Play@YSDC

A brief phone call to Sergeant Dhillon leads to a rendezvous at Surrey Police headquarters, Mount Browne, Guildford.

The site is a jarring mish-mash of Edwardian country house and 1960's brutalist office block. Previously slated for demolition, it was granted a reprieve and, instead of being moved to another site, remains at it's current location.

Finding a parking space among the myriad of police vehicles, you make your way to the lobby entrance where a dark-skinned police officer awaits with arms folded - Sergeant Dhillon you presume.


“Special Assessment Unit huh?" she says without preamble. "My guv’nor wasn’t happy to hear you lot are sniffing around, but if you’re taking over the investigation it’ll save his budget at least. So what’s this about? Not those stupid crank calls is it? Ghost cars – Pfft! C’mon!”

"Dr. Jordan Schneider," says Jordan. "Pleased to meet you. Yes, that's us. You've been getting crank calls about ghost cars?" He isn't so sure these calls aren't genuine, knowing what he knows.

Skipper is briefly diverted by ghost cars. "Ghost cars? Like a Rolls Royce Phantom? Actually, weren't ghost cars on an episode of The Simpsons?"

"Never mind the transportation of choice for the Departed, I'm hoping to get a hold of the very late Mr Chichester's phone. Real phone, not one made of ghost, ah, snot." Skipper is sure there's a better name for ghost snot but can't remember it. He can remember Slimer from Ghostbusters though.

Izzy steps forward and shakes the sergeant's hand. "DC Izzy Cooper. And yep, SAU. I'm guessing you don't get many of our cases down here, usually."

She gives a quick glance towards the others, and then glances back at Sgt. Dhillon, with an almost apologetic look on her face, though her colleagues know it's not as serious as she allows her fellow officer to think. She knows full well that ghost cars are a thing, but not a trace of that is present on her features. As for the budget concerns, well, she's used to that. DCI Seawoll has expressed the same sentiments on many an occasion.

"No crank calls this time, just a dead guy in a leisure centre. The autopsy picked up something that might be Falcon-related," Izzy says, referring to the Met's designation for any Folly-related business. "We were asked to look into it."

Sgt Dhillon sighs when you ask about 'ghost cars'.

“We get calls from idiots trying to tell us that the Hindhead tunnel is supposed to be haunted. It only opened in 2011 for goodness sake; how can it be haunted? You’ll be telling me the ghost of Devil’s Punch Bowl is real next! Oh, and I believe the term is ectoplasm - my dad loves that film.”

She focusses her attention on Izzy - seemingly the most sensible of the party.

"So what do you want to know? Chichester was a middle-aged advertising executive who lived in an apartment in Godalming. He drove a Porsche Boxster - no mid-life crisis there. Police record shows a couple of speeding tickets and a caution for getting lairy with someone last week."

"The clothing and belongings found on her person at the scene are being stored here as evidence if you want to take a look. I've got someone in forensics on standby if you need them."

Skipper clicks the fingers of one hand, looking relieved. "Ectoplasm! That's the word I was after."

"Thank you," says Jordan. "Hopefully we can unlock his phone. We could learn a lot from that. With whom was he getting lairy last week?"

It's a good question from Jordan, and Izzy already has her notebook in hand with her notes from the morgue, ready to jot down the answer, while also updating her notes as they talk to Sgt. Dhillon. Potentially a line of enquiry, though it could just as easily have been an unrelated random punch up down the local pub with someone who Karl never saw again. Only one way to find out...

"Well, we did a bit of a background check, but nothing in depth - we knew about the love of cars, typical bloke I suppose." Says the woman in her early twenties who doesn't even own a car.

"If we can check the clothes and items then that would be a good start, thanks. I take it forensics did a full investigation of the scene? Did they pick up anything unusual at all?"

Sgt. Dhillon consults her notebook.

"Looks like he got into an altercation with one Shaun Rushgrove at a nearby bar. Apparently Mr. Chichester was - and I quote - 'leching' at Rushgrove's girlfriend - one Holly Tremlett. When Rushgrove remonstrated with him, Chichester apparently lost it and swung a poorly-aimed punch. Luckily the bar staff intervened and Chichester, raging like a lunatic according to witnesses, was restrained. By the time an officer arrived he'd calmed down and was full of apologies. Rushgrove declined to press charges and Chichester was cautioned."

"As for the man's belongings - yes, we have them bagged up here. If you sign the necessary paperwork you're welcome to take a look. Forensics found nothing of interest at the scene, but the odd thing is that no-one in the changing room saw Chichester - I'm sure his presence would've caused comment."

Sgt. Dhillon is true to her word and soon you are shown to a small room. Bagged and tagged before you is a pile of neatly folded clothes (a pair of tracksuit trousers and a plain T-shirt), a small holdall, a mobile phone, a plastic spray bottle and a set of keys (car keys with Porsche key fob, apartment door key and a smaller key to his garage).

Jordan examines the phone first, checking if it still works.

Skipper looks at Izzy in mock horror. "Typical bloke? I feel stereotyped and degraded. Judge me as an individual, not a cask-load of testosterone and ripped muscle."

"On the topic though, have the Met grabbed old mate's motor or is it still sitting in the leisure centre car park, I wonder?" He points at the seized keys without touching. "Might be some interesting odds and sods in it. As you know, a typical bloke's motor is full of personal stuff like a typical girl's handbag."

