Log in

No account? Create an account
04 December 2006 @ 11:50 am

Los Angeles, Thursday, August 24 1932. At least it had stopped raining for now. It almost made me homesick for England. Of course in England it would also be cold and dreary. I had just been hired by Lindsey McDonald. Who, by the way, was sporting a cold. When I left the office my secretary Cordelia also seemed to be heading toward the same direction. Americans, a little bit of rain and they catch a cold. Sometimes they are so fragile.

Lindsey order of not questioning the family was going unheard. Besides, I had watched as he had left the premises, which meant he’d already talked to them. His words were that I wasn’t to talk to them until he had. My chances were clear. I had already done some preliminary work. Dolores Preston was a descent girls her co-workers at the library had told me. Never got into any trouble, was dating a nice chap but hadn’t gotten around to engagement yet. The nice chap in question, Clarence Clayborn - what were those parents thinking? - turned out to have a unblemished record himself.

Nice fellow, no problems with the law, no shady dealings on the side. Almost to good to be true I’d say.

Which was more then could be said about the Miss Preston’s brother. It was easy to find dirt on Billy Preston, far to easy. Gambling bets, pub bills, mob connections, your typical rich boy gone of the track. There was also rumor of drug use and alcohol abuse. It made me wonder if perhaps this was a little to obvious.

What was more interesting was the talk I had with Ronald Preston. Uncle of Delores and Billy but also their guardian. He had informed me that their parents had died in a car accident when the two were still very young and he’d raised them as if they were his own. Ronald Preston had informed me of something which shed a whole new light on the case. A very interesting light that ruled out one of the usual suspects.

That still left plenty for me to sort out.

At Two forty I drove to the corner of fifth where I was to meet with William. I had no doubt that I would find him there, drinking his usual drek of what passed for coffee or tea here. We had things to discus and I needed him to run some errands, tie up some loose ends before I could eliminate more suspects. In the end, as per usual, the one remaining suspect would be our murderer.

Simple rules of elimination.

Picking up the newspaper, I sat down on our usual spot and folded it open. My eyes caught the screaming head on the front page right away. It was hard to miss it, as boldly printed as it was. I found myself wincing at the words. It had only been a day since McDonald had hired me, and until now I’d not had the time to inform Liam as such. Our rule was not to talk about business when… in private, but I’d not seen him until now. Knowing his explosive nature however, I knew there would be trouble ahead.

I’d have to take care of that later though. Now, I had a case to solve. And an arrant brother to show up in order to solve it.

Damn Lilah Morgan and her snooping anyway.

[Open to dear brother William]
Current Mood: busy
William the Bloody: hair slicked back (1930s)sired1880spike on December 6th, 2006 12:49 am (UTC)
My coffee with Miss Morgan hadn't turned into anything much, which was a shame. Damn fine lookin' woman. Good gams. But it was a connection, at any rate. My brother might sniff at the newspapers, but I found their stories entertaining. Wes worries too much about "truth". I'm just worried that's going to get him into trouble one of these days.

It had been a quiet sort of day, all in all. I was thinking I might head to Caritas tonight, just to liven things up a bit. Wasn't sure if Fred would give me a slappin' if I saw her. I had left it a while, I admit. But she had made it clear she wasn't lookin' for true love, so I wasn't too worried. But that was tonight, and for now I was going to have a doughnut and flirt with my favourite waitress. And there was a new girl who'd started. Tara something, wasn't that it? Quite pretty. Might give her the eye.

I stepped into the diner and my heart sank as I saw my big brother. Not that I don't love him, but he had a look about him that meant Business. No flirting for me, then.

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce: Wes Brood face (Wisterea)_wes_pryce_ on December 6th, 2006 10:11 am (UTC)
Now, I cannot help but wonder how Lilah Morgan had found out about McDonald hiring us anyway. I know for a fact that I’ve not told her. I doubted highly that Cordelia did, what with the way she thought of that woman. McDonald himself sure as hell wouldn’t have told him, which only left one other suspect. As I said, simple elimination. That only left my dear brother William who cannot keep his mouth shut.

Sighing, I folded up the news paper and tossed it aside. I had ordered myself some grenadine - I am working after all and the coffee or tea here is atrocious - and William his…usual. Whatever that may be, the girl behind the counter seemed to know. Although, I was glad that alcohol wasn’t going to be ‘the usual’ here. William wouldn’t be averse to drinking at this hour of the day, the pratt. To compensate I did get him his favorite donut, even though I didn’t think he deserved it.

I had already finished mine and was on my second sarsaparilla when William finally decided to show up. Half an hour to late, my watch informed me. My eyebrows rose in disapproval as he made his way over to our table. My first action was to hold up the newspaper, headline clearly visible and give him an accusing look.

“And what is the meaning of this?” I asked, not in the mood for any fun. This was serious business, a murder case is not to be trampled with.
William the Bloodysired1880spike on January 15th, 2007 06:48 pm (UTC)
I knew as I approached the table that Brother Dear was not in a good mood. What had I done wrong now? He was always blamin' me for something. Admittedly, half the time I had done something wrong, but my conscience was pretty clear this time.

“And what is the meaning of this?”

