Do? He didn't do much of anything. Bother mother and father to no end. 'Lazy layabout' they called him. Eventually he went for a hiking trip in Peru ... in the Andes. We always thought he would turn up but at some point we gave up and had the funeral. It used to bother me but I suppose I have accepted it after so long.

Book listens to her describe a brother who just did not fit the bill as having anything to do with the mystery. "Ok. Looks like we're either back to your husband or his enemies." Book begins to pace again. How the hell...

"I need more information" he muttered. I've got no contacts and I;m pretty much a fish out of water.

He turned back to the woman, "How much do you think it might be your husband? Why would your husband want to knock you off?"

Well, uh. She blushes. Can you keep a secret? Of course you can, you're a private dick. I might have been stepping out with the help now and again. And I might have been helping myself to the cash around the house. I needed those shoes and handbags after all. And, I might have overheard a few conversations about certain Senators and the like. Nothing that he would want me dead over. You think?

Her posture has changed and she is leaning forward a bit more than a woman normally would. At least normally would in a business setting.

Book raises an eyebrow. Picking up on the subtle clues, he thinks. Dalton would love me this. I imagine this could become virtual, astral porn pretty quickly. Me. Not so much.

He retains a more professional demeanor as he moves back around his desk. "Perhaps. I imagine your husband is a bit of the possessive, jealous type? That would be enough for him to want you dead, but what you did was personal. The hit attempt was impersonal. No message, no symbolism. No, I doubt it was your husband who tried to kill you. More than likely one of his... competitors. So, if you've overheard these conversations, who are his competitors who operate in such a fashion as to gun down women?"

She smiles sweetly. "All business? Perhaps another time then." She straightens back up and pulls off her gloves before opening her purse. "Now where did I put that ... ah, here is is." She pulls out a notebook with a small flourish and presents it to Book. "That's a list of people I know my husband speaks with on a regular basis that are capable shooting ... me." She clears her throat. "At least those that are capable of telling someone else to do it at any rate."

Book curls an eyebrow when she pulls out a list, already prepared. This just gets better... He ignores the jab about he avoiding virtual-astral sex. I imagine Wolf would have gone for it.

When he flips open the list, He turns as if in thought, but really to hide his face as it contorts. He looks off as is Snake were nearby watching.
Give me a damn break. Judge? Chief of Police? This is gonna be a nightmare...

He returns to his seat, seriously considering her wiles. He shakes his head, returning to the moment. Have to keep focused. "Ok. You are going to-" He stops and looks around, not sure what type of eaves dropping may be available in this reality. Technology level looks low, but.... "We need to find a place you to stay."

He gets up yet again and crossed towards the door, opening it and gesturing for her to follow.

Book hears the whispers of Snake slide through his mind. Women are not like men. They do not hide all their secrets in the same places. Learn her secrets and you will pass Wolf's test.

"Oh, goodie! A stakeout, or whatever they're called. What about the beach?!? Would the beach work?"

A young man is standing in the hall.

Seeing the man in the hall, Book reaches for his weapon as the man makes a threatening move. "Stop!"

He holds the weapon steady at the man. Book breaths a hesitant sigh at having gotten the drop on the man, praying that he doesn't move....

The young man slowly raises one hand while lowering the gun to the floor. "Ma'am, I heard what happened on the street. Are you OK? Is this man bothering you?"

Keeping the man in his sights, Book side steps to get the woman in his peripheral vision. Something is off and I really don't want a book end to back of the head...

"I think its time for one more story.." he says, not really to either one in particular.

"What ever are you talking about?" The woman looks back and forth between the Book and the man in the hallway.

For his part the newcomer smiles and says, "Look buddy. I'm a bodyguard working for the Montival family. I rushed over as soon as I heard what had gone down here tonight. Cops said you were looking after her. You don't have the best of reputations and frankly, I don't know you. Therefore, I don't trust you. However, you have the gun so we play this your way. That's my story. What's yours?"

