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Millicent looked around to see if Miguel would show up after all the commotion. Surely hearing everyone would have woken him up no matter how late they stayed up. But he never appeared.

Millicent had chosen to trust him and she was now second-guessing herself. Did he know something? He unloaded his secret with them last night and seemed prepared to go investigate this family and the reason they were all there. Did he leave? Was he all right?

No one else seemed to care, which given that Renee's body was being removed didn't seem out of the ordinary.

But surely someone knew. Sam had finished doing whatever it was with Tony so she walked up to him. "Sam, I haven't seen Miguel since last night and I am getting a little worried. I was going to go check his room and see if he's okay. Would you want to come with?" It was more so for protection and safety in numbers. For all she knew, someone had hurt Renee and were still walking around.

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Tony wasn’t totally sold on Sam’s suggestion of documenting everything he’d observed with the body - he probably shouldn’t be doing this at all, strictly speaking, and his medical license would mean nothing in France, and he wasn’t wearing gloves or even a shirt, for christ’s sake - but everyone else seemed to be in favor, so he did not argue. Sam asked if he truly believed that the teacher’s fate was merely an accident, but Tony was absolutely not willing to give his true opinion in front of Felix, not even in whispered conversation - so for the moment, he stuck to the facts. Once the photo session was done, Tony strode upstairs and past everyone still gathered near the stairs; if anyone tried to question him as he passed, he would look exasperated and answer, ”Look, I just woke up, I’m hungover, I haven’t even had a chance to shower yet. Ask me after breakfast.”

Walking down the hallway past all the bedrooms, the only thing on Tony’s mind is taking a nice, long shower after the terrible start to the day he’s had so far. Or perhaps more accurately, he’s fighting to avoid thinking about anything else until he’s alone. However, those thoughts are interrupted as he passes the Evergreen room - Constance’s room - and hears muffled sounds of… is she crying? For the briefest of moments Tony wonders whether he even has the energy to deal with this, but subconsciously he realizes that not only does he want to comfort her, but he doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts right now, either. Mildly stunned by that realization, Tony stops in front of her door and tentatively knocks. ”Can I come in?”

Constance was holding the pillow against her chest as she sobbed before she heard the knocking on the door. She listened and thought before she got up, almost against her better judgement and opened the door. She looked up at Tony, stunning herself a bit as she answered. ”Please… come in. I… I’m not sure I want to be alone right now.”

With one look at her face, Tony closes the distance and pulls Constance into a hug, kicking the door closed behind him. To think that just minutes ago, his most pressing concern was a hangover, but now… this vacation was quickly becoming a disaster. ”What a shit morning,” he comments dryly.

Constance blinked a bit at surprise at the hug, but she pressed in close to Tony, and hugged him back. She found herself nuzzling in close, trusting him to see her at her worst when usually no one would see her like this. ”To think it started with such promise.” She muttered a bit into his chest.

”To think the only problem yesterday was a drunk asshole, but now…” Tony trails off. But in the back of his mind, he knew that wasn’t true. The blackmail on his desk was a far bigger problem than Lawrence, even if Tony had spent the night trying to avoid thinking about it. First the blackmail, now someone’s dead… could it be a coincidence? Tony was skeptical, but how could he tell anyone? Telling anyone how he was being blackmailed was simply not an option, but the situation has become too dangerous to keep ignoring it. Would anyone believe him if he refused to explain? And anyways, what possible connection is there with his blackmail and the teacher’s death? Tony’s mind raced as he continued holding Constance, trying to figure out what to say, how to explain his suspicions without saying too much.

Constance knew there was more going on… those photos she had burned and discarded were proof of that. However, could she trust Tony with that information? ”I… I thought about my father. I don’t know why. But when I saw her body like that, I thought of him, and how I had been rude to her by keeping her out of the bathroom yesterday and I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

As he listened, Tony began gently rubbing her back. ”Nothing’s wrong with you,” he soothed. ”Death is a terrible thing for anyone to have to see, even moreso when you’re not expecting it. And especially when…” Tony pauses, then sighs. Here goes nothing…

”I don’t think it was an accident,” he whispers, almost inaudibly.

Constance’s eyes went wide and she pulled back a bit to look up at him. ”Are… are you saying someone killed her?”

Tony sighs again, meeting her gaze. ”I don’t know. But there’s too much weirdness going on, it can’t all be a coincidence. It really doesn’t make sense that we’d all be nominated for the same award, we’re all so different. Nothing has gone how I would’ve expected so far, yesterday was way more chaotic than any formal gathering I’ve seen before. And…” how do I tell her? Tony wonders. She can be trusted, I think… but that much? After a moment, he continues. ”Yesterday, there was something on my desk, that… didn’t belong.”

Constance could feel her heartbeat slow for a moment before starting to race at Tony’s words. He had noticed it as well, and at the mention of something that didn’t belong she could feel the color drain out of her face. ”Tony… Someone is blackmailing me.”

Tony’s breath hitched. What?

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One hand held the camera as tightly as his strength would allow, the strap still around his neck for good measure. The other gripped the railing on the stairs, helping him on his ascent towards his room. Every step shaky and uneven as his vacant stare looked onwards towards those above him. Every time he blinked, every moment he closed his eyes to gather himself, all he could see was her body strewn about the floor. His body. Lifeless, and still, but yet he still looked as if he could spring up at any moment just to tell him it was all a prank. The sounds of that night played inside his mind as the vision of Renee's body kept interchanging with his. Sam's own voice echoing in the background, begging, pleading, to any who'd answer him. You've got the wrong guy! Please, he's everything I have! His voice strained from screaming, his face red from the tears and pain.

His grip on the camera weakened, causing it to slip down and swing onto his chest. The strap now weighing heavy on his neck, like a hand gripping tightly at the base forcing his vision in one direction. As Sam blinked, one moment he'd see the stairs before him, the next a dark and dingy room, then the stairs once more. A familiar voice helped to cut through the mental fog, to anchor him into the correct scene. She had said something…something about Miguel missing or not being present or… Sam looked around, she was right. He wasn't with everyone else. Was she insisting Miguel had done it? Or perhaps that there was more than one victim last night. Both were possibilities, but a third option kept nagging in the back of his head. You brought this upon these people. You're responsible for it all. He tried to push the thought away before trying to speak. ”Bathroom? I uh…I” He looked down at the fact that he was still in only boxers and socks, save for the camera wrapped around his neck. How many more deaths must I capture?

