Zazriel tapped a finger against his chin idly, his eyes scanning the black print that was projected on the screen resting against the main foyer wall, looking for any detail that would give him a clue as to who its owner might be. Yet every time he thought of it, he could only draw blanks. If this was a criminal, as security and guests had suggested, then it was not one he was aware of. Something that spoke to the culprits caution, as he had been in this line of work for a while now, and knew almost every criminal element in Astrum there was to know, especially the newer ones. For this one to have escaped his gaze, they must have planned their heist very well.
“Curious,” he muttered, shaking his head. Continuing to gaze at the unidentifiable print, he motioned for one of the guards.
“Tell me,” he began, staring at the man from out of the corner of his eye. “Did you see any suspicious activity tonight? Either before or during the party?”
“No sir,” the man replied. “None. We did find the main breaker tampered with though, but that was after the backup generator had kicked in, and the lights came back on.”
“Yes, I know. No need to remind me,” he said curtly, waving away the man's explanation with an exasperated sigh. “I was there to examine it, after all.”
And he’d found nothing then, either. As a matter of fact, the only thing his examination revealed was the fact that the magic flowing through the box had been cut off abruptly. Which suggested the use of a disrupter of some kind. But such tools were common in the criminal underworld, especially amongst thieves, and the fact that one had been used here brought him no closer to uncovering the mastermind behind all of this.
“Yes, of course, sir,” the man said, jolting him from his thoughts. “My apologies.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Zazriel replied, turning away from the print. Stepping away from the square of projected light, he strode over to a sturdy looking woman with tan skin who was off to the side questioning a few of the guests. A small group of elegantly dressed men and women, ones reminiscent of the higher ranking angels he used to serve, albeit far more… earthly. Clearing his throat, he locked gazes with her. A subtle signal, and not one that had not gone unheeded. Crossing his arms, he watched as she divorced herself from the group before striding over to where he was.
“Well,” he asked, once she was closer. “Have you found anything?”
She shook her head, “Not yet, no, and the guests weren’t any help. How about you?”
“Nothing,” he said, peering around the room curiously. “The building’s main circuit breaker was tampered with, by a disruptor it looks like, but those are a dime a dozen on the black market.”
“Hmm. And what about the thumb print?”
Zazriel shook his head.
“I’ll check our records just to be sure, but going off of memory alone, I’ve got nothing. Whoever left that print isn’t one of the big players in town, or even one of the new bloods.”
“A foreigner then?” She prompted, raising an eyebrow.
“Maybe,” he said, nodding. “Though that doesn’t make this any easier. If anything it makes our jobs harder, as we have to widen our search to include people travelling into the city, both legally or otherwise.”
“True…”
There was a pause.
“You know there’s something that confuses me about all of this,” the woman said, hand on her hip.
“And what might that be Liel?” Zazriel asked.
“Why they would leave that behind,” Liel said, nodding towards the projection. “Especially when they’ve seemed so keen on not leaving evidence behind?”
Zazriel turned his gaze towards the print once more.
“I don’t know. Calling card perhaps?”
“Kind of a strange calling card, don’t you think?”
Zazriel chuckled. “We’ve seen stranger.”
A scream came from further inside the house, prompting Zazriel and company to investigate. The source of the sound was a plump woman who wore a black dress with gold lace. She held onto the arm of a man that matched her in many respects.
Face red with emotion, tears running down her cheeks, she kept repeating two words over and over. “My necklace! My necklace!!”
“Must have been pretty sentimental if she’s this upset over it,” he mused as he approached, Liel by his side.
“Excuse me, ma’am?” he said, taking a knee. “My name is Zaz, I’m a freelance detective investigating the theft that took place here.”
He took out a small leather card holder and opened it, showing her his badge, a shield like thing emitting a soft golden glow. Although he wasn’t technically serving alongside law enforcement, all freelancers in fields like his were required to carry a unique mana laced identifying badge on their person to avoid clients getting scammed.
“My condolences for the loss of your property, I’m sure it was very meaningful to you,” he said, his tone one of sympathy. “But did you see anything suspicious going on tonight? Anything at all?” He asked, flipping his badge closed and sliding it back into his coat pocket.
“See anything?” The woman answered, sniffing and wiping a tear. “No. I didn’t see anything, but I felt them when they touched me.” She took a deep breath. “My name is Elizabeth Warren, and I am a psychic. You have to let me help you. If I get a single hand on that thief, I can identify them. That necklace is a one of a kind, priceless artifact. It’s been in my family for fifty generations!”
“Please, there’s no need to get worked up Mrs. Warren,” Zazriel said, patting her shoulder consolingly. “We will get your property back along with everyone else’s, I promise. Now, as for your offer, I will keep on call should we get our hands on any suspects. The last thing I want is to jeopardize your safety furth-”
“Oh nonsense!” Mrs. Warren interrupted. “My way is faster.”
The large man beside Mrs. Warren finally spoke, saying, “Honey, let the man do his-”
“Oh be quiet George.” She commanded. “That necklace is worth more than anything else we own, and you know it. I’m not sitting back and doing nothing!”
Mr. Warren sighed a defeated breath, something he was clearly used to doing. He then looked to Zazriel and shrugged. “Trust me, you don’t want to argue with her.”
Mrs. Warren smiled at her husband’s comment and held on tighter to his arm. Those close enough to see the exchange shifted in awkward silence, their eyes darting back and forth between Zazriel and the married couple. Mrs. Warren’s gaze stayed locked onto Zazriel, impatiently waiting on his response.
Zazriel gave the man a knowing glance, before turning his attention to Mrs. Warren, an understanding smile spread across his face.
“Very well Mrs. Warren, we’ll do this your way,” he said, rising to his full height and motioning for a guard.
“Gather all the guests and security personnel you can find,” he said quietly. “And bring them here for Mrs. Warren to…”
He cast a brief glance at the woman.
“Examine.”
Nodding, the guard strode off as Zazriel let his gaze wander around the room, his mind lost in thought. How had the perpetrator managed to get in and out without being seen? And, furthermore, why would they leave behind a print? Most thieves wanted to be as untraceable as humanly possible, which made this one's brashness all the more perplexing.
It just didn’t make any sense.
Fetzen