#daniel dalgliesh

[fragilebrit]

Dalgliesh and Tarrant's dynamic in the opening story of Series 3 is interesting. I might just have my shipping goggles on, but a lot of potential there. I'll have to write it myself though (which I'm not sure I'm up to tbh) because I doubt anyone else will.

[jaybeefoxy]

Another Dalgliesh fanfic is out there.

I have published my latest, my take on AD being asexual, and both Kate and Daniel being in love with the man. This is very hurt/comfort, and very whump on poor Adam. PD James doesn't hold back with what she does to her hero, considering he's been hospitalised in the books more than once. He's been shot, suffered mononucleosis and thought he was dying from leukaemia, been concussed and had stitches for a head injury (with no anaesthetic), caught SARS and been bereaved three times (his wife, his aunt and a friend). So the poor man needs a break, but this is giving him another aspect of his nature which I hope I have gotten right.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63255943/chapters/162028780

[leupagus]

Three-Legged Puppy Fics

List five of your least-popular fics, as well as when/why you wrote them.

Home to the Weary: Merlin, Gwen/Morgana, 2010.

I wrote this at the request of a friend who wanted, I think, something Gwen-centric. Because I was not a fan of the show I decided to focus on an AU in which Gwen backflipped out of that whole situation and founded her own sort of kingdom, only meeting the terrible trio years later. It was really fun and was the first time I'd ever tried writing a fic that hinted at a larger world going on around the characters, if that makes sense. This one's a little pretentious but you can definitely see my "style" as it were.

Treads on the Ground: Babylon (not the sci-fi show, the short-lived british cop show), Liz Garvey/Finn Kirkwood, 2022.

This was written during my Bertie Carvel phase where I'd watched "Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell" and was desperate for something, anything, that didn't have him wearing terrible prosthetics or playing a psycho. He still sort of plays a psycho in this show, but he looks super hot and angry all the time which is really all I needed. (Also bonus hilarity: Liz's boyfriend in this show is played by none other than James Lance, playing "louche asshole" to the absolute hilt.) Anyway I wrote this because I really wanted a fake dating AU for these two AND a "Finn is secretly in line to the throne" fic and this was the perfect way to combine these two. I'm still legitimately really proud of thsi fic.

The Bright Relief: 1776 musical, John Adams & Thomas Jefferson (and a little bit of / in there, if I'm honest), 2010.

I wrote this because my friends waldorph and screamlet and I were having the Summer of 1776 Feelings and we all wrote various (wonderful) crimes and misdemeanors in that fandom, mostly revolving all the ways in people who love John Adams make fun of him. That was a truly terrible summer but made a whole lot better by those two, and by William Daniels being the most John Adams to ever John Adams. (I actually rewatched the miniseries a few months ago and Paul Giamatti does a great job but that thing is SO DREARY. Although I will say Stephen Dillane first caught my eye in the role of TJeff, aka once again playing a guy who's down real bad for someone smarter than him (in this case both Abigail AND John). The scene where he first meets Abigail is just nonstop flirting, with John making faces in the background. It's great.)

Happy Tails To You (Until We Meet Again): SGA, Rodney McKay/John Sheppard, 2009.

Oh lordy — probably the worst fic I've ever written, but I can't quite bring myself to delete it. I've been on the periphery of fandom for most of my adult life (what up X-Files yahoo groups and Prodigy Star Trek RP rooms), but SGA was what made me start thinking of writing fic after a long period of only reading it. (Yes, there is college-era gus fic out there. No, I'm not posting it on AO3.) I never quite got a handle on Sheppard or McKay but I did enjoy writing this and the other SGA fic I wrote, but yeah this deserves its obscurity.

Honey Now I'm Not One To Complain: Dalgliesh, Adam Dalgliesh/Kate Miskin, 2022.

Another one of my "Bertie Carvel is extremely attractive when he's sad and/or a cop" flash-fandoms, although I wrote a pretty good primer on the first season that I think gives a good case for the show as a whole. I wanted to write that largely because the show is so resolutely grim and I prefer stories that are... not grim, so I gave myself the challenge of putting these guys into one of the classic tropes. I did toy with the fake dating/marriage trope but honestly I think this was funnier, and I would always rather commit to the bit.