"Not to mention his house and lock-up, course. Lock-ups are well dodgy for storing your dead bodies, pervy stuff and the like."

He looks down at the other items and tilts his head. "Plastic spray bottle's a bit dodgy innit? What's that for?"

Jordan is very lucky.

Luck roll (51% stat) to see if the phone works:
d%

As if on que, Sgt. Dhillon's phone 'bings'. Excusing herself, she reads the text message with a frown.

"Hm, funny you should mention the bottle... Forensics have just taken a look at the liquid residue inside it - most of it had dried out, so there was only a thin scraping. Their results are pretty inconclusive - it's some kind of plant extract, but they can't work anything out other than that. They're scratching their heads - it actually says that - 'we're scratching our heads'."

Examining the phone, your hearts sink at the tell-tale sandy shaking sound it makes when you shake it.

However this, the bottle and the clothes all emit a strange floral smell.

How's about another Sense Vestigia roll?

Jordan detects something beyond the floral smell.

Sense Vestigia roll (30% skill) about the bottle and the clothes:
d%

You realise the smell is actually a vestigia. Concentrating a little harder, you also sense the feeling of strong sunlight on the skin and the chittering of tropical birds and insects.

Izzy quickly updates her case notes in her notepad and shares them with the others, as Sgt. Dhillon gives them the info.

Talk to Sgt. Dhillon - done and dusted What was his job? - Advertising executive - which company? Colleagues/clients connected to incident? Any immediate family/friends? Notified yet? Any close friends who may be practitioners? Anyone with a grudge - any recent fallings out? - Tried to fight Shaun Rushgrove after trying it on with his girlfriend, Holly Tremlett. Cautioned, no charges pressed. History of voyeurism? Vestigia around brain - flowers, sun on skin, tropical birds - has he been abroad recently? Likes sports cars - mid life crisis? Likes Grimesy, hates Loz Drivez, what were his political leanings? Red herring? - Drove Porsche Boxster - deffo mid life crisis. Check phone for microchip damage - sanded - as expected. CCTV - if entrance further from changing room, might be operational - could get time of entry - also other people, did everyone in building leave at closing time?

"Huh, perfect timing." Izzy gives a quick smile towards the sergeant as she takes a closer look at the bottle. "Hmm. Smells like my washing machine tablets. I take it by 'scratching their heads' they couldn't work out which plant the extract came from?"

Before focusing as usual on the vestigia clearly coming from the bottle and clothes, Izzy gives a slightly apologetic look at Skipper, though tempered by a mildly cheeky smirk, whilst clutching her shoulder bag just a little closer. "Most of what I have in here is work related, you know. Unless you count sandwiches from Molly, travel makeup, hair brush, keys, purse, emergency tampons," (she watches for a squirm at that one) "earphones, water bottle, mints..."

Before he can answer, she leans in and clears her mind for a moment...

Sense Vestigia: 60%

1d100

Lucky! Just about succeeded!

"Flowers, sunlight, tropical fauna..." Izzy murmured to herself as she leant closer in. "As expected. Sarge, do we know if Mr. Chichester had been abroad recently? And if not, we need to put that on the system as an action."

She also makes another quick update to her notes.

"I can sense it too this time," says Jordan. "The phone's a brick, unfortunately."

Skipper snorts, quietly amused by Izzy's handbag. "Exactly what I'm saying."

He listens to the sandy-sounding phone, a bit disappointed. "So this is the side effect we've been warned about."

He looks over at Sgt Dhillon. "Ah Sergeant, has old mate's Porsche been located then?" He rattles the key fob in the plastic bag, trying to decide if it is as dead as the phone. "And do these things still have a real key hidden inside them?"

"You're asking the wrong girl," Dhillon replies. "I'm not really into cars."

"No exotic holidays that we know of recently - from what we can tell he spent most of his considerable monthly wage on cars, motoring events and the like. We haven't located his Porsche yet, but if it's not parked up at the leisure centre then it'll be parked at his home address."

"I don't know what's happened to his phone - perhaps it broke when he collapsed?"

If you can't think of anything else to do with the phone, perhaps an Observation test will help?

The phone may be 'sanded', but looking it over, you notice a card in the SD slot.

1d%50%

Regular success (just).

Skipper points out the SD card and looks at Izzy. "Would that have got fried when the rest of the phone got turned into a brick?"

He peers suspiciously at the spray too. "And is there a Falcon version of being roofie-ed? Like one spray and you can't say no, like an evil love potion?" A brief flash of extreme revulsion crosses Skipper's features.

"Worth a try," says Jordan. He pops out the SD card and swaps it out with the one in his own phone to see if it will work.

Observation roll (70% skill) about the phone:
d%

"Only one way to find out," Izzy replies, regarding the SD card, and she watches to see what happens when Jordan inserts it into his own phone.

As they wait, she's pleased to see that Skipper is just as disgusted as she is at the idea of love potions and controlling people in such a way. She'd always hated that part of Harry Potter. Even aside from being a proud LGBT woman herself.

"Not that I've ever seen or heard of myself, but there is something called the glamour." Izzy gives Skipper and Jordan a very brief rundown of the glamour, as used by various Fae and river goddesses to charm the minds of others, in the best way a geeky girl like her can - through talking about Dungeons and Dragons and the 'Charm Person' spell.

Skipper listens to Izzy's explanation and shrugs, unperturbed. "Sounds like any number of online computer games I've played. I am getting the feeling our man had some women issues, though."