Sam's chin wobbled slightly as he spoke, the words clearly catching in his throat as he tried his best to remain calm. Those his eyes deceived him all too plainly. Pools of water threatened to burst at any moment as his face grew more and more red from the force of holding it all in.

Millicent watched Sam as he moved up, away from the scene, but he appeared…distraught? Something was bothering him and Millicent figured it was seeing Renee’s body, but…surely not. They barely spoke. Yes, seeing a dead person was not pleasant but it hardly needed this reaction. ”Sam, are you okay? Do you need help?” She didn’t want to touch or reach out to him without permission, but she was growing concerned.

”I just…I need a minute…” Sam responded, his voice breaking. He needed more than a minute, and potentially a shoulder to cry on. But he hadn't wanted to bother Millicent with it, nor Ralph. ”Do you mind if we go to our bathroom first. I just want…I need to collect myself.” Miguel hadn't exactly been encouraging on a good day, Sam didn't know if he could take those biting remarks right now. Not with how raw he felt.

Millicent nodded and walked with Sam, making sure not to do more than she needed. Sam appeared to be going through a lot and she did not want to heighten it. She walked with him towards their rooms, allowing him to go into his space first before their shared bathroom.

Once they were safely there, she waited a beat for Sam to calm himself down. She took a second too. She was growing more concerned. Were any of them safe here? She thought about leaving. Would they stop her? She should remain for when the authorities arrive, but it wasn’t like she did anything.

As they made their way into his room, passing his bed, Sam absentmindedly tossed his camera onto the pile of soft comforter he'd managed to create when flipping the sheets off himself this morning. He kept going until they finally reached their shared space. Silence filling the air for a moment before all Sam could get out was a sharp and painful ”Fuck!”. He wanted to throw something. To get out his frustration, but there was nothing around. So instead his back merely slammed against the wall as he slid down onto the cold bathroom floor, knees pressed against his chest as his breathing began to quicken. The only thing cutting between each gasp was a sob every now and then.
”I – can't – handle – this –” He exclaimed with sharp breaths.

Millicent knew a panic attack when she saw one and knew that he would need to ride it out. She let him yell and vent and breathe. She waited a beat before she walked over and sat down close to him, but not so close as to invade his space. ”Take some deep breaths Sam. As hard as it is. Don’t speak, just breathe.”

It was hard to take in and, if she were being honest, it made her uncomfortable. She expected someone like Sam to possibly be okay with death, but maybe she read him wrong. ”Keep breathing. Do you want some water or something else to drink, like tea? Something to relax you a bit?”

Sam did as Millicent instructed. He didn't talk, his breathing was shaky, sharp, as he tried to slow it down. He tried to rest his head against his knees, to close his eyes as he attempted to calm down. In that brief instant he was in that room again. His friend hanging in the air as the sounds of his muffled voice were cut by Sams, when all he could say was Its gonna be alright man, its gonna be fine. Please. Both a pleasurable for help, as well as him trying to convince the both of them this wasnt monumentally fucked. Sam's eye's darted open once more. Wanting nothing more than to remove himself from the scene. One hand, still shaking, pointing towards a bottle of water that was sitting on his desktop counter.

Millicent stood and went to grab the water bottle Sam pointed at. She returned and handed it to Sam and waited to see him take a sip. She had tons of questions, but she bit her tongue. Sam was going through something.

”Make sure to take small sips so you don’t choke.” Millicent was reminded of her own panic attacks she had back when she was starting and the few people who helped her out in those moments. Panic attacks didn’t care who you were or what the reason was, it could be debilitating either way.

Sam gratefully took the bottle out of her hands, the water jostling as he fought to hold still. He took the cap off, taking a small sip of water. Then another, before finally deciding to pour the entirety of its contents over his head. Placing the opening of the bottle to his lips in lieu of a paper bag to help him with his breathing. Between the shock of water, and the contained breaths, he finally began to calm down after a moment. His breathing steadying out before he finally tilted his head back against the wall and looked up at the fluorescent lights. ”Thanks Mil…I…sorry you had to see that.”

”Don’t apologize. It’s understandable after seeing that. Are you good now?” She waited a bit to ensure Sam was feeling better. Once she was sure, she continued. ”You were working through it with the doctor. Did he get the sense it was an accident?”

”He didn't really say… I did ask him though, but he just kept giving me the factual evidence. No speculations. Which could just mean he doesn't trust me enough to say so. For all he knows I could've done it.” Sam was staring at the bathroom floor, watching as the spilt water began to pool to one side as it dripped off of him from his hair and other places. ”We need to talk to Miguel though. Why wasn't he out here? He was missing most of dinner too…and the reception drinks.”

Millicent was happy to hear Sam also noticed Miguel’s absence. It had struck her as odd given their conversation last night. ”No, he wasn’t out there. I figured he would have responded to the scream or at least when people started showing up and talking. I’m…admittedly worried.” Millicent didn’t want to say why. Miguel could be laying in his room dead, he could have run away, he could be walking around the manor investigating. It didn’t matter. He needed to be found. ”Are you good to go check on him or do you need a minute. I imagine there’s no rush given…well everything.”

Sam nodded. ”I think I'm good. That body…it just…I think I was in shock for it all and then it just felt like it all came crashing in, the reality of it all. I… I don’t handle death well. I actually started doing these videos because the idea of losing someone forever? I needed to believe in something more beyond it all. To find proof it isn't final. But to see a body like that…of someone who was just the other day eating and drinking with us…I –”

”I get that. I guess I just assumed given what you do that death isn’t so scary, but I imagine that it is for anyone. Like you said, she was just here with us last night and now…she’s gone.” Millicent handled death better than most. She had some losses, but she never had it where the person that died was from potentially other means. Renee could have fallen but…Millicent didn’t quite buy that.

”Well it looks like the authorities are on the way and the good doctor helped handle her, so I hope she will be respected and sent back to her loved ones.”

”Hopefully what photo's I took can aid in the investigation somehow…” Sam said before finally attempting to standing up, water still dripping down his chest slightly as he reached for a towel to blot himself dry. ”Did we want to go check on Miguel? Though…could you walk in first? Im not so sure if could handle another body if…” He didn't even want to say it.

Millicent didn’t need to hear it. She had thought it too. Miguel could very well be laying on his bed, dead. ”Of course.” Millicent didn’t bother to add she would have liked to see those photos herself, but she isn’t a detective. She would let the police do their job. She stood up and walked into Sam’s room, waiting for him to follow.

