Hell Toupee 2
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Date: 01/29/2018 |
Clutching At Curls office
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Cast: Storyteller: | |
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First, a recap. It's been a little while since Maya's experience in that nightclub, and she managed to snag the suspicious-looking hairpiece and take it home with her. Several magical investigations followed, and she found trace amounts of magic. Not enough to mark it as a Wonder -- more likely, an instrument or sympathetic target of magic, which had called for the dark, corruptive whispers of a bane spirit. So at least they don't have a full-scale fetish on their hands; instead, they have some mischievous magician. These are the findings she's shared so far with Graham. More mundane examination has picked out another couple of details. The toupee is 'real', made from human hair... and a tag on the inside leads them to Clutching At Curls, an online retailer for wigs, hair-extensions, and the like. A little time on their website tracks down an in-person office in downtown Detroit, and they arrange a meeting for Monday, mid-morning. The Clutching At Curls office is a tiny thing -- a couple of rooms above an accounting firm, mostly intended as a place to route mail and for a more official-sounding address on various statements. Their contact is Elise McBride; once reception has called ahead, she comes down to greet them. She's a thirtysomething woman wearing a chic, well-tailored suit, including a formal hat that covers most of her short, black hair. "Welcome, welcome! Simon, right?" Because of course that's the name Graham would have used when arranging this meeting. Simon makes his way into the small office, looking for all the world like he might actually work there. He's ditched the oxfords and vest, and instead is sporting some brown loafers to go with his drag grey suit. A quick glance behind him confirms for the Hermetic that Maya is, indeed, still with him. When greeted by their contact, Simon flashes his best smile and immediately takes a seat. "I'm very glad that you were able to take my call. I have just one small inquiry and hopefully I'll be out of your hair." A quick flash of a grin to perhaps blunt the horrible joke, and Simon rests his hands in his lap. Maya is dressed, well, quite nicely for Maya: styling (if down at heel) Sorel winter boots, black denim leggings, and a flattering hip-length aqua sweater pattered with a colorful Fair Isle round yoke. And, of course, that Marlene Dietrich coat. She's so wholesome and friendly it might make your teeth hurt. Great Goddess, she put on *makeup*. She has a very light hand with it, of course. Graham's pun makes her roll her eyes at the woman--see what we have to put up with?--and she, too, smiles, though hers has a little awkwardness to it. They've already arranged a 'lying' signal, and obviously Graham will be playing the face man. Elise, for her part, actually laughs out loud at Simon's pun, her grin spreading. Well, that explains some of those smile lines that have started showing. Unfortunately, it seems Maya is alone in her distaste for such puns. "I'll have to remember that one. You don't mind if we use it as a slogan? 'Five days delivery, then we're out of your hair'?" She chuckles to herself, and heads up into the office and behind her desk. And, yes, quickly scribbles down that pun on a nearby notepad. "Of course, of course. What can I do for you?" Simon, for his part, plays up the small joke, chuckling quietly and offering Elise a gracious nod. "No problem at all." As the trio move toward the office, Simon looks back toward Maya, brows raised slightly in a 'so far, so good' expression, and soon they're within the office. The Hermetic takes a seat and, upon lacing his fingers, rests his hands in his lap. "Well, Elise, you see, I have one of your... pieces here, and I'd like to find out who bought it from you." He pauses her for a moment, giving her a half-second to employ the appropriate amount of corporate C-Y-A before he adds, "the man who bought this, well... he did something, and I'd like the chance to talk with him about it. He didn't mean to leave this behind, you see, and I'd like to return it." Yeah, because that's plausible, right? Prudently, Maya keeps her mouth shut. And tries to act like a good little... wife, or significant other, who just happened to ride along on this errand. No, that is not plausible, says the frown that appears on Elise's brow. It doesn't suit her, not judging by the lines that mark off her more usual expressions. