Gameplay

Joe Turner stood nervously in the hallway as the landlord opened the door. Wearing a white shirt with a loose brown tie, suspenders and brown pants with plain worn business shoes. Usually he had a business jacket to match the pants, but today he had the sleeves rolled up on his shirt and apparently had left his jacket in his room. He'd already adjusted his tie, glasses, and shirt sleeves a few times as he fidgeted waiting for the door to be unlocked.

"Hope James is fine... we were supposed to meet and he is usually quite dependable." he adjusted his glasses again.

A man in his early thirties, you know he runs a few businesses, which like nearly everything in the city have run into some hard times. Still, he has work, which is better than most can say. He leaves every day to go to work and comes home late, does not talk much about what he does but he is pleasant and a quiet neighbor.

Rita has the key of Mr Gardiner in her hand.
In her mind she repeats "Please be ok... please be ok..." but having to open the apartment of one of the tenants is never (or nearly never) for a good reason.
James has not been seen for two days and it is the moment to know whether they should call the police or not...
"Please be ok... please be ok..." Rita keeps saying to herself

In trembling voice Rita says loudly
"Please, be calm everyone... I will open the door, and then we will call him again. Then I will enter. If someone of you volunteer I will thank some company in case .... in case... well... the rest of you, please, wait here until we come out. Perhaps James just wants some time to be alone... quietly... "

Rita breathes, tries to calm herself... knocks again the door with hope... and finding no response, uses the key to open the door.

Once it is opened she adds with trembling voice

"Mr Gardiner? Are you Ok? We are worried... we are entering you apartment ..."

Martin Bauer is practically vibrating with curiosity about what happened to Mr. Gardiner. In the almost two years that man has lived here, Martin hasn't managed to learn anything about him save for his name. What does he do for a living? Why does he hardly leave his room, and why does he spend his nights reciting what sounds like complete nonsense? Is it some kind of poetry? Or maybe he's speaking in tongues? He doesn't know James at all, and for someone who knows most of the people here better than he knows his own daughters, that's deeply frustrating.

Martin is a tall, fairly well-built Austrian man in his fifties with greying brown hair and a full beard. His clothes - a woollen vest, a plain white shirt, simple trousers and boots - give off the impression of having seen better days, as does the man himself. He's lost some of his accent as he's been living in America for over forty years, but he's still obviously not American. Most people know him as the widower who seems overly interested in other people's lives, though Martin of course thinks he shows a perfectly reasonable amount of interest.

"I'm right here by your side, ma'am. I'll accompany you inside, just in case." Bruno tips his hat and gives a little smile to Rita. His voice is steady, compared to the tension otherwise suffusing the hallway he almost seems a little blasé about it all.

Maybe this Gardiner bloke has flown the coop. Or maybe he's still in there... The thought of stumbling across a dead body wasn't exactly appealing, but it wouldn't be the first time seeing one. And it's not like Bruno's got much of a choice right now. When life puts you behind the eight-ball, you gotta find your own way out.

Between his chiseled jaw and piercing dark eyes, Bruno's rugged good looks wouldn't be out of place in a silent movie along the likes of George O'Brien or Rudolph Valentino. But his clothes tell a different story. The hat and overcoat has been patched and repaired repeatedly, his dark brown pants and waistcoat are fraying at the edges. The clock he wears has stopped at 6:45, who knows how long ago.

He's a familiar face to most everyone at the boarding house, though it's hard to find anyone who would call him a friend. Whenever he does speak, it's clear he's working hard to keep his Lithuanian accent from creeping through, though he usually fails.

Rita nods and smiles nervously to Bruno. She is happy he is the one that volunteered. Not that she knows much about him but... he seems the kind of guy to have at your side when things go bad. A tiny tear is almost leaving her dark eyes, but she manages to keep it in place. She is the Landlady!