He chinks the keys through their bag while they are waiting to see what the SD card might show. "Guess we should go take a look at Chichester's gaff and lock-up? I assume your colleagues have got the addresses."

"I've played with my son," says Jordan. "I play a cleric, of course. Elves are mostly immune to Charm Person, I remember."

Perhaps thankfully, Sgt. Dhillon is occupied with a message coming through her radio to take much notice of your conversation.

Meanwhile, accessing the SD card brings up a number of photos, obviously taken on Chichester's phone. They are of woman in various states of undress, clearly taken in the female changing area of the leisure centre. The last couple of photo files are corrupted, but from what you can tell, they are clearly on the same theme.

As you study your findings, Dhillon concludes her call.

"Alright, but if she isn't pressing charges there's not a lot we can do," she huffs. "Let him know we'll be keeping an eye on him. Over and out."

She walks over, peering to take a look at Jordan's phone.

"What have you found? Did I here you mention Chichester's gaff? I've got the address if you want to go there."

"I found out what Chichester was doing in the ladies' changing room," says Jordan, popping out the SD card and handing it back. "The pervert was accessing a hidden camera there. The pictures are on that card. We would like the address, please. I'll call the group at the leisure center. If they haven't found the camera yet, they need to locate it." He replaces his own card in his phone and calls Leo.

"Oh dear, taking photos of a sexual nature without consent. The late Chichester is another one determined to make us embarrassed to be members of the male gender."

After a brief moment's thought, Skipper slots the SD card into his indefatigable-looking tablet and calls up the photos. "Having said that, you will be surprised to hear I have some interest in photography. There is some useful info to be gained here."

Skipper will check a few (less explicit) photos' meta-data to confirm if they were indeed taken with Chichester's phone or some other species of camera. "Photo files contain lots of useful detail on what camera or phone took the photo, when, that sort of thing."

"The more bigger question is where was he, or at least where was the camera, when these photos were taken?" Skipper casts a professional eye over the photos, trying to decide if they were from some hidden position or smack bang in the middle of the crowd.

Skipper will attempt a few skill rolls, in case they're needed.

1d%pHpH60%

OOC:   Regular success.

1d%p60%

OOC:   Fail.

Happy to spend 8 Luck to make the Photography a Hard Success, if that helps.

Seeing the photos on the SD card, Izzy is filled with absolute rage directed towards the man whose death they are investigating. She's no stranger to pictures of scantily clad women - her own teen years and sexual awakening, and of course, more than a few candid pics taken with Alice, saved on her own personal phone... but all with consent, and certainly not filmed by a seedy pervert in the changing rooms of a public leisure centre. For a brief moment, she wonders why they're even bothering to investigate the man's death. Surely his erasure from the world is to the benefit of all...

But no. Izzy knows that she doesn't have to like the corpse to solve the mystery of how he died. It's her duty, one she signed up for the moment she stepped through Hendon's doors. She swallows her anger, and forces herself to focus on the case at hand, as she rapidly updates the scribbles in her notebook.

As Izzy tries to think about the case, she notes Sgt. Dhillon's comments. "Sorry, don't mean to listen in, but you said something about pressing charges? If that's an unrelated case then just ignore me, but if it's anything to do with Mr. Chichester... then we probably need to know what's happened."

She doesn't want to eavesdrop, but one of the things she was taught as a trainee was to always keep a sharp eye, and a sharp ear, out for any information that might be relevant.

To Skipper, she's actually quite impressed at the consideration of where the photos were taken. Although she's not certain if there's a spell to turn someone invisible (one to ask Peter or Nightingale later), it's not unheard of in pop culture for someone to use such power to spy on people without being seen.

Jordan - Dhillon wrinkles her nose in distaste when you describe the photos. Leaving her to speak to Izzy, you enter Leo's number and wait for him to answer.

Skipper - While lacking the ability to make any sense of the photos' metadata, your expert eye is able to ascertain that the photos were taken on a phone and not, say, a hidden spy camera, sometime during the evening by the look of the lighting. Additionally, judging by the different camera angles, the photographer moved around.

You also notice that some of the photos contain mirrors, but in each one there is no reflection of the photographer.

Izzy - Dhillon mulls over your question, nodding at the wisdom of it.

"Could be connected I suppose. A falling-out over a parking space in Tesco's car park. Some guy in a sportscar vying with an old dear in a Morris Traveller. It seems he lost his temper and a passer-by called it in. Looks like he'd calmed down and apologised by the time an officer responded. As you heard - no charges pressed and everything settled amicably."

"Yes, that may be relevant," says Jordan. "What were the names of the drivers?"

Jordan - Dhillon checks her notepad. "Um, Nick Lucarotti and Bernadette Stevens."

Before you can respond, Leo answers your call.

"Hey, mate. We found some non-fried video of him entering the car park and dressing room that may or may not be of use. All of the electronics are up and running, so the "event" may have been over the long term rather than a single powerful event. Making any progress on your end?" he says, before you can get a word in.

"Hey, Leo," says Jordan. "Chichester's phone was bricked, but we were able to salvage the SD card and found out what he was doing in the ladies' changing area. The creep was secretly taking pictures of them as they were changing. Skipper determined that they were taken with a phone, not a camera. It might not have been this phone, so see if you can find another one hidden there. The cause of death was cauliflower brain, all right. We also found out other details. He was known to the police already. He got into a scuffle with Shaun Rushgrove when he tried to hit on the man's girlfriend, Holly Tremlett. No charges were filed, but he was cautioned."