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that," she says. "You see, we have strict privacy policies in place, and can't give out our customer base's information. If you'd like to return it to him, perhaps give it to the Lost Property department of... wherever he'd left it? Then he'd be able to come find it when he needs to." Simon actually heaves a sigh, looking over at Maya with dejection evident in his expression. "I told you she wouldn't believe me." Turning back to the woman he frowns once more, as if considering his next steps. Finally, he 'gives up the ghost' and shrugs. "Alright, look, my client caught this guy in a... compromising... situation with his wife. I'm just trying to get my job done here. I mean, the guy knows she's married and doesn't care. This kind of thing is just... ridiculous. Anyway, I figure perhaps I owe you something." As he speaks, his gesturing this way and that with his hands. Stopping here, he pulls some cash from his breast pocket, twenties on the outside of the small bundle. "I don't know, maybe, uhm... buy you lunch or something, to, uhm... apologize for wasting your time." Yep, a bribe. What could possibly go wrong? Maya chews on one side of her lip, and looks over to him wide-eyed with shock. Elise wrinkles her nose, and seems to buy this one just fine. "Honestly. It's great that our product gives them such a confidence boost, but the application could stand to be much better." She shakes her head, disapproving of this fictional affair. "So he ran out after being caught and you need to find the man in question, right? Sure, sure, I'll get the information. Do you happen to have the serial number handy? It should be on the inside tag, I'll need that to find whose it was." "I was a little surprised. Usually the ones that have them are the ones paying me, not the other way around. Paper and pen so I can write the name down?" The 'investigator' takes the piece of paper with one hand, and discretely unfolds the quartet of twenties and holds it behind the paper, the whole thing resting flat on the desk as he writes down the serial number from memory. A deal is a deal, after all. "You're ready to start talking to airlines?" This, to Maya, who's role is either that of partner or assistant, but considering her silence to this point, is likely the latter. Maya nods, calm and professional. "Of course," she says. Elise raises an eyebrow, looking down at the note. "Um, are you sure? The serial numbers can get pretty complex, I wouldn't expect you to have it memorised." She looks across to Maya, seeing if she's on board with giving the number from memory. You don't tend to expect eidetics. "It's a gift. And a curse." Simon shrugs at that, shaking his head with practiced nonchalance. Oddly enough, this time he doesn't actually have to lie. "Head for numbers, see. The third number is a three, and the sixth number is a six. This four and this six make ten, and this seven and this three make ten, but the pattern is here, and here and here." He stops after a second, looking up at the woman with a small grin. "Sorry, just... the patterns help me memorize, just in case. You know?" Yep, nothing out of the ordinary about that. Nothing at all. A clearing of his throat and he pushes through. "So, is that all you'll need?" Elise has to glance back and forth, between Simon and the note, and... yes, the patterns he mentions are right there. "Huh. Well then." She seems more shaken by the display of memory than by the talk of affairs. How can someone be that good with numbers? "Just this, and some time to go through our customer relations database. I, ah, do /not/ have a head for numbers." "Would you like us to wait here, or...?" Simon asks. Elise shakes her head. "No, no, it's fine! Do you have an email address? I'll email you the information once I've found it." She's already started going through the computer on that desk, though she's not the most tech-savvy of people. Good God, she's not even using keyboard shortcuts. It's a good thing Aster's not here to see this. "Thank you so much," Maya says, giving the woman a slightly awkward smile. "This will help us enormously." "That would be great." Simon rolls his shoulders before standing up, taking a moment to see if the woman offers her hand, and if so, he'll give a firm shake. Then he rattles off an email address he used to use back in college, something that likely won't actually trace back to who he is today. That's enough cover, right? "Thank you so much, and have a good day." And, with that, Simon moves to see himself and Maya out. An hour or two later, that old email address pings with a new message. Graham, of course, still remembers the password and can go get it. Their man is Damian Hess. Eidetic or not, Maya might remember hearing that first name, that night in the club. They now have his full name, email address, and the post-office box where he'd had the wig shipped -- no phone number or home address, unfortunately, but still a good haul of information. Maya's brow furrows. "That's the guy. Who was getting rough, in the club. So he's just a target. Or victim, or whatever..." | |