An analyze truth would do wonders right now... and then there is my part to play.
"I agree that someone is trying to kill her and I may be a lot of things, but a man who stands around and lets a woman get murdered isn't one of them." As he lets that sink in, he wonders how badly the scene would have played out in ten minutes if he had in fact taken her up on her offer. No doubt the young man would have burst in after hearing her crying out only to find her bent over the desk in a most compromising position. That would definitely make for a sequence in Astral Quests Gone Wrong.

"Mrs. Montival, do you recognize this man?"

After a moment's hesitation, she replies, "I think so. I think that he works for my husband sometimes." She gets a playful look in her eyes and twirls her hair while saying, "Didn't you help me re-arrange the flower bed that one evening.""

The man with the gun on the floor blushes slightly. "Ahh, yes. Yes, ma'am. That was me."

Regaining a measure of composure, he continues, "So, what now? Shall I escort you back to the mansion? Provided you don't object, Mr. Blane." He eyes the gun with some caution.

Keeping his eyes, and gun, leveled on the young man, Blane narrows his eyebrows. "Mrs. Montival, do you trust this young man?" Her answer will weigh heavily in Book's assessment of their relationship or lack thereof.

"I trust him to the deepest levels. You're ... Patrick." She smiles sweetly. "Now, I do believe that you were going to take me somewhere safe? I have an idea. We could go to the library."

The young man - Patrick, apparently - stares at Mrs. Montival. He seems to be wrestling with an internal decision of some kind. It occurs to Book that Dalton would absolutely love to play this guy in poker.

Snake taps at the back of Book's mind.

Blaine shakes his head and lowers his gun, watching Patrick's response. "Patrick, is Mr Montival currently seeking to kill you? Because, if not, it should be safe for Mrs Montival to return home.... " He weighed the option of talking about Mr Montival, but decided instead to weigh the current reactions. As he lowers the gun, he stays alert, not quite convinced that Patrick isn't in fact trying to kill her to cover up their affair.

I was already onto that one Snake. What? Did she also bang one of Mr Montival's enemies? Is it actually Patrick trying to kill her?

Mrs. Montival smiles when she asks, "So, back to the big ole mansion with the boring paintings and statues. If we must." She looks to Blane and asks, "Will it be safe there?"

Patrick pipes up, "Ah, boss, ... I mean Mr. Montival was hoping mad about something. The library might be a better stop if you really think it would be safe."

Both look to Blane for an answer.

Blane looks back and forth to the two. Some secrets are deep and others not so much. He takes a moment to reflect on this quest: A attempted assassination and then she asked for help finding out who was trying to kill her. No mana here.. at least none I can access. Perhaps this is an aspected domain more powerful than I can imagine? The secret being sought in this quest is without question. His paranoia kicks in regarding the young man. Tank would not hesitate using her for bait. Snake mentioned Wolf here. Is that the lesson?

He starts to answer, but finds himself momentarily lacking for words. "Library?" is that that he gets out.

They both turn to him. Patrick answers, "Yes. It is an older building: solid construction and all that. Has a decent core for defense and is public. Few hits have every been done in a public place in this town."

"Not to mention, darling. I know the curator and he owes me a few favors." She seems excited. "Oh, it'll be a grand adventure. What do you say?"

Book looks at the young man. "You didn't just use that as justification did you? Really?" He shakes his head and puts the gun back in his belt. He seems much more dangerous to her from incompetence than malice aforethought. Intrigued by the fact that they are steering him towards the library, he plays along. "What are we waiting for?"

He gestures for them to lead the way. One parting thought comes to mind... If I'm supposed to think like Snake... and now Wolf.... perhaps I should add a little Raven.... "I need a bag of marbles..."

Patrick looks at Blane and shrugs. "Sure, I figure we can pick some up at the Five and Dime on the way there."

Apparently Five and Dime is the name of a store. After a brief stop to grab a bag of marbles, the trio makes it way to the library. The little old man behind the desk is about to object but upon seeing Mrs. Montival he pales a bit and stammers out, "Wha, what can I do for our patron of the arts?"

