Excitement at the Operahouse (southern belle)

[Altamira]

The people gave a scream--a man had just been shot dead, in cold blood, and there by his side wept his widow, blowing her sorrows into a wet, gingham handkerchief. The smoking gun lay on the cobblestones next to the corpse, with its owner nowhere in sight. Police sirens rung in the background, and a sudden fear seemed to spring into the woman's heart; would she be accused of the murder, being the only one present at the scene of the crime?

What an interesting set-up to an opera, Louis thought as he leaned forward in his soft, velvet seat, enthralled by the gripping, dramatic music of the orchestra and the strong emotions of the scene playing out on the stage below. He was feeling even more grateful than before to the mysterious person who had so generously given him balcony-seat tickets to the show--even if a twinge of discomfort still lingered in him as to their exact reason for doing so.

When he had first sat down--when those doubts and suspicions were still very fresh in his mind--he had taken care to look over his companions in the balcony, finding them to be more or less ordinary on their own, but perhaps a strange pair to be sharing such expensive seats together. One was a wealthy man, very smartly dressed in a rich black overcoat and slacks, with a crisply-ironed white dress shirt, golden pocket-watch, and lavender cravat made of silk that hinted at the very degree of his affluency. He looked to be somewhere in his late-forties, with graying hair and mustache, and behaved with a great air of dignity and refinement about him; to sum things up, he was the typical, high-class opera-goer, probably more so there to bolster his image than to enjoy the music and theater.

The other guest on the other hand was a young woman, with long, almost elfish ears, vibrant blue eyes that gleamed with the vitality of youth, and attire that rather gave her the appearance of an adventurer of the wilds of nature; she was just as much swept up in the musical masterpieces as Louis was, save for when, from time to time, she'd try to chat with the gray-haired man who sat in-between the minstrel and her, without ever having much success.

Yes, this is an interesting trio indeed, Louis pondered, turning his gaze back to the stage where the blood-red curtains were rising on the next scene. There now in the jailhouse was the widow, shackled in a holding cell as officers spat her rights at her once again. Continually, she pleaded in a sad voice that had gone husky with her tears, "I didn't kill my husband! Oh God, I didn't! I didn't..." but her cries fell upon insensitive ears. She clutched the bars, repeating the words until she collapsed to the floor in a shivering heap.

The violins hit a sweet, sorrowful note as the curtains fell down once again, and a sign that read, "Intermission" in curly print was placed on the stage.

After a moment of collecting his thoughts, Louis had turned to converse with his balcony-mates when the gray-haired man crumpled upon his armrest. The low thud of the man's body hitting the metal and cloth drew the attention of the woman beside him, who turned with wide-eyes to look at her companions.

"W-what's wrong with him, did...did he pass out?"

Louis still wore the same shocked expression she did as he checked the man's pulse. There wasn't one. "I...I believe he's dead, Miss." He could hardly believe the words himself.

The young woman stared at the corpse leaning upon the chair for a moment in silent distress. Finally, she managed to ask, "Do...do you have any idea how?"

Louis shook his head. It was all he had time to do before both of them were whirling around at the sound of a scream from the next balcony over.

"That man's dead! Somebody call the police!"
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Neither Louis nor the young lady were allowed to leave the theater. The police had arrived promptly after the call was given, and masterfully took control of the situation; they questioned every last guest, actor, musician, and employee before sending them on their way. They had left the minstrel and the adventurer for last.

A broad-shouldered officer with penetrating eyes strode up to them. "You know this whole thing looks pretty bad for the both of you," he started. It wasn't a question.

He was answered with silence.

He went on, "You were the only ones that were ever seen near this man tonight, and...well, to be frank, you don't look like the normal opera-goers. The woman here carries a bow and arrows and a dagger, and you, Sir..." he turned to look hard at Louis, "You hide a sword and some sort of medieval halberd in your instrument cases. Very interesting, that."

Both suspects kept their cool throughout this scrutiny. It seemed to pay off.

"In your favor, however, is the fact that we have discovered that the murder was not committed with any one of those weapons. You're still under suspicion for your proximity to the man and dangerous belongings, but we're willing to give you a chance..."

"A chance?" the young woman repeated.

"Yes, a chance. If you two...with those weapons of yours, I take it you're both quite capable, perhaps even more so than my officers...if you two can find whoever did this--if you can prove your innocence--then we'll let you go, scot-free. But you have to prove to us, without a shadow of a doubt, that any killer you find is truly the culprit in this case. Capeesh?"

Louis and the adventurer exchanged glances before the minstrel nodded for them both. "Yes."

OoC: I'm still a little rusty, but hopefully it's okay. ^^;;