back in the dining room?" She only half heard, after all.

But the blood! And the knife! She then offers, casually, because she probably should have said something about this before, "The candlestick from the centerpiece, in the dining room...It's missing." She then indicates those candlesticks that people are carrying around, or were, or might be in that there ballroom. "Very similar looking, I can't be sure if they're all from the same set, or not." She moves to look at the letter, frowning a bit, "I don't know. Maybe Mister Boddy was helping to pay off the loan shark? Like a second loan...which does seem a little poor form, but maybe?"

At Ballroom:
Harper stops pacing as the thump is heard. "That sounds like something to investigate. Gentlemen?" That is Harper's invitation as she makes her way to the exit of the ballroom and heads in the direction of the conservatory.

At Kitchen:
"I believe she did. Women's shoes, because I showed the bottoms of mine, they have no blood on them. Though blood is a lovely shade of red, I think it would not coordinate with this particular shade I'm wearing. And it's just so difficult to get out of fabrics." A light tsk from Erin Scarlet. Taking interest in the markings in the blood, she takes the time to look at the shape before rising and moving over to look at the papers too. "This is so odd and I'm not sure I understand it. There are certain clues everywhere but they are all foreign and fitting nowhere, like a puzzle with most of the pieces missin..."

There's that sound again. "Come, let's go make sure another of the group isn't missing." Erin will lead the way out of the kitchen and follow the sound to the conservatory, from the other door, if there is one. Or through the ballroom if they have to.

"So women's shoes in the other room, and men's shoes in this one." Isabella purses her lips in thought, before the sound echoes through the rest of the house. "Well, we should probably see what happened." She lets Erin lead the way, smiling over at Vivian as she follows, though she isn't hurrying. She doesn't want to trip over her heels, and now that there's blood everywhere, she doesn't want to accidentally tread on them.

The sudden noises startles Vivian, and she glances between Erin and Isabella with no small amount of alarm, "You don't think it's Mr. Boddy? Like...maybe he is really hurt." Which, well, she follows along with the other pair, looking more and more concerned as things start to add up.

At Ballroom:
Grant glibly answers with a bemused grin to Plum, "Well I don't need Norbert's help looking foolish. I assure you I'm quite talented in that regard." He leans his head back out of the room with the heavy scent of loam in the air. "Professor I know it's a rope and a jacket. I wanted to know-" The words cut off and with one motion he rolls the candlestick over in his hand and keeps it defensively in case pushing his way into the door of the conservatory. He holds a hand up and back behind him to warn the others of a possible hazard, "Norb, what the hell is going on? This isn't funny!"

At Ballroom:
Vyv is in the midst of taking a (not particularly approving-seeming) look at that green jacket when the thump and shattering ring out, and looks toward their source -- and Grant, since the Colonel had already headed that way. "Yes, indeed," he replies to Harper, swiftly following the pair of them Conservatory-ward. He hefts his own candlestick as if to back up Mustard -- or possibly as if to hit him in the head, one supposes, though if that were the idea he'd probably be missing a decent chance or two here.

Harper takes some time fumbling for the lightswitch but eventually is successful. However, the way she stops short may impede the inward progress for some other guests. She lifts the back of her hand to her lips and simply stares at the corpse of Boddy. "Good god, no," murmured against her knuckles. How did such a thing happen? Professor Plum drops into a chair and scans the lines of the poem. The Dark Men. Horror is writ in her brown eyes.

As soon as Vivian makes her way into the conservatory, with the rest, she stops and stares. It's a whole two seconds before she starts to scream, though, her hands lifting up to her face, the horrified look pinned right onto the swinging body of Mr. Boddy. It's the long, drawn out scream of the truly frightened, then she drops like a sack of potatoes onto the floor in a dead faint, which at least cuts off the screaming.

Wide, green eyes take in the grisly scene before her, Isabella's hand coming up to cover her mouth. She doesn't see the poem yet, but her stare takes in the scene before her, the wounds in the dead man's chest, the oily pipe, the rat poison and the rope. But the longer she stares at the picture in front of her, the more her brows furrow.

That is, until Vivian screams and the young woman is already moving, arms coming up in an attempt to catch her. She does, but the dead faint is so sudden that she's unable to brace her body fast enough and she topples on the ground with her burden, the wind knocked out of her lungs. For a moment, she doesn't move, entangled against Vivian, groaning softly. But her position ends with her within eye level of the poem and she freezes - she recognizes her name, though there's some confusion there - is that her name? - and then down to the mention of the Dark Men and dining with them.