Skipper will definitely spend the 8 Luck!

Skipper studies the photos for a few moments, doing some mental angles and positions. He starts to frown. "Umm, OK, Izzy and Jordan, have a look at this." He points out the mirrors and lack of reflection.

"Ah, forget evil roofie love potions. Is it even possible? Did he make himself invisible? That would explain how he was able to walk around taking photos with a phone right in the middle of his victims."

On Jordan’s phone, Leo’s response is:

"Holy...Okay, we will definitely search all the changing areas for any lingering devices of that nature."

"One more thing, the video shows Chichester go in the disabled changing area. Then the doors to the other rooms open and close without anyone visible doing so. I will try to get a copy to bring back to The Folly to share."

"Anything else?"

Skipper hears Leo, looks at Jordan and points at the photos, raising his eyebrows.

"Sergeant Dhillon got a call while we were here that could be related," says Jordan. "A Nick Lucarotti in a sports car got into an argument over a space at a Tesco's car park with an old lady in a Morris Traveller named Bernadette Stevens. Someone called it in, but the chap calmed down and apologised by the time the officer got there, and there were no charges."

"That's everything on my end, mate. Thanks for the call," is Leo’s reply, before terminating the call.

As Jordan's phone call ends, Izzy looks over at him. "What's the good word then? Did Leo find some personal trainer with a six pack to start lusting after?" She grins, though it's a little hypocritical. Still, she didn't meet Alice whilst on the job...

"Seriously though, did they find anything useful?"

As she waits for Jordan to summarise the call, she turns to Skipper to respond to his own query.

"I was thinking the exact same thing. I've not heard of anything that can turn someone invisible, but I'm sure Peter or the guv'nor would have done. That would explain how he could be in the women's changing rooms without being noticed, if he was walking around instead of hiding somewhere."

She thinks for a moment. "Right. That would be something he'd have to concentrate on, so a lot of power drain on one person. Advanced stuff. Which greatly increases the risk of HTD. So that stands up as a theory on how he died. It would also explain the microchips, if he used a spell to achieve the effect while he had his phone on him. Although, he couldn't have used it as a camera then, if the phone was dead as soon as he cast the spell."

What was the timeline? As far as Izzy can tell, the timing here is critical to understanding the late Pervy McPervface's final moments.

Jordan relays Leo's message. "So maybe he did use this phone, and it got bricked after he took the pictures," he says. "He didn't have to have a hidden camera at all if he couldn't be seen. Want me to call him back and let him know?"

"Might be worth it. Or just drop him a text." Either way, as long as they're sharing information, they can start to piece everything together on both ends...

Jordan nods and texts Leo to let him know what they've discovered about the possibility that Chichester was invisible and may have taken the pictures with the phone they found after all.

Skipper, holding the bagged keys, looks over to Sgt Dhillon. "Ah, Sergeant, I think we will need Chichester's home address after all, please." He sounds fractionally nervous when addressing 'real' police.

He turns back to Izzy. "If Old Mate had a few trial runs, I'm guessing he would have figured out pretty quickly your weirdness was bad for phones. So perhaps he was using this power away from his phone then going back and collecting it once he was invisible, something like that?"

"Where does the spray fit in this, I wonder?"

Skipper holds up the bagged keys. "I still want to have a look around the abode of Chichester. Make a nice change to be able to do it without fear of getting banged up."

"And can I add, of all the things you could do if you were invisible! Steal a fortune from drug dealers, visit famous places, become a superhero, that sort of thing. This guy just unleashes his inner sex offender."

Leo replies "thanks" to Jordan's text.

Meanwhile, Dhillon flips through her notebook.

"Chichester's address... Sorry, you asked me before... Ah, here it is. Looks like he had an apartment at Weyside, Catteshall Lane, Godalming - pretty expensive. Wanna go there next?"

"I think we should," says Jordan.

"Agreed. If there's nothing else to find here."

A thought comes to mind. "Sergeant, out of interest... did anyone try scraping the fluid residue from the bottle onto something? Just to see what the effect might be, if there's enough? As in, something safe, like a sheet of paper or cloth or something." Obviously not suggesting to scrape on someone's hand, in case it turns out to be acid or similar...

Skipper looks at the spray bottle with renewed respect. "So the spray could be a bit like Bilbo's ring? When Chichester used it, he wasn't using his own magic battery power so didn't zap his phone. And he needed his phone working so he could be a pervy creep."

"Then what? He decides for some reason to use his power, and fries his phone. Missing the SD card, luckily for us. And not just his phone, he also manages to do a number on his own head." Skipper taps one of his temples with a free finger for emphasis.

"It's funny, I've known a few dealers who've managed the same thing, using their own product. My parents, for starters."

"Well, let's go have a butcher's at his gaff."

"Hm - I'll contact Forensics. I've not had the results yet," Sgt. Dhillon says in response to Izzy's question. "I'll also get a spare key from the supervisor of Chichester's apartment."

It takes a few minutes to do this, with Forensics promising to get back to you ASAP.

Jordan, you have the lowest Luck - a Luck roll if you please.

It takes some time to drive from Guildford to Godalming (a technical fault at the Hindhead Tunnel ensuring that traffic is snarled up throughout the area). You pull into the car park of a modern apartment complex - one of several that line Catteshall Lane - on the north-east outskirts of the town.

