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

	As Richard ascended the moudly stairs of what both looked and smelled more and more like an abandonded shithole of a house, he was pleasently surprised to have none of the fellow occupatents attempt to stop him. Clearly they  approved of his snooping tendencies more than any well-minded client would have if they only knew how he aquired informaton. Either that, or they were too busy with taking care of themselves down at the ground floor. Yeah, like normal people would do. 

	At least something seemed off with Ferd again, a certain look of concern washing over his face as he replied back to Richard and telling him to call him whatever he wanted. Well that was a start, Fred was easier to say than Ferd. Then it was the matter of Richard's connection down in Boston. That part Richard chose to ignore, better to open that can of worms later when he didn't have so many balls to juggle. Also, he did not like the nickname Ferd gave him. Peaping over the railing of the stairs, Richard gave Fred one last look before he escaped their company in favour of the upper floor. [color=0054a6]"I heard that, Fred. Don't call me Rich, never been that my whole life."[/color] 

	The upper floor looked almost as shitty as the lower one, save from the doors themselves not having massive holes in them. Richard made it upstairs, his eyes pearing over the landscape of rotting wood, carpet and furniture before him with his scanning eyes, noticing the disturbances on the floor. Clearly someone had been here recently, obviously Val or Fred who'd checked what looked like a study. That ruled out him checking that. Bedroom it was then. 

	The door to what had been Jeremy's bedroom was weathered, but standing strong, and more importantly it stood locked. Richard grabbed the door handle with the end of his coat, feeling the door rattle by the lock still in the wall. Not to worry, the private dick knew what to do. Out of the few tools he kept hidded under his clothes, were a set of picks and wires. Lockpicks. Hey, you never knew when you'd need an extra set of universal 'keys', right? Soon enough Richard had picked the locked with an audible [b]click[/], pushing the door open and looking inside.

	[color=0054a6]"Jesus Christ, Jeremy wasn't just a pen-pal now was he…"[/color] 

	Richard tried to take in the room as he slowly entered, though so many clues and strange bits stuck out to him and his police gut feeling. Firstly it was the fact that someone had upped and left in a hurry, packing their neccecities and gotten the hell out of dodge? That Harry fellow who was meant to keep the house under wraps? He shouldn't have had access to the room, but who else? 

	Clothes rotted strewn around the room, the only pieces of junk resembling any kind of orderly mess the pieces of paper and photographs around the room - either neatly lain down on Jeremy's desk or hung up on the wall, strings running from one photograph and another. String, red string, a colour of warning. [color=0054a6]"Jeremy, you're a bit of a coockoo, ain't ya?"[/color] Richard asked himself, taking a deep drag of his cigarette before continuing his snooping. 

	Which was only getting weirder and weirder. 

	In one moment none of this mady any sense to the New York detective, only the left-overs of a rambling looney now half-way across the world chasing three-headed giraffes on the African savannah…but in another moment Richard saw something shine from the pictures, notes and red string - Logic, coherent thoughts, clues. Missing people's reports, coordinates, photographs of random objects and locations tied to the former…and all of them leading back to that Dark Continent to the white man. 

	[color=0054a6]"Now this is a Chinese angle if I've ever been thrown ass first into one…"[/color] 

	Richard stood by himself in the bedroom, smoking the cigarette and simply taking in all the clues around him, touching nothing and leaving all where he found it. He took some notes on the way, though the bizarre nature of the room would hardly leave a clean mark on his mind. For a moment Richard leaned out of doorway, shouting down to the others. [color=0054a6]"Hey fellas, how your looking going? You find anything yet?"[/color]