She snaps back, "I expect you to turn over the curator's rooms for our use and to close the library an hour early. Any questions?"

She marches off toward the center of the library as if there won't be any questions. Mrs. Montival may be a lot of things but she is definitely accustomed to being obeyed.

Blane watches her interaction with desk clerk. She's plays the role she needs to play. As he follows, he takes her into a whole new light. He now understands how someone might want to kill her with a little more extreme prejudice than just whoring around.

Once out of earshot of the clerk, he asks Patrick while they walk. "You're right about public hits. There aren't a lot of people who would try such a thing.... Also, an ideas what Mr Montival is so mad about?"

The curator's room is in actuality three rooms connected by some type of movable wall. Everywhere physical books sit in some state of mold or decay. It would appear that they are made of actual paper. The tables universally groan under the weight which considering the solid wood construction is impressive. No cheap plastic or wood shaving and glue here to be seen. Several lights and magnifying glasses are set up as well. All the rooms overlooks the central courtyard of the library through tall glass windows. Even in a space given over to the study and repair of books, the architecture of the building can be seen. The dividers seem more like a pox on the otherwise unmarred surface of the old building.

Patrick glances over at Blane/Book and opens his mouth as if to speak and then shuts it. Trying again he says, "I got no idea. Maybe he's mad 'cause someone tried to hit his wife?" He lowers his voice a bit and adds, "Maybe he's mad 'cause they missed?"

Mrs. Montival swings around and sets herself on a high-backed chair that could be work of art in its own right. The image is more like a vengeful queen than a woman who was shot at.

He takes a moment to gaze at the books longingly. Such treasures and they are in such a state of-

Blane/Book shakes his head and rubs his chin, refocusing on the task rather than an illusion of treasures. I think I've learned all I need from the Mrs. Time to figure out the mister.

"I think I will continue my investigation." With that he heads towards the exit.

Mrs. Montival seems somewhat surprised. "Very well. Please don't loose sight of finding out who is trying to kill me. And don't get yourself killed in the process."

Blane/Book leaves the library and shortly finds himself staring over a wall around 1.5 meters tall (some part of him knows it around five feet tall) at one of the largest houses he has ever seen. There is a wooded area around the property and no matter the time or place, the house and its grounds scream money.

The gate is closed but there is a person standing in a small building looking out at him.

Blane strolls down the street to the guard shack. "Hello there."

The guard look up and a slow smile creeps across his face. "Blane. I knew you had a pair but not that you were suicidal. Other than rubbing his nose in it from your last case, why would you want to come to the Montival estate?"

Book is surprised by the reference to history. Of course. Things this character has done that I am not privy to.

He looks the guard over for a second, then formulates his strategy. "I'm looking into the hit attempt on his queen today.... but if he's wanting that to go through I need to know that so that I can get out of the way of it. So what's the word?"

"Nice try, Blane. If I say he's good with it, then you call in the cops. If I say he didn't do it, you wouldn't believe me anyway and then you'd still call in the cops. Now, get lost.

Book knew he couldn't play all his cards but he needed more information... "Call the cops? Did my status suddenly rise from washed out half drunk to model citizen? If so, please tell me 'cause I'd really like to move my office to a little better part of town and raise my rates." He gives that a moment to sink in before pressing again. "Listen, she put me on retainer. Either way I figure your boss has a vested interest. He either wants me to steer clear or he wants to talk to me and have me find out who is behind it."

The more he thought about it, its really simple. Though, there actually is a third option...

The guard seems to be mulling the though over. He reaches over to device on the desk in his little building. Blane recognizes it as a phone. "Front gate. I have a Mr. Blane her to see Mr. Montival. Yes sir, I'm serious. No sir, I wouldn't joke. OK, I'll tell him. "

The man does something inside the building and the gate begins to open on it own.

"Go ahead then. You ask and apparently, you receive as well. I hope you are more like Daniel than you look, Blane."

The drive is nearly as long as a city block with an immaculate lawn on either side. There are sculptures and flowers in artistic clumps. A cat walks by and seems to focus on Blane for a moment, then saunters off.