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”Tony… Someone is blackmailing me.”

Constance let it spill out before she truly realized what she had said, but it was out in the open now. She heard that hitch in his breath, and she looked up at him. What was with that reaction? Was he surprised that someone like her had secrets that she needed to be kept like that, or was it that he also…? No. But he had just mentioned documents on his desk as well. Right where she had found the photos yesterday. Was that why they had all been brought there? Maybe that’s why poor Renee…

She realized it had been quiet, too quiet. ”Tony… is there something I should know?”

Tony blinks, recomposing himself. ”I’m being blackmailed too. I don’t know why, there’s no demand… just…” he hesitates, his mind racing as he tries to choose the right words; safe words. ”An implication of what they know, the leverage they have. I thought I was the only one… could it be all of us?” he says, paling slightly as he realizes the possibility.

Constance couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It was just like with those photos. No demands, nothing else but the implications. However, what Tony was suggesting, she was now thinking it too. ”It was similar with me. No demands, no instructions, nothing. Just the implication. I… didn’t want to think it could be anything more than just happenstance but, hearing that they’re blackmailing you too, and now with Renee… oh god. Did they bring us here to expose us?”

Tony winced at the thought. If his secret was exposed… no, I can’t let that happen. ”Maybe. I don’t know. But whatever their plans are, it can’t be good. And who are ‘they’ anyway? Elenore, surely, but who knows who else could be in on it? It could be any of them… all of them. This is… bad,” he says, thinking out loud.

”Clearly the LaLunes are in on it. Those documents were in our assigned rooms and none of us knew where we were going when we arrived here, correct? I don’t really even trust the staff now. However, I don’t know if we should let the others know yet. Clearly someone is willing to kill and we don’t know why.” Constance bit her lip a bit as she looked up at Tony. She could feel herself getting weak though as her thoughts spun around in her mind. Someone had brought them all there, possibly to expose them, and possibly for more, but why? They hadn’t known each other before, and none of them had anything to gain by knowing the others' secrets, correct? So why them? Was this a situation like that old comedy movie? No. Constance wasn’t even American!

”I definitely don’t trust anyone that was here before us,” he agreed. ”Not the family, not the staff. As for the others… fuck, I don’t know. We need to figure out if anyone else is being blackmailed. We need to know if we can trust anyone else, or if we’re in this alone. …Fuck.” None of them would trust you if they knew your secret, his subconscious says; Tony grimaces at the thought.

Constance found herself nodding at Tony’s words, but it was going to be troublesome trying to figure out if anyone else was being blackmailed. It wasn’t like you could just ask them upfront if they were keeping secrets. She also knew that if anyone knew her secret that they would never look at her the same. ”For… for now… we should try to play this cool until we figure out if we’re alone in this or not. I know that’s a bit of a tall order but we can’t give anyone a reason to suspect us of knowing anything.”

Tony doesn’t answer immediately, caught up in his racing thoughts as he tries to make sense of all this. It doesn’t help that the consequences of his night of drinking still lingered, leaving a frustrating haze over his mind. I need to think… I need a shower. Fuck, is it even safe to be alone? He’s not used to this uncertainty… this fear. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

”We have to be smart about this,” he eventually agrees. He opens his mouth to continue, but no words come. He’s still looking at Constance, but simultaneously looks distant. In the operating room, Tony always knows what to do, how to handle every situation… but right now, he feels lost. He feels like he did a year ago.

Constance could see that look in his eye and moved in close and wrapped her arms around him tightly and nuzzled in close. She was use to having the answers, she was use to being perfect, and having the perfect answers at her fingertips. But at the moment? She was adrift and her only lifeline was knowing that she wasn’t alone in this. ”We’re not alone, Tony. We’ve got each other, right?”

Gradually, Tony is brought back to the present by her embrace. ”We have each other,” he agrees, kissing the top of her head and holding her close. Eventually, he pulls away slightly. ”I need to go shower, we have to act normal. And I’m sure the others are desperate to question the doctor,” he adds dryly, grimacing at the thought. An interrogation is the last thing he wants right now, but he’ll have to face it eventually.

”Alright. I should clean up as well. Good luck dodging all the interrogations.” Constance offered him a half smile as she pulled away and let him leave. As she watched him leave, she leaned up against her bedpost and frowned a bit. Things were going from bad to worse with this news, and she wasn’t sure how to feel. For the moment, she was going to take that shower, and get ready for the day.

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Rhiannon stared at Renee’s lifeless body. None of this made any sense. Rhi started to shake their head, taking a shaky step backwards. ”No...no…this doesn’t make any sense. She was fine yesterday, she was….no.” Rhiannon shifted their focus to Ralph, confusion plain on their face. ”We went out in the rain, we were drunk and looking for fun…she came back to my room...She left. She was fine when she left. I was asleep, and she was supposed to be fine.” Rhi took another step back before collapsing on the ground.

”I was asleep, but she was fine…they were fine.”

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Location: Château de La Lune:
Skills: N/A

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Felix was maybe the one person they wanted to talk to right now. Brendan waited as things continued on in a strange blur. They kept to themselves, all attempts to talk to others that they kept sort of starting to make just felt wrong and wierd. They paced awkwardly from one spot to the next. as Felix told them to avoid the area and that food would be brought to them.

Felix was maybe the one person they wanted to talk to right now. He was probably busy. They were all being kept away from the area, which made sense. In tv shows that was always what happened with dead bodies. Someone had to come outline it probably--wait, was this a crime scene? Was this a crime?

Felix was maybe the one person they wanted to talk to right now. Where was he? Brendan wanted to go find him, but if he was by the body, then Brendan going over there would be trespassing on a maybe crime scene. Maybe it was that you had to act like it was a crime scene until you knew it wasn't? That sounded right. Were they going to autopsy Renee? What determined if someone got an aut--Brendan felt dizzy again thinking about that stuff. Some part of them had the urge to go look for Renee. Not Renee's body, but the actual, living Renee, as if she was just hiding somewhere. Wait, wasn't that one guy a ghost finder or something? He probably had one of those squeegee boards. Was all that stuff even real? Could they talk to Renee's ghost? Could they just ask Renee what happened? Luigi boards were safe as as long as you didn't take your hands off the pratchett, right?

Felix was maybe the one person they could wanted to talk to right now. He wasn't here right now. Brendan went into their room.

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Miguel was not in his room. Where he had gone was unclear. His stuff was still there except for his camera and a couple of pieces of equipment that Millicent and Sam had seen him use the night prior.