Tagging uhhh let's see, @laiqualaurelote, @themardia, @sadcypress, @auntieclimactic, and @eyebrowofdoom, if they (or anyone else) wants to do this.

[blogger360ncislarules]

BritBox has settled in for the holidays with several "Festive Specials" (as they're called in the U.K.) populating the calendar for the back half of the month. The specials will begin arriving on December 17, 2024, starting with the new Sister Boniface Mysteries Christmas episode. However, the season's highlight will come at Christmas and after, as Beyond Paradise and Death in Paradise debut their Christmas specials. Of the two, BritBox got first dibs with Beyond Paradise, which will stream its one-hour special edition in the U.S. on Christmas Day and then follow on the BBC on Friday, December 27. Death in Paradise will start on the BBC, arriving on Sunday, December 22, and then debuting on BritBox in the U.S. on December 27. Death in Paradise has the more significant plot development, as the series' fifth lead detective will be introduced in the special, but Beyond Paradise looks like the more interesting mystery.

However, star Kris Marshall might not remember the plot details. When asked about the 2024 special, he admitted that the show is so ahead currently that they'd just finished filming next year's holiday installment, Beyond Paradise's Festive Special for 2025. (He then realized his error, "I may have dropped a spoiler that I’m not supposed to." Welp.) However, that reveal also bodes well for a fourth-season renewal since these specials tend to be the first episode of the new season (just separated off by a few weeks).

The first images for the special are now out, and Marshall will definitely have his hands full for the holiday.

Kris Marshall as DI Humphrey and Sally Bretton as Martha Lloyd in 'Beyond Paradise' 

Here's the Christmas Special synopsis:

When a widower starts seeing the ghost of his late wife, DI Humphrey Goodman and the team are called in to investigate. DS Esther Williams is deeply skeptical, but Humphrey is more than happy to dive into his first haunting. It's Christmas, after all, and who doesn’t like a festive ghost story?

The special stars Kris Marshall as DI Humphrey Goodman, Sally Bretton as Martha Lloyd, Isaac Vincent-Norgate as their new foster son, Ryan, and Barbara Flynn as Martha's mum Anne Lloyd. Despite threats to the station, it also seems very likely the core ensemble of mystery solvers will also return with Zahra Ahmadi as DS Esther Williams, Melina Sinadinou as her daughter, Zoe Williams, Felicity Montagu as Margo Martins, Dylan Llewellyn as PC Kelby Hartford and Jade Harrison as big boss CS Charlie Woods.

Guest stars for this year's one-hour episode include Amalia Vitale (Big Mood), Mark Heap (The Completely Made-Up Adventures of Dick Turpin), Tamla Kari (The Ipcress File), Chizzy Akudolu (Criminal Record), Austin Taylor (Doc Martin), Simon Nagra (D.I. Ray), Rosalind Adler (The Nevers), Sami Amber (Dalgliesh), and Seann Walsh (Bad Move).

Ian Jarvis penned the episode, Sandy Johnson directed it, and Lindsay Hughes produced it. Series creator Tony Jordan executive produced with Tim Key and Belinda Campbell for Red Planet Pictures, Danielle Scott-Haughton for the BBC, and Stephen Nye and Robert Schildhouse for BritBox International. 

[fortressofserenity]

Something to expound on 'Finding Adam'

Admittedly some of this came later, but to say this Emma Lavenham has been cheating on Adam Dalgliesh ever since Mick was a little boy (a late toddler at best), when he left her for booze at pubs. Add to that this is when Emma started having frequent affairs with not only any man she finds (this includes her students, colleagues and strangers), but also affairs with footballers and bodybuilders, much to Mick's distaste, despite keeping him from being with his friends for long.

To the point where Mick has to stand in for his father to keep his mother preoccupied, given his disdain for her affairs with any man she finds. Supposing if Adam Dalgliesh retired but the fact that he's often drunk and away from his family, that this puts them in a financially precarious situation whenever he got hospitalised. So both Emma and Mick were at the mercy of her lovers' salaries and income, just so they could help Adam recover, despite frequently relapsing into alcoholism every now and then and also raise the latter.

