Covent Garden, London - 27th November 1932
The club stands at the heart of the district which is divided by the main thoroughfare of Long Acre, north of which is given over to independent shops centered on Neal's Yard and Seven Dials, while the south contains the central square with its street performers and most of the elegant buildings, theatres and entertainment facilities. Covent Garden, bustling with bars and clubs, is a welcome retreat from the dank and foggy London night. A mere ten minute walk from Scotland Yard the Lounge Bohemia was a natural draw for the younger and trendier members of London's finest. Such was the reputation of the music, serene atmosphere and well priced food and ale that its attraction drew others as well. The Lounge's growing reputation as a police bar was, to most, irrelevant.
For Amanda it was just another day at the job, she was beginning to garner something of a reputation that was spreading beyond the walls of the Lounge. That made her equal parts apprehensive and excited, she was comfortable in the small club. Her fans, that frequented the stage seats, gave her confidence that led to her celebrated performances - the Evening Standard had even described her as "enchanting"!
Millicent sat in her usual spot, nibbling the end of her pencil, her notebooks strewn on the table in front of her, the ashtray beginning to fill up...the cocktail beginning to empty. She waited for tonight performance, surely she would find some inspiration tonight...surely. She nodded a friendly greeting as, across the room, her acquaintance Felix took his usual table. He raised his glass and smiled warmly in response.
He was a good sort, another writer. A pang of jealously suddenly and unexpectedly ran through her, he had little care for inspiration - when the Yard called, he had a story on a plate! Maybe not tonight though as his main, go-to source was propping up the bar. She didn't care for Detective Grimes, the sour fellow was short on patience and shorter on temper. He had a haunted look, but perhaps it might be worth digging a little deeper there. Deep melancholy seemed to sell in certain circles...surely...
George Grimes pushed the second pint glass of best bitter across to his friend Sam Reed. They had crossed paths in his dealings at the Yard and George was prepared to overlook the more dubious elements of his business, as the man knew his stuff when it came to antiques. He also moved in circles that a police detective found hard to penetrate. Sam had been invaluable in the summer of '31 when George had put an end to a crew of ruffians with a specialty for breaking into West end properties, butchering the occupants and gutting the contents for resale on the black market. The crew had swung naturally but the unusual friendship held fast and Sam and George met often, both socially and professionally. George looked over to where Felix sat; the man had also done him favours, in his line of work you took all the good press that was available. He was his go-to guy when it came to press releases, 'but not tonight' he thought 'by God I'm tired'...
But that was an hour ago, and now the five stood uncomfortably in the hallway of the dingy student apartment. The clock on a nearby church gently rung out a quarter to ten in the evening, the soft sizzle of constant rain muffling its sound. A constable, pale and agitated, paced back and forth.
Grimes held court, at home in a crime scene. Millicent was impressed, sour attitude or not, he was clearly a very competent detective and she was still reeling that Felix had dragged her along, muttering about collaboration into a book on multiple murderers in the capital. The singer, Amanda, looked pale...understandable when your neighbor is butchered at home. The five waited for the police doctor to finish his ghoulish work and then they could get some answers. Sam looked uncomfortable dragged along by Grimes on the understanding 'this won't take long and then we can get back to it, we've barely had time for a drink...'
OOC: The investigation opens in media res, with the investigators being summoned to the scene of a murder at a student apartment in Wellington Street, Strand, London.. Forgive the slight hand-wavium to allow you all to participate in the opening scene! |