Smells of food were now coming from the lounge area upstairs. The bedrooms, Azalea, Terracotta, Plum, Lavender, and Evergreen, with direct access to the lounge area, could smell this food the best. Azalea was mysteriously empty. Terracotta had no one in it. Plum had been Renee’s room. Evergreen was Constance’s room, and Lavender was Tony’s.

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Ralph didn’t know what to do or say. Rhiannon collapsed to the ground and was going on about what they and Renee had done the night prior. Was Rhiannon the last to see Renee alive? He knelt beside them.

”Hey, Rhiannon,” he said awkwardly. ”Do you...” want to talk about it? Need help? He didn’t know where to even start. What do you do for someone who had just seen the corpse of someone they had just been with? He felt bad, he had been the one to tell them what happened. Could he have been more considerate? He hadn’t known, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t have been. He wanted to ask them if Renee had been drunk. Could she have gotten confused? Could that have been why she was at the top of the stairs and then she slipped? Tony had been vague.

”Let me help you to your room.” He offered his hands. Ralph was not small. He had grown up on a farm, he had played football, his body showed the signs of that. He wasn’t bulked out, he couldn’t be as a pilot, but he was still muscular. Rhiannon would be secure.

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Millicent had more or less taken the lead as they made their way to Miguel’s room. Did she knock? At this point, with all the noise and movement if Miguel was in there he would definitely be up. So she did a quick rap on the door and entered.

Miguel was not here. His things were though. She didn’t hear any sounds from the bathroom (not like she was about to check anyway). Millicent did notice his camera was not there. Did he get up early to take pictures? Or did he sneak out again last night to do some investigating and never made it back?

If so, where was he now then?

Sam followed behind Millicent, waiting until she'd gone into the room before entering himself. He was certain had she found another body she would've told him or at the very least screamed. But nothing. So he took that silence to mean he was safe to go inside. Miguel, however, was missing. He doubted he was killed as well, or if he was it wasn't in his own room given two pieces of equipment were missing amongst his belongings. His camera and his spirit box. It struck Sam as odd, but also as if it was a sign. A signal of his worst fears possible. ”One second, I want to try something.” He told her before going back towards his room and opening his case of equipment.

He'd considered using a Spirit Box himself, but decided to use something similar but slightly more high tech. The Ovilus. A device capable of allowing Spirits to contact the living while the machine itself showed the words being spoken so there was no guess work like with the Spirit Box. Sam quickly returned back into Miguel's room, turning the device on and placing it on a counter near the door before stepping further in. ”He took a spirit box. Maybe he's investigating, or maybe it's a clue. Either he saw something, or…he did something. Either way –” Sam was cut off as the unattended device suddenly came to life. A two toned beep before a voice spoke. “Murdered” Then, silence. Sam made his way towards the device and held it up, turning it so that Millicent could see the word on the screen.

Millicent watched Sam get to work, slightly impressed. So Miguel took a spirit box with him, which likely meant he was doing more ghost hunting. From what he told them last night, he was pretty much dead-set on doing it here. Miguel didn’t trust the family, and to a degree, she didn’t either. And now they had a dead person and a missing one.

Sam worked his device and Millicent didn’t want to discourage him. But soon, the device chirped and said something. Millicent stepped closer to hear it. Murdered? Was it saying that Renee was murdered? Or Miguel?

Or both?

”You’re the expert here, what does that mean?”

Sam waited a bit, hoping to get more information from the device, but it had since fallen silent. He placed it back down near the doorway on a counter before finally speaking up. ”Hard to say. Usually in an investigation we'd be asking a question and waiting for a response. But…I have my theories. Either Miguel saw something he wasn't supposed to and took his Spirit Box with him as a clue for me to use mine in hopes of an answer, or Miguel is on the run or dead. With how close we are to Renee's…to um that scene out there, it's possible she may be trying to break through and contact us to let us know this wasn't an accident.” There was of course, the third option Sam would never state aloud. That he had gotten an attachment at his last investigation and it was slowly murdering those around him.

That thought wouldn't leave the back of his mind. Not since this morning. It felt like a constant reminder of what he'd done, or failed to do. But no one here needed to know about this. ”What about you? What's your take? The device just took in some form of energy or interference and the result was a singular word, Murdered. What do you think it means?”

”Well, I believe I said it last night, but I can say it again. There’s way too much happening at this place during a simple award. Eleanor was acting very sketchy and cross with Renee, though I don’t think Renee was murdered, if she was, because of some steak sauce during dinner. I think, much like us, we all have some looming threat here. Perhaps Renne confronted the person and they pushed her. Miguel wanted to look into this place more and the family, so maybe he’s….been taken care of also. Or he’s out investigating and he’s perfectly fine. Either way, bad things is happening here and I don’t trust this family enough to not sweep it all under the rug and pretend everything’s fine.”

She didn’t say ‘I told you so’. It was not the time for that. But she called it.

For a moment, when Millicent had mentioned the looming threat, it had almost felt as though she was talking about him. A horrid thought dashing across his mind that the family may know for certain whether or not he had an attachment, and worse, that they were using it as a means to cull those they deemed unworthy. But then why all this charade? From the things they'd spoken about the night before, none of the evidence or ‘blackmail’ was something significant. Petty theft here, a dead relative there, it didn't add up. Nothing was adding up. ”Or maybe it's as simple as this. Lawrence didn't like how Renee or Miguel disrespected him and embarrassed him in front of everyone, and while having a heated argument with Renee, Miguel saw as Lawrence, either on purpose or accident, pushed Renee down the stairs and killed her.”

”Lawrence is too obvious. Yes, I realize I am using murder mystery logic here. If anything, he would have went after Miguel, which may explain why Miguel isn’t here, though not so much the missing Spirit Box. We haven’t even considered the other family members. Or, the other award recipients.”

Millicent thought about it more. ”Follow my logic here. We all come here with the promise of a potential windfall or, at the very least, a free vacation. We get here to assigned rooms so the family and other guests know where each person is. In our rooms are notes about things of our past, worries we all have and hold secret. Those have to be from a family member or, perhaps, one of the guests is in cahoots with a member of the family. After all, the family members get to pick the nominees. Eleanor has final say. I doubt all of this is over steak sauce at dinner or a potential slight so my thinking is that it falls back to those secrets. Maybe Renee had one that was so scary she intended to find out who and was killed in the process. So, I think we need to figure out two things. One: Who picked us to come here? It would stand to reason whoever had gathered us all here would be the one to have given us those warnings. Two: What was Renee’s secret?”