Now as for Danielle Mercer's parents, let's say that Steve is a lawyer and Janet is a dressmaker. So they earn comfortably enough to not only support her education, but also each other and also Mick whenever he hangs out at their house. But Emma often undermines this, so she'd take him back whenever he does get the chance to live at hers for a while. Similar things can be said of Abe Haskins, where we could say that his father is a salesman and his mother is a veterinarian, but they're always together as with Steve and Janet.

So Mick is in a bad situation where one parent frequently leaves the house for the bar and the other parent cheats on him with any man she sleeps with, that if he were to find the family he always wanted he'd stay in his friends' houses. But even then that's not for long because Emma will always get him back, so he has to both stand in for Adam and get put up with his affairs out of necessity.

[demurely1]

Drama Log 2023

This log is constructed according to ABF rules: I’ve recorded tv or film dramas viewed from Jan to Dec 2023 and graced by AB or one of his previous co-actors…. or some degree of separation ….  or not….

Father Brown (10) Claudie Blakley, Aidan McArdle

His Dark Materials (3) Ruth Wilson, Will Keen, Andrew Scott, Victoria Hamilton

Our Flag Means Death Joel Fry, Rory Kinnear

Vera Patricia Potter

Mystery Road: Origin

The Rig

Better Anton Lesser

Carnival Row (2)

The Cleaner (2) Mark Lewis Jones 

Great Expectations Olivia Colman 

Magpie Murders Lesley Manville, Daniel Mays, Harry Lawtey

Dalgliesh Sam Hoare, Deborah Findley

Maryland Eve Best 

Steeltown Murders Matthew Gravelle, Steve Nicolson

Annika Paul McGann 

The Gallows Pole    Samuel Edward-Cook

The Woman in the Wall Ruth Wilson

The Following Events are Based on a Pack of Lies Marianne Jean-Baptiste, Alistair Petrie, Romola Garai

All Creatures Great and Small (4) Sam West, Anna Madeley, Paul Hilton

Cobra: Rebellion Robert Carlisle, Victoria Hamilton, Marsha Thomason, Lucy Cohu

Boat Story Daisy Haggard, Paterson Joseph, Kate Dickie

Shetland (8) 

Vigil (2) Romola Garai, Amir El-Masry, Rose Leslie

Murder is Easy David Jonsson, Mathew Baynton, Tamzin Outhwaite

[incorrectstormandsilencequotes]

Dalgliesh: [screams]

Rikkard: [screams louder to assert dominance]

Lilly: Should we...stop them?

Karim: Naw, I wanna see who wins.

[dickstailcoat]

@rikkardambrose​ asking @dogleashed​ to bone him. 

[dogleashed]

I was born to vex

Tie on my neck

I like boardin' ships, I like mornin' sex

But nothing in this world that I like more than checks

All I really wanna see is the

Money

- Ambrose's hype music every morning before he brushes his teeth

[storms-ships-and-ifrits]

SNS CHRISTMAS AESTHETICS:

LORD DALGLIESH

‘Oh, I couldn't stay away.'

A broad smile spread over His Lordship's face. The kind of smile unfortunate swimmers in southern waters might see, topped with a grey fin and rapidly approaching. His eyes wandered over the assembled Ambrose family.

'I had heard that the son of the house had returned to the fold. How could I miss such a unique event?'

[lambroseforlife]

writing prompt: one shot of Lilly and Ambrose solving a murder where she figures out who the murderer is before he does

Wow, my apologies for how late this is. This prompt took some planning and research. Not to mention, I also had exams and applications to finish while being sick all at the same time. Anyway, here you go! This is a detective AU that takes place sometime around the mid-20th century (~1940s-50s). This is a pretty LONG read compared to my previous works so I decided to split this prompt into two parts.

Many people seem to be pissed with the ending of HfS so feel free to read this as a pick-me-up for your mood. This oneshot isn’t too terrible, I promise.

— — —

Riiiiiiiing. Riiiiiiiing.

“Hello, this is Empire Investigations. How may we be of service? ….Yes …Yes ….Of course. Why definitely, right away.” Click.

Knock. Knock. 

“Mr Ambrose?”

“What is it, Miss Linton?”

“It’s a call from the police station. They said a new civilian case came in. One that they want our help for.”

“We are currently busy. Did you complete the report for the last case?”