Dining with them.

Her stomach lurches, nausea threatening to overwhelm her and the urge to dry heave is sudden and real. She chokes on it, panic twisting over her bones and making it difficult to breathe. She attempts to push herself up with Vivian, her fingers clutching the woman's limp body tight as she forces them both in a sitting position. "...when the power went out, someone attacked Norbert, I think. Maybe with the pipe. That's perhaps why we saw oil stains in the doorknob, when his attacker opened the door. They dragged his body through the dining room, where they must have stabbed him with the knife, then through the kitchen to grab the rat poison, which is why the streaks led there....and then strung him up. The candlestick...they would have needed light, they can't see in the dark. Maybe. But why would they bother bringing the rat poison? If they did stab him repeatedly after knocking him out and then stringing him up, why would they need it? He's already dead."

Erin comes in behind a few of the others. In fact, the light coming on is a relief, but the scream startles her enough that, with the blood and knife earlier, along with the rat poisoning, leads her to believe something terrible has happened. Making her way in, she's not disappointed, well she is, but the scene is almost expected. Stifling theurge to freak out, she hurriedly tends to the candle, placing it upright, including the one Vivian is carrying, if she indeed was. "The rat poison may be for us. Dine with them?" Taking the cue from her.

At Ballroom:
Grant lowers the candlestick, and takes in the scene. Ms. White sways on her feet and down she falls taking Ms. Peacock with her. Candlestick in hand he moves there and looks at Ms. White and then to the alert of the two, "I don't know what that means. You alright?" Looking back to Peacock and Green and Scarlett he says, "Maybe don't let the lights go out?"

Vyv steps into the room ready for-- well, he isn't sure what, though 'clues he isn't yet sure what to make of' was probably topping that list. A body, even Boddy's body, may have been somewhat further down. This configuration, however, didn't quite make the list at all, and he stops short, staring over Harper's shoulder. His mouth goes on ahead of the rest of the processing, quiet and strangely calm: "Well. That seems like overkill."

He glances to Isabella when she speaks, standing quite still. "Rope here, but rope still in the dining room, too, with the oil on it. They can't have-- they can't have taken him both ways 'round, hung him twice, perhaps the other wasn't really used... but why?" It's only then that it occurs to him to offer a hand up to the women now on the floor. "If the poem is correct, and our choices are go or stay for dinner with-- different hosts, perhaps we ought to..." a glance back toward the door, "go. And call the police." A hint dubious, that last part, but...

The jostling by Isabella starts to bring Vivian around, by the time Isabella is half-way through her litany of murder she's started to sit up under her own steam, a hand reaching up to her head, "What...." She starts, hoping perhaps that she's mis-remembering the whole thing, but the fact remains, no. There is a body. She holds her hand to her mouth, trying to cut back on that second urge to scream, and then she frowns, things clicking into place, "But there were two shoe prints, right?"

Questions, so many questions. Vivian seems to be relatively confused by the sheer overkill of it all, "But if they were going to kill us with the rat poison, shouldn't they have let us actually eat first?" She glances at Isabella, then tilts her head in Vyv's direction, whispering to her, "What about the letter?"

"I only know about one shoe print. And several of us could have stepped in the blood when we went through the room." Harper sits with her elbows pressed against her knees, holding herself so that she can regard the staging of the interwoven 'murders' and the poem. "It's meant to be tangled up, I think. I think it's meant to be utterly beyond logic. But who are these Dark Men? They don't sound like dining partners I'd like to meet. Even if they hadn't harmed Boddy in more ways than any person ought to have to consider. Is there some reason we would even consider meeting his murderers instead of simply calling the police?"

She fights down the urge to loose bile onto the floor, when her stomach is empty, white noise cottoning the inside of her skull and her green-gold eyes blank and staring at the floor. Isabella is taking several deep breaths, her calm cracking at the seams when the rest mention them - dining with Them. Feeding Them. She shakes her head hard, and lifts her hands to slap at her cheeks sharply, until Vyv's hand is offered down to her and Vivian. To her credit, when she clasps her fingers around his, her grip is solid and sure, and she uses his strength as leverage to hoist herself back up.