Waiting for you at the entrance is the supervisor - an young-ish fellow in overalls - with a spare key to Chichester's flat.

Jordan has a feeling that they're going to be a while.

Luck roll (51% stat) to see how Forensics does:
d%

Skipper looks at the apartment complex with un-love. "Looks like what the MOD build for unmarried officers' quarters these days."

He looks over at the young super. "Lead on, my lad. Let's go see Mr Chichester's place. And do you have lock-ups for residents' motors?"

The supervisor nods. "Yeah," he says in an Eastern European accent. "Garage block 'round the back. Mr. Chichester's place is on third floor - follow me. Nice guy - well, used to be. Shame he's dead."

As he lets you into the building, Sgt. Dhillon lets out an exasperated sigh at an incoming text.

[6] = 6
1d10: [ 6 ] = 6

"Forensics says it'll take three days until they get a result on the spray. I hope you're not in a hurry."

"Maybe I could help them," says Jordan. "Chemistry isn't my speciality, but I do have some skill in it, and in forensics."

Skipper looks back at Jordan with slight concern. "Let's wait until after we've searched Chichester's, big guy. Old Mate might have an angry pro-wrestler flatmate you need to demonstrate those rugby skills on. And what happens if he has a pet poisonous snake and it bites me? Without you, I'll have to rely on the Met's finest."

Skipper looks back at Izzy and Sgt Dhillon dubiously, clearly unconvinced of their snake poison first aid skills, and possibly even their rugby skills.

As they enter, Izzy can't help but compare the apartment complex mentally with Argyle Court, her own building on Seven Sisters Road, where she lives in the top floor one-bedroom flat. Most of Argyle Court has since been taken over as an 'aparthotel' with rooms to rent for short stays, but Izzy had managed to get her own permanent place before then. Though even with some help from Alice spending most of her time there these days (easier than travelling from Whitechapel every day for dates and snuggles), the place still looks like a bit of a bomb site...

"Damn. Here's hoping it's not too important, or we can find a bigger sample in the flat." She's referring to the response from Forensics. Izzy thinks about how in most murder cases, the first 48 hours can be vital in finding evidence and establishing facts - even if most of those cases aren't usually solved for days more, or even weeks or months later.

As for Skipper's comment, she gives him a quick cheeky smirk. "If I had my hockey stick with me then we'd have no problem, except an accusation of police brutality. Remember I told you back in the countryside though, I was never a rugby girl." She says nothing of her snake charming skills though, by virtue of the fact that she has none to her own knowledge...

Jordan nods. "I'll help out here first, of course," he says, following the super.

Chichester’s apartment is clean and well appointed; furnished in a utilitarian style typical of a single man’s abode. The main source of decoration appears to photographs and posters of sports cars (occasionally featuring a scantily-clad woman draped across them) and a Pirelli calendar in the kitchen.

I assume you'll be wanting to make some Observation and Sense Vestigia rolls? By all means have at it!

Izzy's gaze is drawn, not unappreciatively, to the posters and the Pirelli calendar first - damn hormones - before she refocuses and begins her usual hunt for clues and vestigia...

Sense Vestigia - 60%:

1d100

Observation - 60%:

1d100

Vestigia fail, observation extreme success!

Jordan doesn't look too closely at the scantily-clad women in the posters. They don't have anything Sarah doesn't have. He presumes. Well, except a fabulous sports car, but with his salary he could remedy that if she wants one. He certainly isn't paying much attention to them, anyway. Or to much of anything else here, for that matter.

Observation roll (70% skill) in the flat:
d%
Sense Vestigia roll (30% skill) in the flat:
d%

1d%50%

Regular success.

1d%30%

Skipper will spend 3 Luck to make that a regular success, if he can.

Skipper regards both the nice motors and young ladies in the posters with equal, but not excessive, frank approval. "Nice."

He begins a professional search of the premises.

While Jordan notices nothing of interest, Izzy and Skipper between them have better luck.

A now familiar vestigia is detected by Skipper - a floral scent, the feeling of strong sunlight on the skin and the chittering of tropical birds and insects. The feeling seems stronger in the small kitchen-diner than in any other room.

Admiring the calendar, Izzy notices that there are a few dates marked with mundane work meetings and appointments. However two dates – the second Wednesday of the last two months – are ringed with red marker pen.

Skipper notices that the only reading material in the apartment consists of motoring magazines.

yes, you may spend some Luck.

Done.

"Damn, this is starting to rub off on me. I can feel that vestigia thing more in the kitchen.... Same as you described."

Skipper focuses his attention on the kitchen /diner. He checks under the sink, in all the bottles etc. He checks anything in a bottle or packet in the pantry.

"Clearly our man's motor obsessed. His lock-up ought to be interesting."

"Speaking of cars," says Jordan, "let's check out his next."

"Hold up a moment..." Izzy raises a finger as she looks at the calendar. "Couple of dates here... the last two months, second Wednesday of the month. Might have been something important to the deceased, considering he marked them on here."

She turns to the supervisor. "I take it Mr. Chichester lived alone? No girlfriend, flatmate, anything like that? And do you know if he went out on these dates, or had anyone over then?"

She winces slightly at the idea that any woman might have been unfortunate enough to have been in a relationship with the late Karl. Izzy then updates her notepad with the information and knowledge gained so far here.

The supervisor shrugs at Izzy.