“I don’t trust anyone else here right now.” Millicent didn’t add “except you” though she did trust him a certain amount. But for all she knew, Sam was hiding more. ”I’ve shared all I have and I assume you have also. So…partners?”

Sam held out his fist for a fist bump. ”Partners. But…what could a school teacher's secret even be? Unless…nope. Don't even want to consider it. But you're right, maybe finding out or nominators would tell us more about what's happening around here. I may just know a few people to ask too. Ivanna seems to be fond of Felix, so maybe they can have him snoop a bit. Meanwhile there was a maid or two that seemed fond of me so maybe I can ask them to investigate in places we can't. After all, the ‘help' always hear more than they should and move unnoticed in places like this. Like our very own Kingsmen.”

Millicent returned the fist bump, happy to have some help here with someone she actually liked. ”I know I just used murder mystery logic but I am also about to ask if we want to break a horror movie rule. Should we split up? I can go ask Ivanna and you can check in with the maids? Or we can go together, though if I am being honest I don’t think the maids like me very much. I was definitely a bitch to them when I first got here.”

That tracks. Was all Sam could think. She wasn't exactly pleasant to him either upon first meeting, but it was his own fault. ”I doubt we'll get got in broad daylight. So if you want to tackle Ivanna by all means, I'll see if I can convince the maids to help.” His stomach grumbled as the scents of food began wafting in. ”After Breakfast perhaps.”

”Breakfast sounds good, despite everything. Hope we don’t have another gathering for it though. I really don’t relish sitting with this family any more than I have to.” Millicent looked around the room one last time before heading to the door and waiting for Sam.

”I think given the circumstances its buffet style. Or Continental or whatever it's called. Basically we'll all be wrangled together while the family tries to figure themselves out.”

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After leaving Miguel's room, Sam snatched his Ovilus and placed it back into his case. He'd considered getting dressed finally, at the very least not being in only boxers and knee high socks. Some of which was still a little wet (and slightly translucent) due to the water from earlier. But given what he was about to try and do (and the fact that everyone had already seen him in his boxers) he decided to stay this way at least till after breakfast. Besides if he showered and dolled up now the food would be cold, or worse…out. So he strode into the lounge, still in those light blue boxers with pin stripes in a slightly darker almost cornflower blue. One sock still up midway on his calf while the other was bunched around the ankles.

Sam grabbed one of the plates off the stack that lay on a table. Using the tongs that were allocated for each dish to help himself to a shaggy sized pile of food, but ensuring there was still enough room for what he hoped was a crêpe station being manned by the chef himself. He made his way over, smiling as he held the vacant side towards Gordon. ”Hey dinner was amazing last night, thank you man. Think you could get me a bit of crêpes? Not exactly sure how they're meant to be served but I heard Nutella and Strawberries are great with it.” He said, attempting to make some small talk with Gordon until he spotted Juliane, giving her a slight wink.

Gordon nodded and started making the crêpe for Sam. Juliane smiled, but it was a little shaky of a smile. She was trying to busy herself with making sure that the drinks were set up in just the right way. As if she expected Elenore to walk in and judge the exact order of drinks and how the handles were orientated. It might not be unlikely.

Sam let out a sigh. Noticing Juliane's shaky smile. Was it the murder? Gordon? Or something unrelated? Maybe it was him. Either way, he needed to try. He waited until Gordon finished making the dish before walking over towards the nearest table and placing his plate down atop of it. Turning around and making his way back towards Juliane as he grabbed a cup for some Orange Juice. ”Hey…you ok?”

“Doing better than Aurélia. She threw up twice already and only stopped crying a bit ago. I felt so bad leaving her but...” she gestured to the spread indicating that work had called. She shifted a little. “I would rather not chat about anything here, alright. Eat. Then we shall talk.”

Sam nodded. They really shouldn't be talking so openly about what he was going to ask anyways. ”Right. Well you know where my door is. I'll go eat then.” He replied with a tight lipped smile. It wasn’t exactly a bright smile kind of day, and he could relate to Aurélia. Had it not been for Millicent he may still very well be in the bathroom breaking down or worse, vomiting as well. Even now his stomach felt a little queasy. Between the murder this morning, the emotions still deeply messing his with mind, and what he was about to ask of Juliane, his stomach was fully in knots. But he sat down, slowly eating away at his meal to give her as much time as she needed.

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Constance knew she had to pull herself together, and fast. She had already let one person see her at her lowest that day, and she didn't need the others to see her like that. She noted sadly that she really didn't have to worry about anyone else having to share the bathroom with and grimaced at that thought. She knew that they would have to talk to the others, to figure out if they were also blackmailed. However, getting anyone else to try to admit it might be like pulling teeth. Why would anyone being blackmailed easily admit to it, especially to a virtual stranger when there was clearly a murderer on the loose?

Constance tossed her workout clothing into a pile in the corner as she stepped into the shower. Her mind was swirling as the warm water gently pelted her body, attempting to wash away the morning. She already knew she was going to have to take some time with her make up, to hide the little redness around her eyes from crying.

As she stood there, she let her mind wander a bit. Who would be the best to approach next. Maybe the magician? She seemed to be on to something the night before, maybe hinting at something. Maybe she could be an ally in this. She was trying to remember if there was anyone else that had been asking or hinting at any strangeness last night, but all she remembered about dinner was the gentleman in shorts, the drag queen, the punch, and the very rude family member.

Wait, the woman that had headbutted him at the bar had ended up dead. How was no one immediately suspicious of him. Or maybe they were and no one was saying anything. He had yelled death threats at her, and also at his niece for nominating her last night at the bar. She might have to bring that up to Tony later, when they were alone. At least they had a reasonable cover for being alone together, as most people had probably seen them got off together, or maybe even heard them the night before.

She finally turned off the shower and stepped out and wrapped herself in one of the towels. Whatever thoughts she had at the moment, she needed to focus and get ready for the day. There was a lot to do, and not a lot of time to do it in.

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Rhiannon let Ralph help them along. They grabbed onto his hands mechanically and started down the hallway. They were halfway to their room when Rhiannon clued in to where Ralph was trying to take them. They froze and pulled back.

”No, no I can’t…I can’t!” Rhi shook their head and stumbled back a step. ”That was where we were…we… I can’t go back. I need air, I need.” Rhiannon looked around frantically, searching for a way out, for somewhere to run.

