The Mysterious Miss Direction vol. 02

Harriet looks delighted to hear this. "Shame on me for not inquiring earlier on this subject. I would very much like to meet your parents. They sound like wonderfully interesting and talented people. This shop of yours may even hold something Mr. Key would be interested in acquiring. He has a keen interest in entertainers through the ages. Gleemen, minstrels, jesters, and bards of old. Those that weave stories are his favorite.

"Do you have any knowledge of this subject, Holly? Do you think you would be able to spot an authentic jester costume from the 16th century?"

Holly makes the mistake of taking another sip of her drink when Harriet asks her about jesters. She's thankful that she doesn't spit the water in her employer's face, but the wracking cough that she hides behind her hand, and then her napkin wouldn't go unnoticed. Dabbing a bit at her now watering eyes, she smiles apologetically.

"Sorry. Guess my lungs were a bit thirsty too," she chuckles hoarsely. Clearing her throat to ease the pain, she composes herself enough to answer the question. "I'm sure I could spot a jester costume from a mile away, yes. But I may need to brush up on the history of court fools to differentiate the time period it came from," she lied.

Trying to quickly divert away from that line of questioning, she goes back to the idea of her parents. "And I'm sure my family would love to meet you. My father is always excited to talk off the ears of anyone who would care to listen, especially now that he's on the mend, and I'm sure my mother would love to share her knowledge of costume making, as well as a good deal of gossip about the industry."

"You know, they used to be part of the circus that closed down a while back." Now she was just rambling, and opening up the idea that she was also part of the old circus... but at least it got the conversation away from 16th century Jesters...

Harriet displays a wide range of emotions as you ramble through many topics in quick succession. She first seems impressed with your own appraisal of your knowledge of historical jester’s attire. Then she seems even more intrigued by your interesting and unique family. When you just keep on going, Harriet looks like a worried mother that wants to reach across the table and check your forehead for a fever.

"There is no need to be nervous, Holly. You already have the job and I wasn’t quizzing you. I want to impart knowledge to you. I won't hold it against you if you are unfamiliar with a subject we are looking into."

A server comes by with a large silver platter to serve your meals from. Once the server is gone, Harriet returns to the conversation. "One of my earliest memories is of my father taking me to the circus. It is a real shame that it closed down. I am sure having parents that were part of it could cause some stress. I hope you didn’t have extended periods of separation from them. But it must be nice knowing that your parents were responsible for bringing so much joy to so many people."

Holly dips her head down and smiles in a way to affirm Harriet's accusation of nervousness. "Sorry," she tells her. Glad, at least to be off of the subject of Jesters... for now. She takes a deep breath to visibly relax herself, just in time for the food to be served.

She really is trying to not think of the extravagance of it all. This wasn't the first time she'd been to Ronaldo's, but it was certainly the first time she'd gotten this kind of VIP treatment. And Ronaldo's was already an expensive place to eat at, which is why, for her, she had never agreed to come when it was coming out of her own funds.

She tries not to think too much on that as she responds. "The only stress came from it closing down, though I think our lives are better for it. Not entirely, but its allowed me to move on from what would have been entertainment to a wholly more satisfying career," she explains, smiling again at Harriet for her part in all of that. "Though I know most of my family misses it. My father in particular. He was one of the more notable performers, a magician. When I say he likes to talk people's ears off, its usually about the glory days."

Harriet looks delighted. "A magician! How lovely." She spots Ronaldo coming over to the table and quiet whispers to you, "I don’t suppose he taught you how to make people disappear?"

"How is everything?" Ronaldo says through a smile that looks plastered onto his face.

"Great. As always. I’ll make sure to tell Mr. Key." Now it is Ronaldo’s turn to look delighted. He bows and then is on his way.

Harriet watches you closely during this whole exchange. You’re not sure if she once laid eyes on Ronaldo while he was here. "Truth be told, I do not have any issue with Ronaldo. His behavior is understandable but Mr. Key has never been a very big fan of those who grovel at his feet like he is a god simply because he has a talent for managing money. Mr. Key has no room for yes men or women in his service. He expects to hear the truth from his advisors, associates, friends, and family. Most others on Mr. Key’s level surround themselves with men and women like Ronaldo and they are made weaker for it.

"When meeting with a buyer or seller, take a keen interest in those people that they choose to surround themselves with. It will tell you everything you need to know about how to approach the deal. Do you have any questions?"