Wes held up the newspaper. The headline made my heart sink a little. Bugger. Hadn't thought my coffee with that Lilah dame would end up in front page news. Course, I knew she was pumpin' me for information, but it wasn't like I'd told her much.

"It's a newspaper, innit?" I said, deflecting the question. Then I spotted the plate with my favourite type of doughnut on it. Maybe he wasn't in that bad a mood. "Oh, for me? You shouldn't have," I said, sliding into the seat opposite him. I signalled the waitress. "Coffee, lots of cream."

"Sugar, sir?" she said. She was a new girl. Blonde.

"I think you add sweetness enough," I said, watching her blush and sidle away.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce: Wes b/w (remember_nomore)_wes_pryce_ on January 21st, 2007 03:01 pm (UTC)
The look on his face when I held up the paper spoke volumes. William is the kind of person who doesn’t let anyone read him, always playing tricks on people with his body language and his facial expressions. I’ve known him since he was born however and knew all this tricks. I even taught him some of those tricks, even though he’ll vehemently will deny that.

He was guilty. He had been flapping his mouth in the direction of one Miss Lilah Morgan. That newspaper bitch was a looker and would’ve had no problem rolling my dear brother around her elegant little claws.

“Don’t play jokes with me, William,” I growled, narrowing my eyes at him. Pulling my glasses out of my pocket, I proceeded to read a piece of the article he’d obvious hadn’t seen. Only pausing when the girl came by to get his order and ignoring his dig about the donut and the blatant flirting. Some things never change do they?

“Mind telling me when you spoke to that harpy and what you told her? William,” I said, making sure he’d know that wasn’t a question. “And why, for gods sake. Did you ever hear about client confidentiality?”
William the Bloody: I liked the 40ssired1880spike on January 21st, 2007 07:29 pm (UTC)
“Mind telling me when you spoke to that harpy and what you told her? William,” Wes said.

Oh, bollocks. He's using my proper name. Definitely in trouble now.

“And why, for gods sake. Did you ever hear about client confidentiality?”

"Wait a minute," I say, raising my hands in a sign of defeat. "Alright, I had a coffee with Lilah. Thought it we had a chat I might get lucky." Wes gives me a look, of course. "What? You should try it some time," I say, rolling my eyes at him. "Anyway, I didn't tell her all that much. Not like you have shared much with me about it," I say pointedly. "Jus' gave her the basic facts. Strung it out a bit to see if I could get her phone number, but no such luck. If there's anything juicy in there," I say, nodding at the paper, "she didn't get it from me, alright?" I glance down at the front page and notice how sensationalist it is. I can't help being impressed with Lilah's balls. Dame's sure not afraid to speak her mind.

"And what's this about client confidentiality?" I ask. "That dead girl in the library hasn't been paying us, has she?" I say. "No. An' far as I know, no one else has, either. Why're you so interested, anyway?" A thought occurs to me. "Is this to do with the good detective?" My brother always acts strangely when anything comes up about Callaghan.
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce_wes_pryce_ on January 23rd, 2007 05:16 am (UTC)
“You thought what?” I gave him an incredulous look that again spoke volumes. “Good god man, with that woman? Have you no standards? Lilah Morgan is an a-moral wench who’d do anything to get a story. Obviously,” I added the latter when I saw the look on his face.

Oh my dear brother could so easily be manipulated by some long legs and a interesting pair of breasts. All they had to do is smile and he’s gone. It’s a small wonder, with all the twits here in Los Angeles, I’d not had to bail him out of jail more often.

“Would you have bothered to come into the office as you’re supposed to, William,” I sighed, folding up the newspaper and putting it down. “You’d have known that Lindsey McDonald hired us a few days back to find the killers. And with this now in the newspaper? Who do you think will take the heat for that one? Let me tell you, his name starts with ‘W’ and it’s not William.”

Arse. “Would it kill you to not think with your prick once and a while?” I scolded, getting up from the chair. “The file with my findings are at the office. I’ve already more or less figured it out, but since you’ve been to busy chasing after dames….” I let that sentence hang in the air as I rolled my eyes at him.

“When are you going to grow up, William. You’re going to send me into an early grave. I’d appreciate it if you’d actually show up for work the rest of the week. And what good detective are you talking about?” Playing dumb and oblivious when it came to Liam was one of the things I’d become very adapt at. Out of necessity, not because I wanted to.
William the Bloody: Bugger thatsired1880spike on February 5th, 2007 12:40 am (UTC)
“When are you going to grow up, William. You’re going to send me into an early grave. I’d appreciate it if you’d actually show up for work the rest of the week. And what good detective are you talking about?”

I just roll my eyes. I've heard this lecture before. Yeah, alright, I may not be the most responsible member of society, but so what? Least I have fun, which is more than I can say for Wes.

"Yeah, alright. I'll be at 9 sharp tomorrow." Maybe 10. "An' you know damn well who I mean. 'The Angel', isn't that what the papers call him? Mr Callaghan. Dunno why you act so odd when I bring him up." I push my chair out and stand up. "Reckon I'll get going," I say. "Unless there's anything else you need to tell me off for?" I add sarcastically.