”Okay, okay, they said we can go outside by going through the ballroom.” Ralph went back through the foyer and through the doors that led into the ballroom. There was a set of stairs on the far side that allowed someone to go to the first floor. On the first floor was a set of doors that exited into the back yard.

Rhiannon nodded and practically bowled Ralph over to get outside. The shock of the rain and wind woke them up, and they stood there for a moment before taking a deep breath and turning to Ralph to speak. ”Does anyone know what happened?”

”If they do, they haven’t said anything. The doctor guy, Tony, took a look and when asked he didn’t give a definitive answer of what happened. I don’t think that is his normal job. Like I think he doesn’t do post-mortums.” Ralph explained, he kept back a few feet on the porch so that he was protected from the rain.

Rhiannon looked away from Ralph and stared into the rain, looking towards the lake. The rain pounded on the water, reminding Rhi of the puddles they had run through with Renee less than 24 hours ago. God. It had only been a few hours since they left Rhiannon’s bed. ”This can’t be happening, not again” they mumbled.

Ralph had to make a choice here. Say something, ask what they meant, or let it drop. Let Rhiannon be alone with their thoughts. He wasn’t sure. ”Do you...I want to help, but I don’t know what to do.” He admitted.

Rhiannon turned to look at Ralph. Between the stress they felt and the look of earnest hopelessness on his face, it was only seconds before Rhiannon started to cry. They stumbled forward, burying their face in his chest, bawling. They didn’t know why it was affecting them so much, but everything hit at once.

Ralph wrapped his arms around Rhiannon. He didn’t mind letting them cry into his chest. He squeezed them just a little and rubbed their back with one hand. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just letting Rhiannon cry. What could he say? Sorry? That would be terrible. It’ll be okay? That was a lie. There was no fixing this. ”It isn’t your fault.” He decided. Unless Rhiannon had pushed Renee down the stairs themself it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. He would take the risk of telling Rhiannon it wasn’t their fault.

Rhiannon sniffed and pulled back from Ralph. They rubbed their hands across their face, suddenly tired again. ”We had been drinking…I should have pushed her to stay… if I had pushed more she would be fine.”

”You couldn’t have known.” He told them, holding their shoulders. ”If you had known I’d be impressed, you’d be psychic. Are you psychic?”

Rhi wrinkled their nose to keep from smiling. They shouldn't be smiling. ”Not last I checked.”

”Then it isn’t your fault,” he said sternly. ”It sucks, it is tragic. Fuck I can’t imagine what you’re feeling, but don’t feel guilt. It seems like you two had a good night. That means her last hours were good.”

Silent tears started to fall down Rhiannon's face from Ralph's words, memories swirled around in their head and they nodded. ”But now what? We can't get a hold of anyone to let Renee's family know…no one knows we're here! Fuck,” Rhi swore as well. They moved out of the rain but refused to walk inside yet.

Ralph winced, that was a good point. ”Okay, after we leave we’ll go find her family. They have to report it anyway. They’re trying to get cops. Elenore has to know things like her address and stuff. We’ll find out and go.”

Rhiannon nodded. ”Let's go now,” Rhiannon said, feeling more determined now that they had a goal to focus on.

”Alright, so first we find Elenore and get Renee’s information.” He offered his arm for Rhiannon.

Rhiannon glanced at the offered arm but waved it off and walked back inside. ”Let's go.”

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With his mind still spinning from the conversation he just had with Constance, Tony heads back to his way-too-much-lavender room. His morning up to this point has been utter chaos, but finally he has a moment of peace to try to figure out how the hell he can regain some semblance of control over this situation. Stripping out of the few clothes he was wearing, he heads into the bathroom, locks both doors, and steps into the shower. As the warm water rains down on him, Tony reviews everything he knows about the situation.

When he'd arrived at the château, there was an envelope on his desk containing receipts identifying the source of the funds used to pay for all of his education. Over the course of the evening, it had become rather clear - in Tony's opinion, at least - that all of the nominees had surprisingly little in common, considering they'd all been nominated for the same award. The first evening was, overall, far more chaotic than these sort of events had ever been in Tony's experience. Then, in the morning, one of the nominees was found dead with injuries that could be a result of drunken clumsiness, but... considering everything else that was happening, that really would be too much of a coincidence. And now he knows that Constance is being blackmailed too. For all they know, all the nominees are.

The fact that they know who had invested so much into his future certainly isn't great, but wouldn't necessarily be the end of the world; it's the why that would mean he's truly fucked. But them pointing it out in the first place certainly implies that they do know why. And if so... Tony doesn't really want to think about it much, but the reality of the situation is that there probably isn't much he wouldn't do to keep that information secret. Tony may not see an issue with the why, but most people would vehemently disagree - so every single person that knows the truth is a major liability. There's no getting around the fact that he needs to figure out who is in on this, what they know, how they found out if possible, then the problem needs to be fully - and permanently - solved. It's not a comfortable thought.

The fact that a nominee is dead seriously complicates the situation. If her death was not an accident - and Tony has a gut feeling that it wasn't - then someone here at the château - or maybe multiple people - is willing to kill. But once again, the "why" matters significantly. Was it a fit of rage? The image of Lawrence flashes in his mind. Or was it a cold, calculated decision? If the theory he'd discussed with Constance was true, she may have been blackmailed too; did the blackmail factor into her death? Did she ask too many questions, or uncover the truth of what's going on here? One reason would have a wildly different impact on how the problem could be safely investigated compared to another. For now, Tony concluded that he'd have to assume any and all of those reasons are true. So for now, the killer has an explosive temper, and/or is willing to kill to keep their secrets safe, and/or has vendettas against the people they've invited into their home.

Well, that is completely unhelpful for trying to narrow the list down. Ugh.

In the end, what he'd discussed with Constance was undoubtedly the best course of action to start with. They had to find out if for some reason they were being targeted specifically, or if all of the nominees were being blackmailed. If they were all in the same boat, the possibility of working together would be one of the only advantages he had in confronting this dangerous problem. He definitely couldn't afford to trust them too much, though - they can't find out what his true intentions are. None of them would understand. I mean, how bad of a secret could someone like Constance, a ballerina, possibly have? At the thought, Tony felt a vague sense of déjà vu, a memory somewhere on the periphery of his subconscious... but he couldn't place it.

Dismissing the thought, he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He was as clean as he was going to get; now it's time to quit stalling and start finding allies. Well... after getting dressed, anyway.