"No - never saw any girlfriend. In love with his car maybe, but no girls. Come to think of it, most of the girls that live here seemed creeped out by him - certainly during the last few months I guess."

He looks at the calendar.

"Hmm... not during the day, when I work. I finish at eight - sometimes later, but I never saw him leave then. He worked from home most days, so I would've seen. Night-time maybe?"

He turns to Jordan, jangling his bunch of keys.

"Got garage key here when you're ready."

Meanwhile, Skipper looks around the kitchen. Opening the cupboard under the sink, he is almost knocked back by the strength of the vestigia! Rooting through the bottles of detergent and washing-up liquid, the source of said vestigia appears to come from a 2 litre plastic container. Tucked away in the dark recesses at the back of the cupboard, it seems to glow...

"Whoa!" Skipper, crouching down already, reels back and lands on his rear end, just getting a hand down in time to avoid glutial bruising. "Aylesbury!"

"Ah, Voodoo Child, this is so definitely yours!" He prudently scuttles back a metre further and points at the suspect container.

Jordan hurries to the kitchen in case his medical assistance is needed. "Yeah, we want to be careful with that stuff," he says.

Part of Izzy is relieved for the potential girlfriends' sakes to hear that Karl apparently didn't have one, though she does suspect that maybe he's been spending a bit of time on the incel websites. For now, she asks the sergeant to put an action on HOLMES for a uniform to look into any local events or gatherings that took place on the dates marked on the calendar, with an emphasis on anything relating to cars or to the leisure centre.

At the call from Skipper, she dashes into the kitchen to see what he's pointing at. Izzy wastes no time in extracting a standard issue set of latex gloves from her shoulder bag, for evidence handling without getting fingerprints all over the merchandise, and after putting them on, pulls out the bottle of strange glowing stuff from the cupboard.

"I don't think I'll be using this in the dishwasher any time soon... Sarge, can we get a sample of whatever's in here to pass to Forensics? I've got a suspicion that this might be the same as whatever was in the spray bottle from the incident scene."

Skipper clambers back to his feet and looks at the container suspiciously. "So, doesn't seem like a one-off then. Old Mate was either buying in bulk from his supplier, or making it himself maybe?"

(He has an easier time relating this to drugs than spookiness.)

"I'm wondering how he - or someone else -found out the formula," says Jordan. "He didn't strike me as a chemist. And we've found nothing to indicate how it's made here. It would be interesting to see his Internet search and browser history."

"That's a good point," says Izzy, as she pulls out another few pairs of latex gloves from her bag and hands them to Skipper, Jordan, and Sgt. Dhillon (the latter of whom would of course already be aware of evidence handling procedures).

"Here, put these on. We don't want to contaminate any evidence with our own fingerprints. We should have a look for anything like a laptop, tablet, even other phones. If they're not sanded then it's something else for Forensics to take a gander at."

Because chances are they won't be likely to guess any PIN or password themselves...

The glow fades when the container if brought out into the daylight. The small amount of liquid inside seems to cling to the bottom with a rainbow shimmer, similar to that of oil upon water.

Some childish-looking handwriting is written on the side of the container in faded black marker pen. It says 'pRopertY of FlOwers FeildS'

Donning suitable gloves, Sgt. Dhillon is happy to take charge of the container.

"Yeah, I'll get this to Forensics," she says with a nod, placing it into an evidence bag.

There is indeed a laptop, set upon a small desk where Chichester obviously worked from when not at his office, judging from the paperwork piled neatly adjacent.

To access the laptop, you'll need a Computer Use test.

Seeing Skipper crack his knuckles while wearing latex gloves is more than a little creepy, as he descends on the laptop. "Ah ha ha, I can't promise miracles but the more gutter end of Fleet Street used to pay me to do this." He pulls out some chunky old, black-rimmed, NHS-issue glasses and puts them on, then powers the laptop up, while scouring the area for clues to passwords.

1d%p60%

Regular success.

"His emails should be interesting too," says Jordan.

Izzy glances nervously at Sgt. Dhillon before stepping away from the laptop.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," she says to Skipper. After all, she'd rather not be party to the wildly illegal searching of a laptop without a warrant, even if the owner is deceased.

Not that most evidence in Falcon cases can be reasonably submitted to a mundane court of law. And also considering that aside from voyeurism, they don't have a specific crime yet to be investigating.

Skipper grunts, amused, as he focuses on the laptop. "I believe I could put up a pretty good legal argument that exigent circumstances require the urgent examination of the laptop, previous to any search warrant being obtained if needed, given Old Mate died in mysterious circumstances that may potentially be putting others in real danger too."

"That said, I cannot imagine too many of these Falcon jobs wind up being scrutinised for proper procedure by a Beak at the Old Bailey."

"But if you are not listening, I have some more tales for you not to hear. There was this time we were on shore leave in Greece. I met this Austrian backpacker lass who had the weirdest ideas about how best to experience sites of great cultural significance. Of which Athens is well sufficed..." Skipper continues on with his (others may hope unlikely) tale of indecent behaviour in famous Grecian and Roman tourist attractions, all the while tapping away on the laptop.

It doesn't take long for Skipper to work out Chichester's password (P0rsche9!!).

The man had indeed been trolling Loz Drivez. His motivation? That can be found by reading the many online articles he has bookmarked, written by Will Grimes. 'Grimsey' seems to have developed something of a grudge against the influencer, deriding her motoring and mechanical knowledge. "Leave it to the experts love," seems to be the general theme.