Holly smiles politely at Ronaldo as he comes over to talk to Harriet, but, as she suspected, he only had eyes for Mr. Key's associate. But she tries to remain unperturbed at his ignoring her, even when she spots Harriet watching her instead of the restaurateur.

When Harriet finally speaks to her, she feels a tension she didn't know was in her shoulders release. "That's a relief," she explains honestly. "Not agreeing with my boss on most things is one of the reasons the restoration department was moved to the basement with storage." The more Harriet told her of Mr. Key only made Holly more curious. He was wholly unlike the caricature of decadence she had built up in her mind of Crowfall's wealthy elite. He seemed more like a benevolent king, doing his best to remain humble and wise, and not let the power go to his head. Certainly a good person to be working for for someone who tries to oppose immorality whenever she can.

She nods in understanding at Harriet's lesson, glad to be given so practical a lesson. "About a million, I'm sure, but I'll let you know when they finally decide to let me ask them."

Harriet smiles and nods her head before moving on with her lesson. Unfortunately for you, this means a return to the subject of jesters.

"Bonsoir, par sainte Nitouche et saint Pansard, patrons de la folie, je demande à mourir de vieillesse.

"Triboulet, as all good jesters should be, was too clever for his own good. He was warned again and again not to ridicule the Queen. These orders were ignored one too many times and the King was forced to order Triboulet’s death to spare the Queen further humiliation. But King Francis still had a soft spot for the jester. As a reward for his years of service, the king offered Triboulet the chance to choose the way in which he would die. And Triboulet responded--"

Harriet pauses to give you a chance to translate the French words she spoke earlier. ‘Good sire, for Saint Nitouche’s and Saint Pansard’s sake, patrons of insanity, I choose to die from old age.’

"Today we will be meeting with someone who claims to be in possession of the genuine costume worn by Triboulet. Personally, I am expecting a costume worn by a performer in the 1832 production of ‘Le roi s’amuse’ in which Triboulet appears as a character. Either way, the piece is quite valuable. It will be my job to determine the authenticity of the object. I want you to evaluate the seller and determine the approach we should take when we make an offer to purchase the costume."

Holly, for all of her skills, does not speak French. She has, however, heard of the story of Triboulet. How could she not? The same Jester who slapped the king on his rear, and when confronted, was spared for his witty response of "Sorry, I thought you were the Queen!".

So she responds with what she knows, "-I choose to die from old age." and nods sagely.

She can't suppress the excitement building inside of her. At least Harriet didn't seem to be throwing jester facts at her to get her to slip up. No, she was actually testing her knowledge because they were tracking a lead today! She thought that this was just a lunch to discuss details for later.

Man, did this woman move fast.

"That sounds great. When do we start?"

"There is no time like the present." Harriet gets up from the table. "I must say, I could not be happier with my choice in protege. Don’t go letting that go to your head though."

On the way out Ronaldo thanks Harriet profusely. He asks when he can expect to see Mr. Key. Harriet only says, "Soon, darling. Real soon."

Harriet leads the way back to the sedan that brought her here and the chauffeur holds the door for you. On the way to the destination she gives you a quick rundown of the situation. You will be meeting with Robby Mertens. He is the son of Gilles Mertens; a highly respected diamond dealer from Belgium. Robby aspires to become a famous playwright. Thus far no one has performed his plays unless he was willing to fit the entire bill. "If you ask me, his obsession with Crowfall’s nightlife scene, and subsequent hangovers, make it rather hard for him to get any quality work done."

When you arrive, the doorman ushers you to the private elevator which opens directly into Robby’s apartment. A butler wearing a leopard skin vest greets you and walks you to the sunken living room where Robby is enjoying a glass of vodka and watching television next to a baby chimpanzee wearing a diaper.

"Harriet!" He jumps off the couch to greet her. Robby is dressed in a silk robe worn over pajamas. His sunglasses slip low enough on his nose to give you a glimpse of bloodshot eyes. "It is so good to see you again. And who is this we have here?" he turns to face you and takes your hand in both of his.

The chimp starts howling. "Mr. Muggs! Quiet! We have company," Robby shouts at the animal. The ape frowns and goes back to watching highlights of European football.

This guy sounds much more like the rich caricature that Holly expected. And her expectations of opulence are exceeded when meeting him. He didn't seem like someone who wanted to take life too seriously, which in itself wasn't too bad. What was was his apparent expectation that his money would make up for any lack of self-awareness or... dare she say, [i]taste/i].