The world tilts dangerously on its axis, intensifying the urge to vomit. But her gaze finds Vivian and hears her whisper, and she reaches into the inner lining of her pocket, and hands Vyv the private investigator's note that she found in the kitchen.

"We can't stay here," she tells the others, her voice thready and hoarse. "I agree with the growing consensus that we need to quit this place immediately." She slowly gets on her knee, and grabs the heavy candlestick, hefting it up, her face hardening into a mask of determination. She's already looking for an exit, moving for the door.

Grant can't tell if this is real or not or even what not-real would entail. Hell he was dropping acid and painting when this happened not that he fucking remembers any of it. He might be sitting in the half pipe painting pumpkins for all he knows or making chalk dust angels. Or this is happening. Or it's happening but it's malleable. Looking to White and Peacock next to him the Colonel nods. "Let's get outside. I'll pull the car up. We should go back to town and get help."

Harper looks back to the gruesomely dressed body of their host and pushes slowly to her feet. She looks around to each of the other guests present, measuring their states-of-mind.

Vivian's not totally rude, she takes the help back to her feet, her hands clutching together in front of her, but then she glances towards Grant when he mentions heading back to town, then towards Vyv, "The police...?" She then glances once again at the body, a hand raising up to cover her mouth before she murmurs, "We should do something."

Vyv accepts the note from Isabella, brow furrowed, and unfolds it to read the contents. He'd already paled somewhat at the sight in here, but manages to find himself a lighter shade of pale as he takes it in. "...Liebstein!" he exclaims suddenly, lifting his head to look over to Harper, "Archibald Liebstein." To the others, he adds, "We found a jacket in there, green," he does not entirely approve, "with a private investigator's license in that name. I don't-- I don't know what it means. And this is..." A glance at the letter, which he folds and slides into an inner pocket of his own jacket, "I don't know what to make of this, either. I don't..."

He goes still, brow furrowed, looking around, eyes sliding off Boddy and onto the lines of the poem again. "...this isn't right," he says half to himself, as if that were any sort of an observation in a room with this kind of murder by recalcitrant committee in it, "It isn't-- right." He looks around at the others with a strangely lost expression. Even his name doesn't feel like it fits properly. Vyv, yes, Green? He's a pa-- it starts that way, why does 'pastor' suddenly feel wrong? Has God abandoned them here?

He takes a deep (and slightly regretted) breath, getting a grip. "We should leave," he says, with a firm nod. "Outside, all. We'll head into town and tell the police, and-- and perhaps it'll only be a quarter of the town washed away." Ha ha. It's an attempt, at least. And he suits action to word, turning to head back the way they came.

Erin recognizes the Veil when she sees it. Any skewed reality equals veil. She was so into it though, so in-character that it took her much longer than usual to realize it. The note from the Dark Men jarred her to her soul. Join them for dinner? When the car is gone for, she helps make sure everyone is collected. "Yes, we should. We should go."

Grant stands and looks to Vivian, "Deep breaths. We'll get the car and get you out of here." Looking to Peacock next to him he hands her one of the candlesticks again. "If you care to come with?" And with that he pats the priest on teh shoulder looking to he and Plum. "We'll honk when we pull up in teh drive."

Harper shakes her head, "IF we're involving the police, we can't move the body." Vyv's commentary drags her attention and she smiles ever so faintly at him. "The missing PI." She arches a brow at Vyv's discomfiture. She ends up nodding slowly as he states how not-right it is. Departure it is. "I would very much like to get away from here. I wish there was some way to maintain the crime scene for the police, but to be perfectly honest? I don't think I could stomach staying alone with these Dark People on the prowl." Harper folds her arms across her slim chest and staves off a shudder, intentionally not looking back to where Boddy is trussed up. "The Colonel is driving." Best not to try to remember how she got there to begin with.

Vyv's exclamation startles Isabella, too, especially when the calm and composed, distinguished gentleman next to her grows even paler from the site of the note. "You found a jacket and a private investigator's license in the ballroom?" she wonders, quietly.

And when he claims that this isn't right, she nods in agreement. "Agreed," she murmurs. "We need to get out of here."

Grant's handing of the candlesticks has her taking it with a firm grip. "Let's go," she says, her voice grim and low. She's definitely not staying here to get fed on. She looks at the rest for a moment, and then she follows to go help Grant get the car.