The door opens the moment before Blane reaches it and a dour little man says, "Right this way, sir. May I take your coat?"

Blane/Book smiles at the gate guard; The reference is not lost on him. He walks on and towards the house, glancing at the cat for a long moment wondering about its true form: spirit? avatar? Or just illusion? He turns from it and focuses back to the house. I cannot be distracted by the irrelevant. He gives the cat one more, last, quick glance. Nor can I overlook a clue.

Reaching the doorman, he replies to the query. "No. No thank you. I imagine my stay will be brief." With that, he looks inward and awaits direction or escort.

As if it were possible, the dour little man gives an even more dour smile and says, "Very good, sir. Please follow me."

He strolls forward each small step covering more ground than it should. He leads Book/Blane through a foyer covered in a chessboard of black and white marble. There are oversized statues of royal and religious figures tucked into alcoves along the walls. After a lengthy walk the ... butler perhaps ... opens a door and waves Book/Blane inside.

The room would be dark except for the roaring fire in one wall. Curiously, there is little heat from such a great flame. A high backed leather chair faces the fire. After a moment of his eyes adjusting to the darkness, Book/Blane notices that he is standing in a library. The chair slowly turns toward him, despite any apparent mechanism to do so.

A man older than Mrs. Montival puts down the book in his hands and pulls a pipe from his mouth. There are curls of smoke coming from his mouth. "Mr. Blane. How very good of you to pay a visit. Especially after making sure my attorney went up the river for black mail. Pity. Good legal help is hard to find. What can I do for you?"

There is an absolute intensity of presence in this man and his dark eyes seem black in the dim light of the fire.

Book/Blane pauses at the inference to an act that he personally was not party to but appears to be part of the history of this persona... Making up the details will just make me look crazy.. Though I will have to make some assumptions to get through this.

"I am sorry that we had to be on opposite ends of that unfortunate dilemma. Perhaps I am in a situation to make it up to you now? Your wife has retained me to find out who tried to have her knocked off earlier today." He pauses a moment to gauge Mr Montival's response. Noticing the smoke without a lit pipe, he ponders, trying not to fall victim to stereotypes about fire elementals. Sometimes you have to gamble with a direct approach, with perhaps a little of the fool thrown in.

"Given your connections and that she is your wife, I thought you might have some ideas?" Everything is a gamble, some more than others.

The man smiles. "I wouldn't exactly say that we were on the wrong side. His trip up the river saved me from having to act in ways that were ... unpleasant. And, besides, you were completely honest in what you did."

He readjusts his seat and then continues, "Now, as to the other. I can't tell you who is after my wife."

At this point the same man who was at the door enters and asks if Blane/Book would like a drink.

Looking to the doorman, Book/Blane replies. "Bourbon. Double."

He turns back to Mr Montival, "Do you think the Syndicate has anything to do with this?"

"Now, now Mr. Blane. As I said, I can't tell you anything." Book/Blane gets the feeling that somehow, the other Mr. Blane would understand what Mr. Montival just said.

Book/Blane has his moment of dawning and changes the subject, slightly. Oh... Won't tell me. "Yes.. of course." He looks around for the drink, then looks back. "Idle curiosity does of course leave me wondering why someone would want to end her life." He looks again for the drink so that the question comes to Montival as something other than a direct question.

"Indeed. Indeed, that IS the question." He pulls a pocket watch from his vest. "I must apologize. I have a prior engagement that requires my attention. Please enjoy your drink and my servant will show you out."

He straightens his papers and in an off-hand way asks, "Have you any idea where she might be?"

After finishing his drink and stepping towards the door, he pauses and decides to re-direct in his reply, "She's not called you?"

Women. You know how they are. Each one has her own designs on what she will and won't do.

As he exits, Book nods and replies, "Ain't that the truth."

As he heads for the exit, Book speaks inwardly. Ok Snake. So the husband is complacent if not behind it. So what now? Is there more? Do I need to find out why?