Anything else you want to look at?

"Right you are, my China. Let's have a look at your email and your saved photos. And what is this 'Flowers Fields'?"

Those are Skipper's priorities: Email Saved photos and video Flowers Fields references.

Chichester's emails are largely confined to mundane work related matters, interspersed with forum notifications from motoring websites. There is also an email from a particular video-sharing site stating how his comment on a 'Loz' Drivez' video has been reported to the moderators and removed pending approval.

Saved photos and videos are, predicably, of fast cars and the occasional glamour model.

Searching for Flowers Fields brings up something possibly more useful. Photos of flower gardens and Holland's tulip fields aside, it appears that there is a garden centre nearby with that exact name. At least it is listed in a local business directory as such, giving an address just off the A286 near Grayswood.

Any further investigation with the laptop will require a few more hours' work or the services of a communications & data specialist.

"Shall we check out the car now?" asks Jordan.

Finally, Izzy thinks. Something concrete.

"I'd have thought the car would be at the leisure centre still. Although, might be worth sending someone over there with the keys from Chichester's body, so the others can investigate if it is still parked up there," Izzy says, mainly to Sgt. Dhillon. Simple logic dictates that Karl drove to the leisure centre, and since he died there, he obviously couldn't have driven back.

"Might be something in his garage though, so still worth a look. And then we can check out this 'Flowers Fields' place. See if our stiff was a regular there."

Normally she'd refrain from using terms such as 'stiff' to describe a deceased individual, but Izzy doesn't feel particularly charitable to this particular corpse.

Skipper is feeling rather chipper that his cyber-larceny skills have at last found the hopefully appreciative audience they deserve.

"The lock-up! Let's have a butcher's. With this specimen, there's got to be something exciting innit."

"Place your bets for what's in the lock-up. You too, Sergeant. Winner gets a free beer tonight down the nuclear. I'm going with weird, kinky sex-toy."

Izzy gives Skipper a cheeky grin.

"You know what? I'll take that bet, but... one condition. I win, you're buying mine and Alice's first drinks."

She thinks about the possibilities. Wouldn't be too unexpected to find some kind of fetish stuff in there, after all, Izzy's seen similar, and worse, in other lock-ups during her time with the Met. But given Karl's apparent lack of partner, and overbearing masculinity complex, she doubts it's anything sex related.

"Might be a boring answer, but I'm willing to bet we'll find more of that stuff from Flowers Fields. And probably a load of car magazines and copies of Nuts and Loaded."

While Sgt. Dhillon makes a call to have Chichester's car keys sent to Leo and co., you head down to the garage.

Disappointingly, it is not a fully kitted-out sex dungeon, or whatever it is your salacious minds have conjured up, but an empty space, bounded by plain breezeblock walls,

What little shelving there is lies devoid of tools, unless car shampoo and wax can be classed as such. Clearly the area was used to store Chichester's pride and joy, but not to maintain it.

However, what you do notice is an all-too familiar vestigia - very faint, but there nonetheless - the smell of tropical flowers, the feeling of strong sunlight and the chirruping of exotic birds or insects.

Skipper doesn't hesitate with Izzy's gambling condition. "It's a deal, the bet is on," he answers with a brief flash of unexpected gallantry. (Or possibly gambling addiction.)

However, the actual lock-up is not playing ball. "More of an anti-climax than my last date night," is Skipper's considered judgement.

"So, if the spray is a spray-in version of Bilbo's ring, anyone else besides me wondering if perhaps it was actually meant for vehicular transport? As in, you spray it on your wheels and turn your pride and joy into a 'ghost car'." (Air quotes.)

"Except, then maybe the stupid creep starts using it on himself too. To pursue his vendetta against all woman-kind for daring to say sod off. But it's not what the instructions on the packet say. And makes his brain melt."

"Damn. Guess we're buying our own drinks, then."

See, this is why Izzy doesn't normally gamble. Although her dad does like a flutter on the horses every now and then.

"You know, if I keep on getting that same scent of flowers everywhere I go, I'm going to take up smoking just to try and get rid of my sense of smell. More to the point, you think there's something in these ghost car reports that the Sarge mentioned earlier? People putting that stuff on their wheels and racing up and down the tunnel?"

It makes sense, she supposes, but not quite the same 'ghost car' that she's heard of before. Reading back through the Folly's recent records, that one was a lot more homicidal...

"Not sure why the stuff would cause HTD though. It usually happens because a practitioner is drawing too much from their own body when casting a spell. Or a powerful magical event happens nearby, and I mean extreme. Assuming the bottle was a sort of spray-on invisibility cloak, the magic would be inherent within the liquid already, there's no reason to suggest it would cause an extreme secondary event that led to the damage in his brain. Otherwise we'd have corpses turning up all over the place of people who'd used the spray on other cars.

"The more likely cause would be either Karl cast a spell himself and overloaded, or there was somebody else there who did the same thing and was more able to withstand the damage. First one seems more likely though, we've not seen any evidence yet that someone else was present."

Izzy is careful to not mention too much about "weird bollocks" in earshot of Sgt. Dhillon, of course. Even if she is vaguely aware of Falcon activities...

"As a matter of interest, is there any way to check that this Loz Drivez bird is OK? Do a door knock sort of thing. Just make sure she's safe."