Rita is in her late thirties. Her hair is slighly combed and cut not long and not short, just... in between. Her dress is clean and very well ironed, but is not new. Her plain shoes have seen better times too. Noone in the building knows (she hopes), but all her clothes are second hand. Being a widow with a 10 year old kid to feed and dress (Johnny) is not easy... Luckily, working at Ma Shanks’ Boarding House as a landlady provides her with a small apartment to live and some money. Not much, but enough.

She is worried for James. It is one of the few tenants that gives her conversation... She really hopes he is ok...

"Goodness, you all. I've known Mr. Gardiner quite a while and he is most certainly not one to run off for no good reason. I am sure that someone as interesting as my colleague is certainly bound to come back."

There, beneath that book shop owner's almond-shaped eyes, did doubt lay bare in her soul. Lori Hurley stood close, black heels planted into the wood paneling underneath, arms crossed over a black and white dress that spoke both conservative stuck-up bookkeeper up high, and knee-showing flapper down low. Pale, slim, in the last vestiges of her twenties...

"At least, I have my hopes he is. I've never pegged Mr. Gardiner for a dastardly man to run off with such an important book of my collection. I need The Dreamers' Dictionary back or, God forbid, I might not have my Book Shop open any longer."

—And oh so hurting for money. She always had been, the residents around her knew her book shop of rare arcane tomes and obscure literature was a sinkhole of money from the small talk she'd have with others. At first, it was a dream to have opened a business like this, and now she depended entirely upon Mr. Gardiner's appearance to keep her dream in reality.

Martin recoils as if shielding himself from a blow. "Mein Gott!"

"Šūdas!" Whatever Bruno had been expecting, it wasn't... this.

Joe glanced in and immediately regretted it, feeling his stomach lurch, he turned toward the wall covering his mouth quickly. He took a few deep breaths to regain his composure and keep his last meal in place. He did not trust himself to speak just yet.

Rita stares at the scene... quietly.... his eyes fixed in the body.
It is not the first dead she sees. It reminds herself somehow of her dead husband.

The other tenants don't wait and enter too. She looks at them pondering whether it could have been one of them...

"Whoever did this shall pay for it.... We... I must call the police..." she says coldly
"You must all leave the apartment..."

Tommy, Rita's son, stands at the top of the stairs watching. He calls down,

"Mama, what is it? Is Mr Gardiner ok?"

"M-Mister... Gardiner?"

The ghastly sight had her hand riveting onto the door frame to hold that quaking fear deep down, even as it boiled over into her general mannerisms. An early breakfast rumbled, stuck into the back of her throat, waiting to celebrate that new stench of death. Pungent, the kind of pungent that sticks around for the next day as death clung to the living.

"W...we were just talking just a few days ago about dreams and Ancient Greek a-and I... I..."
She stood statuesque, petrified into a barely held together dignity that could shatter at whatever worse revelations came next. She wanted to step in, get a closer look as if looking would revive, yet her black Mary Janes wouldn't rise.

Focus.

His hands are shaking, and he can't tear his eyes away from the macabre scene. He'd thought... not sure what he had thought. Maybe a robbery gone wrong, or the man had just gotten tired and put a gun to his temple. But this was savage. What kind of person could do something like this?

Focus, dammit!

Right, time's of the essence. With a scene like this, the fuzz will be all over the place. If he's gonna get anything useful here, he better move quickly.

Lori gives him an opening. As he makes his way inside the room, he makes a wide circle to avoid getting too close to the body. Seems sensible. "He didn't say anything strange when you spoke? Didn't seem worried or afraid or nothing?" While speaking he lets his eyes drift over the room. Gotta be something worth something in here, right?

Rita turns to Tommy
"Thomas Nathanael Delacroix! What are you doing in here! Mum is working.
Go back to your room, close the door and do your prayers! Now!"

Then she turns to the tenants and she tries to be with them as firm as she was with Tommy without much success "Please... this is a murder scene... we must go and call the police!"

It is the first time she has been in this apartment since Mr. Gardiner rented it. Somehow she tries to look for pictures of him... alone or with someone.
´
Is there something that calls Rita's attention as different from how the apartment should look like? The presence of absence or some furniture, something out of place?