But she wanted to keep an open mind. At least, on the outside.

Taking, or more accurately, accepting, Robby's gesture, she smiles pleasantly at him. She was thankful for her talent as an actress that she didn't make a face at the strong scent of alcohol and body-over, which was pungent enough to make her want to faint. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Mertens. Holly Morton. I'm an associate of Harriet's," she explains, hoping that Harriet will excuse her referring to herself as an associate, rather than an apprentice. It would make sense, given that this is a very specific piece, and its could be that Harriet would want an outside opinion on its authenticity. It also gave her a measure of power in the conversation, not being seen as the lesser of either of the other two.

Holly is able to fight off any adverse reactions or expressions from Robby's words until Harriet is able to get him moving. She allows herself a grimace and a slight shudder at the idea of marrying a man like that. She imagined that such a union would be only so that Robby could have another display piece to show off. She suppose she should be flattered at the dea, but it filled her with a slick, slimy feeling on the inside that made such musings short-lived.

Walking behind the others, she feelings like she's being watched. Casting her eyes about quickly to the only other person in the room, the butler, turns up nothing. The poor man is doing what he can to tidy up in the area that Robby had vacated while he had the chance, But that does bring her sight in line with the source of the feeling. The baby chimp, its almost human eyes peering at her with an unshakable gaze from over the top of the couch.

She stares back at it for a moment, unsure of exactly what to do. It did look a bit like a human baby, so she tried her usual tactic of smiling at it and giving a little wave to illicit a response. Nothing. Just a vacant stare. She didn't want the others getting too far ahead, so she used the excuse to quickly move away from the primate's unwavering attention.

She had to admit, the lights were a bit much. And the music was far too reminiscent of recent carnival fanfare to have any real historical value to the presentation. But given Harriet's reaction, and Robby's reaction to her reaction, he knew this. He was just having a bit of fun with it.

"About which part?" she replies flatly, trying to not shy away from Robby's incessant need to be right next to her.

Robby smiles and raises an eyebrow. "The whole package." Robby quickly raises a hand to the display case. "Have you ever seen anything so exquisite! I can only think of one other object I’ve laid eyes upon that even compares." He gives you a wink.

Harriet puts a hand on Robby’s shoulder to get his attention. "When we spoke on the phone you mentioned the play you were working on. I’d love to hear any new lines you have written." Robby’s smile grows even wider. He brings his hands together and bows before rapidly retreating from the room to find his manuscript. Harriet waves you over.

"I am truly sorry. I did not anticipate his behavior and would not have brought you along if I knew he would be such a lecher." She continues to walk around the display case as she examines the object. "This certainly isn’t 500 years old. The jury is still out on whether it is from ‘Le roi s’amuse’ or not. The craftmanship matches 19th century work but I’ll have to do some more digging. Either way it is best if we obtain the costume now before he realizes what he may have on his hands."

Harriet turns away from the costume and walks up to you. "I’m prepared to offer him $5,000. A sharp discount from the 500k he was interested in for the genuine article, and a steal if it is indeed from the play. But he doesn’t even know that is a possibility. Are you ready to make the pitch?"

---

A minute later Robby returns. In one hand he holds a loose pile of papers which must be his masterpiece. The other hand is grasped around the hand of Mr. Muggs. The chimp sticks it tongue out at you as he enters the room.

Holly chuckles incredulously at Harriet's apology. "It's fine," she tells her, "He's not the first man to treat me like an object, but I will say he is the first to lay it out so plainly."

She approaches the display to look more closely as well, glad for a moment to actually appraise the artifact and not be forced to gently deflect Robby's advances.

She does, however, feel her stomach drop at the prices Harriet is flinging around. She had certainly dealt with the restoration of artifacts worth quite a bit more than that, but she had never been the one signing the checks that give them that value. She tries to suppress that sinking feeling, by letting out a low whistle. "I'll try my best..."

---

She's feeling a bit nervous as Robby returns, though she does a good job of not showing it. She's doing everything she can to put on the airs of a woman of business who has no problem settling prices far above a few thousand dollars.

She continues looking at the costume for a few moments, seemingly admiring it, but turns to smile at Robby, trying her best to ignore the surly primate. "Mr. Mertens, I have some good news and some bad news," she begins.