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Breakfast was set up like a buffet. There was a table with drinks ranging from coffee and hot chocolate to juice and water. There was some champagne for making mimosas if someone wanted it. Juliane was in charge of that and the table of bread. The pastries set out there were all beautiful, with an assortment of jams. There was also fruit available. Gordon ran a portable crepe maker. Each crepe was made to order and perfect. A wide range of ingredients was available for the crepes.

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Ralph and Rih entered the ballroom together. Ralph didn’t seem bothered by Rih denying his offered arm. The pair of them went up the stairs in the ballroom and from there back into the Foyer.

Ralph wasn’t 100% sure where Elenore would be, but the last place he had seen her go was back toward her room. The door that led to the family’s rooms had a number code lock. He tried the door anyway. It didn’t open. So, he knocked. He didn’t have to wait long until Elizabeth opened the door. She was dressed in loose-fitting clothing and a sun hat, strangely incongruous with the current weather.

“What?” she asked. Closing the door so that Ralph and Rih couldn’t push past.

"We’re looking for Elenore.”

“She’s busy, if you need something, ask Felix. That’s what he is here for.” She walked away.

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Rhiannon stared at Elizabeth, very confused about the woman’s attire. They cocked their head to the side, trying to figure out the reason behind the sun hat. The confusion shifted to frustration and annoyance when Elizabeth started to walk away from them.

”Oh? Does Felix have Renee’s address? Her family’s contact information? You know, since she’s dead and her family has no idea she’s here? Since no one knows any of us are here? Why is that, by the way, hmm? Seems stupid now. Renee’s dead, and Elenor can’t even give us the time of day?”

Okay, so maybe Rhiannon felt a little more than sadness at Renee’s sudden death.

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It felt odd to be getting breakfast so soon after seeing a dead body, but if Millicent were being honest she was starving. She had drunk a lot the night before and was feeling it this morning, though seeing Renee sobered her up quickly.

Sam and her had a plan. She was going to see Ivanna about Felix and gather information. She had to be careful about it. Millicent went and got herself some food and coffee, steering clear of the mimosas for the time being. She needed to be alert. She took a seat and ate, waiting to see if Ivanna would come join them.

It occured to her that Ivanna may not even be Ivanna. Drag Queens weren't on 24/7 after all, but she had to believe she could recognize her. Millicent was good at reading people. So she kept an eye on everyone coming and going. Process of elimination. When she caught Ivanna, she would wave her over to join her. Truth be told, she wanted to talk to her some more anyway.

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Constance walked over to the vanity in her room and then sat down and sighed. She looked at herself in the mirror and frowned a bit at that point, and tugged over her makeup case. She opened it and started applying makeup around her eyes to hide the fact she had been crying recently. Even in these moments she couldn't let any of the others see her as anything less than perfect. Yes, Tony had seen her fall to pieces, but well, he had also seen her in some other more intimate moments a few hours earlier.

She started applying her eyeliner as she thought of what would be their next steps. She would approach the magician for sure, and try to strike up a conversations. She just hoped she would be receptive. If only she could also remember her name. It began with a "M" right? Drat. She had been so focused on the conversations on her end of the table and flirting with Tony that the name was escaping her. However, how was she suppose to know that there was going to be a murder and the conversation of the strange events was about to become more relevant come the morning?

Bringing up the topic of blackmail was going to be much trickier. Working together with Tony on that was going to be imperative. He was the only person she trusted at the moment, because she fully knew he wasn't responsible for the murder or the blackmail.

She finished applying her make up and closed up the little bag and zipped it up. She then walked over to her wardrobe and opened it and fished out a casual outfit for the day. It seemed that they were going to be stuck inside, which felt like such a horrible cliche to her. Trapped on an island, in the middle of a storm, and a murder? Did Agatha Christie have a hand in planning this whole weekend? Constance had never been terribly fond of murder mystery books growing up, but now it seemed she was trapped in one.

She tugged on her outfit for the day, and zipped up the side of the skirt and decided to step in the lounge. Even if she wasn't terribly hungry at the moment, that was where everyone else was gathering. Where else would be a better place to start?

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Sam sat there, half eating, half moving the food on his plate around from side to side. It wasn't that Gordon wasn't an amazing Chef, nor that the changed Breakfast plans left him wanting. But the vast emptiness of the room coupled with why was both sitting here having breakfast as well as why he was physically here in France in the first place, weighed heavily on him. He took another bite, shifting in his seat to get a better view of who else was in the room, while still ensuring nothing of note slipped out. No one yet had joined him. Maybe they were all getting ready? Maybe he should've gotten ready.

He let out a huff of air, blowing his messy bangs up before the flopped right back down. How the hell was he meant to do any of this? He wasn't like any of the people here, he wasn't exactly meant for politicking or social events that required asking questions in discreet manners so that the others wouldn't know. It was clear now both with how Tony had responded to him, as well as Juliane. He glanced back at her, staring for a moment in the event she'd meet his gaze, but before she could another walked into the room. At first Sam was excited, maybe he could talk to another contestant about all this for a moment, but when he saw it was Millicent, all the air deflated right out of him. They'd already talked and formulated a plan. What more could they say to each other? Minutes after?

It seemed that she felt the same. Having sat away from him, no doubt to create an area where she could speak to others privately so they felt less pressured to keep their secrets. Smart. Sam's fork hung off his lips, caught between his teeth as he sat there thinking about everything that had come to pass. Millicent with robberies, Miguel with his brother's death, Ralph and his former flair, how did any of this connect? Connections…wait, wasn't that why the other dancer was so upset? Because she had spent the night with Renee before the incident. But…their rooms were so close to each other how did…how did she end up at the bottom of the stairs?

Sam's seat clattered backwards with a screech as he quickly stood up from the table. Making his way back out of the room and into the hallway of doors. At first he just tried to scan the carpet, looking for any obvious drag marks or footprints, any change in the direction of hairs that would showcase movement. But this thing was so old and trampled on you couldn't gather any information from it at all. So he got lower, on his hands and knees searching between Rhiannon's room and Renee's. Then from there to the stair case, or as close as he was willing to get to it. No specks of blood or signs of distress either. Sam let out another sigh. ”None of this makes any sense…” He said to no one but himself as he began to stand up and make his way back into the breakfast area. Constance now having joined in it seemed.