"Good idea," says Jordan. "We should ask her about Chichester anyway. Then we can check the car itself, which probably is at the leisure center. I think this stuff may be responsible for those reports of ghost cars, but it doesn't exactly strike me as safe to race invisible cars. It would be hard to avoid a collision."

"Probably a good idea, but depends if she's local. If she lives halfway across the country then there's not much point doing a welfare check over some dead misogynist running his mouth."

Somehow Izzy doesn't think that Loz Drivez is the key focus to worry about. Besides, a uniform under Dhillon can handle a simple welfare call.

"I'd say it's time to visit Flowers Fields."

Skipper grunts noncommittaly. "Folly's paying the bills, so I'll go wherever. I am having visions of the late Chichester using his Harry Potter invisibility-cloak-juice to go and strangle this girl, though. If a couple of Met uniforms were able to go knock on her door, make sure she still has a pulse, I'll feel happier."

"Meantime, let's go see the gardening centre. I could do with a new cactus." Skipper looks like he has reservations says no more.

"Yes, that's probably our best lead," says Jordan. "The stuff seems to have come from there."

Sgt. Dhillon nods.

"Flowers Fields it is - I've never heard of the place, but Haslemere Garden Centre is on that road, so I guess it must be close by."

"Oh, Lauren Hewison's in Shalford - not too far away. She's got form - she and her brothers were right tearaways when they were kids, but she's come good since she got on the internet. We get a call to her workshop now and then - overzealous fans usually."

"Look, if we're heading off, we'd better collect your friends - my guv'nor told me to keep an eye on you all, so I wanna keep you together."

"Good idea," says Jordan. "We should compare notes anyway."

Skipper grunts again, looking at the good Sergeant Dhillon. "So shouldn't be a problem to get a couple of uniforms over to the lass's gaff in Shalford then?"

"Otherwise, good to go find a new cactus. Has Izzy told you about the giant Venus fly-trap plants they grow in the basement hydro at the Folly? Toothy leaves big as those giant underwater clams. Just saying we should be on our toes in a Falcon-related plant nursery."

Sgt. Dhillon nods.

"I'll give your pals a call - we'll meet up at the garden centre."

While she does that, Jordan's phone rings. It's Dr. Friedman.

"Ah, Dr. Schneider!" his voice booms. "I've some news for you. I've run some more test and Mr. Chichester and, among his stomach contents, I found something odd - a moss of some kind. Also, I got one of the tech guys to do a 3D scan of the brain and re-inflate it virtually - very clever stuff! It allowed me to examine it before the atrophy. It looks like the poor guy was already suffering from some kind of gradual brain degradation. Over the last couple of months by my reckoning."

Hanging up on the others, Dhillon then calls into the station to arrange for someone to visit Lauren Hewison's place.

"Yeah, okay, understood," she says, frowning as she turns to the investigators. "Sorry, no-one's free - got a violent assault at some pub in Chilworth. Pretty much everyone available is dealing with that."

"Thank you, Dr. Friedman," says Jordan. "Can you identify the moss?" He fills in the others on what he's been told.

Skipper grunts and looks at Dhillon. "Any record of a phone number then? At least we could call her, make sure she's OK."

Izzy is pretty certain she's heard nothing of any giant Venus fly traps, especially not singing ones like Audrey II, and she's definitely not heard of a basement hydro room at the Folly, but she doesn't worry too much about that. More concerning to her is the news of the violent assault in Chilworth.

"That's, what, the third or fourth incident that's happening right now involving violent assault? Do you normally get this many cases of violence in one go? That'd be a lot even for just one station to deal with in the city, I didn't think Guildford was that dangerous a place..."

She has a sneaking suspicion at the back of her mind that the apparent glut of violence is connected in some way to their deceased sexist petrolhead.

Before the sergeant can answer, Izzy listens to the voice of Dr. Friedman informing Jordan of his findings. It's hard not to hear when the voice coming from the phone is so loud even without being put on speaker.

"HTD can develop over time, it doesn't just come on in one sharp burst. Hazard of the job." She makes a mental note to get an MRI booked with Dr's Walid and Vaughn at some point soon, just to keep an eye on her own condition.

"So whatever he was doing, he must have been overusing... well, overdoing it on the Falcon stuff for a good while. Finally tipped over the edge by whatever happened at the leisure centre. Could do with a sample of the moss though. And we can keep an eye out at Flowers Fields for anything that might resemble the same."

"Pfft, not sure about the moss - I've sent it away for analysis, but, knowing how little we discovered about the substance on Chichester's skin, I'm not holding out much hope. I'll keep you posted if anything comes up." Dr. Friedman replies.

Sgt. Dhillon replies thus: "I'll tell the Case Progression team to call Hewison and tell her to expect us. As for the assault - you might have a point. It's another middle-aged guy kicking off when someone parked too close to his Ferrari - I guess there's a sale on mid-life crisis nutters at the minute."

"Right you are then. Let's see what horrors the little plant nursery holds." Ascot starts singing "Feed Me, Seymour" to himself.

"Thanks again," says Jordan. "Can you describe the moss's appearance? We'll be going to a place soon where there's likely to be moss, and I'd like to see if the same type is there. I may be able to help with the analysis later too, when I'm not so busy." He nods when he hears about the assault. There's probably a connection there.

"A reddish tinge?" Dr. Friedman offers. "Difficult to tell given the small quantity. I'll let you know if I find anything else."

And with that, it's time to head out to Flowers Fields.