"Firstly, this costume is not the one worn by Triboulet. However, I can attest to its craftsmanship. It is a close to the genuine article as I think one could get it, and regardless of its lack of authenticity, I am sure a cultured man such as yourself can appreciate the artistry that went into its creation." She does her best to lay the flattery on thick. Not a tactic she thinks a woman in her position would take, but Robby seemed very sure of himself in that regard.

"Unfortunately, with it not being a true Triboulet costume, I'm afraid we cannot offer you the full five-hundred thousand that was discussed previously." She folds her hands delicately in front of her as she says this. This would likely be the hardest part of the pitch, and suddenly she calls to mind a memory of shopping for her older brother's car with him and her father. Her father was adamant that you never started with the price you wanted to pay. Always lower, and cut the deal if you couldn't settle on your max.

"We are, however, prepared to offer you three and a half thousand dollars for the costume. We are certain that there are still those in the industry that would love to have it as a display piece. Entertainment halls and museums... theaters."

Robby’s smile droops further with each word that you speak. Mr. Muggs sees the sad expression on his owner’s face and mimics it. "It’s not the real thing?" He takes off his sunglasses and runs a hand across his sweaty brow. "That’s really disappointing. I’ve been telling everyone about this."

He walks up to the glasses and presses his hand against it. His head falls in defeat. Mr. Muggs reaches up and pats the small of his back. Robby seems much more hurt by the lack of authenticity than by the lower value of the item.

"Would Avery still be interested in making it part of the planned exhibit?"

Harriet steps up. "This piece still demonstrates the attire Triboulet wore. The average museum guest won’t know the difference. Of course we will want to use it."

Robby nods his head and stops sulking a little bit. "Perhaps I will make it a donation then? Maybe you could put my name on a plague? Generously donated by playwright Robby Mertens."

"I believe something like that can be arranged, Robby."

"Splendid. I will suggest that you get it dry cleaned... Mr. Muggs insisted on trying it on." Harriet, normally very much in control of her demeanor, cannot help but looked shocked for just a moment.

Harriet makes arrangements to have the item picked up and brought to the museum and then the two of you return to the car. "Well that could have gone worse. I sincerely hope he was joking about letting the monkey wear it, but at least we have the last item needed for the exhibit.

"Have I told you about it, dear? I’ll actually be spending some time at the museum setting it all up. A tribute to some of the finest jesters of the late middle ages. Avery has collected and donated pieces from Triboulet, Archibald Armstrong, and Jane Foole. I cannot wait until we get it up and open to the public."

Holly is frankly stunned at the exchange. She had done her best to make it seem as though Robby still had a useful piece on his hands, had offered a slightly lower amount that Harriet suggested to try and negotiate the price, and had even complimented Mr. Mertens on his taste to try and make him more agreeable... and then this happens. She had to admit, Harriet sure knew how to pick lessons for her protégé if her goal was to subvert expectations.

She does her best not to go slack-jawed at Robby just giving them the suit, or at the mention of some sort of exhibit that she seemed the only one to not know about. She just proceeds in silence as the transaction is made and details are arranged, continuing to smile politely to not let on just how thrown off she is by the exchange.

Until they get to the car. "I hope so too. Frankly, I don't think the monkey liked me all that much," she says, laughing lightly to relieve the tension.

"And I'm afraid that detail hadn't come up yet." She sits for a moment in the car, still put off by the whole scenario. Looking over to Harriet, she asks, "Did I miss something? Misread a cue, or some small detail during the negotiation?"

Harriet seems puzzled. "Not at all, dear. You performed quite well. Robby Mertens is a man child that craves adoration and attention. The man owns an ape, for goodness sake.

"You played to his ego well and made it sound like he might actually fit in with the artistic crowd he so desperately wants to be a part of. When you delivered the offer, it was made perfectly clear that he had an interesting find, but hardly a conversation piece, and thus had no reason to hold onto it any longer.

"Robby spent more money on the theatrical lighting in that room than the $3,500 offer. Lowballing him like that, on top of having a less than extraordinary item, made a plaque with his name on it the best possible outcome for him. In Robby's head, he thinks he just purchased a ticket into high society. He’ll be waiting by the phone for a call from Avery Key inviting him to exhibit opening. After that he probably expects to be side by side with him at every gala and fashion show that comes to town."

She smirks. "Was none of this taken into consideration when you developed your approach? Don’t tell me you simply lucked into making the right moves. In all seriousness, don’t tell me. Take credit for all your successes, no matter how you come by them."