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Location: Château de La Lune:
Skills: N/A

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Brendan stood blankly in his room. There wasn’t much to do in here. There wasn’t much to do out there, either. He had no idea what to do with himself right now. He had that feeling you get in your arms when you talk to your crush, where every position feels awkward, except now it was in his whole body. Standing, walking, even sitting on the toilet all felt unnatural. He had an urge to curl up on his bed and weep while holding his stuffie. There were probably better uses of his time, though. He decided that curl up and cry would be Plan B, only to be enacted if he absolutely couldn’t find anything else to do. He got out of his pajamas, changing into converse, skinny jeans, and an old bright yellow cast t-shirt from when his college’s theatre department had done Heathers.

He stood in front of the mirror, staring at himself. His old plan to be in drag the whole time and hype everyone up with silly drag all day every day stuff felt so meaningless now. He stared at his wig. He pulled the crumpled-up note from it and stared at it. He thought about it more. Was it a coincidence? Was blackmail connected to death? Did other people get weird notes? Probably not. Who else here would have anything to hide?

Did Renee have things to hide?

Brendan felt slightly lightheaded again. This time it wasn’t anything to do with Renee. There was a pain in his stomach. He was really hungry. He really didn’t feel like eating, but he knew he needed to. He headed out the door towards the lounge, not realizing until he was close enough to the area that he could hear who was inside that the note was still in his hand. He panicked, and stuffed it in his pocket.

He walked in. He was lonely. He was confused. He was disconnected. He was going to have, like, at least three cups of hot chocolate.

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Walking out of the bathroom, Tony walks over to his luggage to decide what he'd be wearing for the day. He settles on a blue polo shirt which he matches with navy dress pants; much more casual than a suit, but still well-dressed. The pants don't seem too wrinkled, so he doesn't bother steaming them - although in truth, after the morning he's had he probably wouldn't have cared enough to do it anyways. Besides, he wanted to get started on finding allies.

Now dressed, he grabs his discarded pants from last night and takes his wallet and phone out of the pockets. Glancing at his phone, he notices that he has one unread message. Who the hell is texting me? he wonders. If he was being called into work they would have, well, called - and besides, they know he's taking a few days off, just not why. But it's not work; he has no idea who sent it. Curious, he opens it.



Shocked, Tony reads the message again.

What the fuck?!

He reads it a third time. Swallowing, his eyes dart around the room, suddenly suspicious of being monitored. After a moment, he stares at the text again.

You know what happened. Keep quiet.

Tony had been skeptical of Renee's death being an accident, but he hadn't been certain it was murder, either. It was just a hunch, because of the blackmail and all the other strange events he'd seen. But this text proves it. Someone knows that he knows, and wants him to keep it to himself. The implied threat seems obvious: if they catch him saying the wrong thing, either he'll be dead, or at best maybe they'll reveal his secrets... in which case he might as well be dead anyway. There is no doubt that this text is related to the blackmail; it must have been one of the La Lunes that sent it, although he has no idea who.

He has no idea how they know of his suspicion, either. There are only three possibilities he can think of: Constance is involved, his conversation with Constance was overheard somehow, or they don't truly know, they only suspect he might and are covering their bases. The first option he feels comfortable immediately ruling out; not only does all his previous logic stand regarding why the blackmailer must be one of the La Lunes, but also her reaction to Renee's death seemed far too genuine to be faked. The latter would be very convenient, but of the other two options he had no way of knowing which was true. Microphones or cameras could very easily be hidden pretty much anywhere nowadays, he could look around every inch of the building and still not be guaranteed to find them.

Angry at this whole situation, Tony pulls his arm back to throw the phone at the wall in frustration, but he stops himself. He knows it wouldn't solve anything. Sighing, he sets the phone down on the bed next to him and holds his head in his hands.

What the fuck do I do now?

He considers responding to the text, but he can't come up with anything that might improve his situation. There's no chance they would give away any information, and he's in no position to negotiate. There's no way they would agree to keep his secrets to themselves in exchange for him keeping theirs - there's no way they uncovered his darkest secrets just for him to cover up a murder that hadn't even happened yet. Even if they did make such a promise, how could he ever trust it?

Tony is still determined to eliminate the threat of his blackmail, but this makes what was already an extremely difficult situation damn near impossible. If they catch him snooping around, he could be dead. If they catch him conspiring with anyone, or maybe even just think he might be, he could be dead. Yet if he complies and does nothing, the threat of his secrets being exposed remains. All roads seem to lead to the same outcome. But Tony stubbornly refuses to accept that. His mantra in life, for a long time now, has been that failure just means you haven't tried hard enough. If he tries hard enough, he will find a solution. He has to.

If he defied them, would they dare to confront him publicly? Surely their plan did not involve immediately killing everyone, or unceremoniously revealing everyone's secrets. If that was the case, they would've just done it as soon as they arrived. So maybe they wouldn't immediately stop him from defying them. If he keeps other nominees around him, maybe he would be safe, at least long enough for a better plan to be devised. But was he willing to gamble his life on that assumption?

After a few minutes of reflection, Tony makes his decision. Fuck them. I'll call their bluff. But very, VERY carefully. As soon as he'd discovered the blackmail yesterday he had known he was in grave danger, even if he spent the night trying to put it out of mind. He knew he would have to eliminate the problem, and he knew how risky that would inevitably be. He just hadn't expected the danger to come so soon. But he can handle this. He's used to deception, hiding secrets in plain sight. Playing things off as being normal. I can do this.

Tony gets up, pockets his phone, and heads to the door leading to the lounge, where breakfast awaits.

God, please don't let my poker face fail me now.

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Most of the living, non-missing guests were now in the lounge, except for Tony, Ralph, and Rhiannon. The pair of them were occupied confronting an uncaring Elizabeth at the top of the stairs.

Inside the lounge, Gordon continued to fill orders of crepes for anyone who asked. Juliane was keeping herself busy, even when she didn’t have something to do properly.

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“I don’t know. Why would I know that?” Elizabeth said over her shoulder as she reached the stairs, the maid waved her off. This was Olivia, the full-time maid.

“Please use the ballroom stairs.”

“Why? Shouldn’t this already be clean?”

“It was, it needed to be cleaned again,” the maid said. She looked uncomfortable.

"Renee died at the bottom of the stairs. That’s why we want to find Elenore to get her next of kin information.” Ralph stood near Elizabeth.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll use the other stairs.” Elizabeth pushed past him, ignoring what he had just said.

"Wait, tell us where to find Elenore.”

“She’s in her room or something. I don’t know. It isn’t like I keep track of her all of the time.” Elizabeth entered the ballroom and headed for the stairs.