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[h2][color=0054a6]Richard Barker[/color][/h2][/center]

	The boxer old-timer Ambrose was a curiosity in himself, with the body of a speeding freight train but the voice of Ted Lewis and His Band. Or perhaps the comparison with a friendly bull would be more fitting. Either way, the calm and collected response from Ambrose seemed to ease the tension in the ruined room, spreading over to the other members of the Jeremy and Harry Letter Association. Richard nodded in agreement with Ambrose's question, fiddling idly with the cigarette between his fingers as he looked casually, though systematically around the room. He was waiting for some answers. 

	[color=0054a6]"Sensible food for thought you just said, Mr. Smith. Ferd, may I call you Ferd or Fred?"[/color] Richard asked after being at the recieving end of Ferd's cryptic words of wisdom. It payed off to be careful, but Richard wasn't really impressed by his caution - it sounded more like common sense to him. Then again common sense was a rare commodity these days. Richard listened intently to Ferd's explaination, noting that he and Val really hadn't gotten far before Ambrose and himself showed up. What made Richard retrieve the cigarette to his mouth was Ferd's concern Jeremy's house couldn't possibly have decayed this much. [color=0054a6]"Well to be honest, I was here too a few years ago myself, and it didn't exactly look like the Iroquis New York. More like a Flophouse, if you'll excuse my frankness…"[/color] 

	Richard's thrown-in comment was cut off by the shouting outside, another man joining the merry men of Arkham. The private detective's hand instinctively reached for his piece, the sudden apperance of the man probably how the two others had felt about Richard and Ambrose. The jam was squared out pretty quickly, thankfully, upon Ferd getting his ID and name, while the kid sheepishly smiled at them. [color=0054a6]"James Anderson…hey, ain't you the newshawk with them weird tales? Odd stuff, but a good read. Now this is a strange bundle of plugs. Richard Barker, private eye."[/color] Richard told James the writer, reporter or whatever the guy was. At this point his cigarette was also a sagging piece of half-burned paper, prompting Richard to toss it far out of the door while turning back to Ferd. 

	[color=0054a6]"Like I said, I'm not concerned about the shitty state of the house. Probably had the bad luck of getting the house built by some builders who chilesed him. Used faulty materials and whatnot, wouldn't be the first time."[/color] Richard had been in no mood to look for the unexplainable, rationalizing the decay like the private detective he was, however wrong he may or may not have been in his words. Fiddling for another cigarette, lighting it and taking the virgin drag, Richard turned back to the others. [color=0054a6]"Like Ambrose said earlier, I've got no idea who this Harry guy is, and only met Jeremy a few times rather briefly. That buddy in Boston I mentioned? Got him to do some digging on Harry Everfield. Maybe he owed some money to the Mob, didn't pay up and got roughened up? That letter of his wasn't exactly well-written."[/color] Richard decided to open up on, resting the cigarette in one hand while the other scratched his visible scarred noes. 

	[color=0054a6]"Anyway, Jeremy Stockhold hired me to retrieve a book of sorts. Short version is that I got it for him, got paid and never saw him again. It was the oddest thing…so unless he's returned from what I can only assume was North Africa and now is cheesing it upstairs…"[/color] Richard continued, placing the cigarette firmly between his lips and making his way upstairs calmly while keeping contact with the others. [color=0054a6]"I'd like to get some detective-ing done while that nosey goose outside leaves us alone. Having tea-time chatting in a presumed missing person's burgled house is something the cop in me would rather avoid."[/color]