[center][img]https://i.ibb.co/x3j4tGH/ezgif-com-crop.jpg[/img]
[h2][color=0054a6]Richard Barker[/color][/h2][/center]

So Richard had been right when he though he knew who Ambrose Tull was. That was a good sign, at least his skills weren't dulled by the absurdity of the current rainy situation. [color=0054a6]"What can I say? I use my head for more than just holding my hat."[/color] Richard quiped back at Ambrose the massive boxer, taking a drag of his cigarette while emitting the parts of the story where Richard had attended the boxing match in order to snoop on a criminal. Don't get him wrong, the match was good and all, from what he'd gathered afterwards. 

It was a good thing that Richard had Ambrose on his side - at least he was pretty sure the boxer with a silver tounge was, certainly he was backing him up at this point-, since the duo of Val and Ferd refrained from giving them a straight answer themselves at the moment. The private detective smoked his cigarette as they spoke, his eyes scanning the guys' coats for more guns than the one Val had pointed at him. He payed special attention once Val slipped his hand back into his coat, though he was only pulling out…more letters? [color=0054a6]"Yeah that's the same letter I got a week ago. Wrap me up in ribbons and call me an adopted puppy, never took that Jeremy for being a solid pen-pal."[/color] Richard commented on the letters, looking up at Val with a thoughtful look on his face. The cogs were moving up there. Why had they been gathered? [color=0054a6]"I think the word you're looking for, Mr. Val, is A Wild Goose Chase."[/color] 

Apparently that was the que for the loud-mouthed guy, who'd asked for a painted window, to finally open his gob again. Through the conversing he'd sized up Richard, as if he was trying to get an angle on him. Ferd had feared that they were the same guys who'd ransacked Jeremy's house. Understandable, though Richard could only nod his head a little to it as he looked back Ferd and Val at the house. [color=0054a6]"True. But if you're asking me, then we'd probably gone through the back and gotten the jump on you two. Walking up the front porch in broad daylight doesn't exactly scream out 'goons'…"[/color] Richard replied, taking a drag while letting his eyes scan the rainy clouds above them, before continuing. [color=0054a6]"Then again, ain't no sunshine here either."[/color]

Finally it was the turn of Ferd to hand over some ID, which Richard gladly accepted. His suspicions had been founded then, the guy didn't carry a badge after all. The name on the guy's driving license stuck out to him, though the name "Ferd Smith" was so generic that even Richard couldn't pinpoint its origin. But now he had a name, a face and a letter. That was progress. 

[color=0054a6]"Yes please, I though you'd never ask. I feel like I'm in a bad German surreal picture with all this rain."[/color] Richard was more than happy to continue the conversation inside, pulling up his coat as he followed Ferd into the hell-raised house. Rot and mould all over the place. Yeah, whorehouse at low tide had been a pretty good description of the joint. Richard leaned up against a solid wall, holding the cigarette between his fingers and shaking his fedora off water. [color=0054a6]"Couldn't tell you either, even if I'd wanted to. Never heard of this Harry-fella before I got the letter, and even then I've only met Jeremy twice. Couldn't tell you why I or any of your were written to either. So, what have you poked around and found out so far?"[/color]