“Yes I did, sir. They said that this new case involved a murder.”

Silence.

“They also said that the client would be willing to pay double for any third-party investigators involved. Provided that the culprit is found.”

The sound of footsteps echoed throughout the cramped office and a moment later, a door opened.

“Well, what are you waiting for, Miss Linton? Let’s go! We have no time to waste.”

— — —

New Scotland Yard was in a state that could best be described as utter clamour. Once the two detectives were granted access inside the North building, they were met with an all too familiar sight for a typical evening at the compound. Phones rang persistently, multiple conversations overlapped over one another and uniformed officers bustled throughout the vicinity.

“Mr Ambrose, Miss Linton.” The front desk receptionist greeted, her auburn curls bouncing as she nodded to them both. “Inspector Dalgliesh has been expecting you both. He’s waiting in his office.”

They proceeded several floors above to the directed location and stood outside the glass-panelled door. Miss Linton paused, about to knock before entering when her boss opened the door and marched in without preamble. She blinked before following.

“Ah, welcome. I trust that my message was delivered then?” The blond, uniformed officer looked up from the pile of papers on his desk at them both, steel-blue eyes twinkling in amusement.

“Effectively.” Mr Ambrose glanced pointedly at the young woman standing next to him.

The Inspector’s eyes followed his and a radiant smile appeared. “Miss Linton! How lovely it is to see you again.”

“Cut the pleasantries, Dalgliesh.” Mr Ambrose all but growled. “What case is so difficult that you had to resort to hiring outside detectives with persuasion of monetary incentives?”

“Incentives that seemed to work nonetheless. And that’s Inspector Dalgliesh to you, my old friend.” All amusement vanished and his tone instantly took on a serious edge.

“No less than a few hours ago, close to seven o’clock, a Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald was found dead in room forty-five on the third floor of a hotel called The Sleeping Siren. Her husband had received a note to meet her there and when he did, he discovered her bloody corpse sprawled across the bed.”

Reaching into a file laid out in front of him, he pulled out some papers and set it down on the edge of the table for them. Upon closer inspection, Miss Linton realised that they were photographs. They were of grainy and somewhat faded quality but surprisingly they were in colour, unlike typical black-and-white ones. Taken from various angles, they clearly showed a young woman lying on a patterned bedspread. Her doe-shaped eyes were bugged out and delicate mouth ajar, a telltale sign that her last moments were spent in horrified shock. Her pointed chin and angular jaw were marred with angry red blisters, the same shade as her rouge-painted lips— but it was her slender neck that was grotesquely disfigured. The remaining skin at her throat was mottled purple, bloodied and torn, ripped apart as if it were frantically clawed at. As a result, bone and tissue underneath was also exposed, revealed for all to see.

In response, Miss Linton’s gaze automatically trailed down to the corpse’s hands which, sure enough, were clad in leather gloves that appeared to be coated with blood at the fingertips. Speckles of blood were on the victim’s tailored white princess-cut coat that looked rather expensive. Black tweed pants peeked out from under the hem and trailed down to meet a pair of shiny, suede flats.

Miss Linton snuck a sidewards glance at her employer who was still studying the pictures, his blank expression betraying no emotion. She looked up to the see the Inspector staring at them both, his hawk-like gaze intense.

“Naturally, he reacted as any other devoted husband would. Or so from what the hotel staff informed us. He bolted from the room, yelling for help. A staff member heard and upon seeing Mrs Fitzgerald’s body, immediately had someone call us. It caused quite the ruckus and in addition, Mr Fitzgerald’s gardener, Edgar Stone, was also discovered to be present near the scene. From what we have been able to find out so far, he was also inside the hotel for an unknown reason. He is currently being detained there for questioning.”

He paused and Miss Linton jumped in. “If the police is already involved, then why were we also called here too?”

He met her gaze levelly. “I was getting to that, Miss Linton. Mr Fitzgerald is convinced that his gardener was involved some way in all of this. Adamantly insists that he is the culprit, actually. But that doesn’t eliminate him as a suspect either. Nonetheless, Mr Fitzgerald is quite the wealthy man and demanded for additional investigators to be assigned to the case. Promised that he would compensate warmly for the effort given that the true culprit is proven guilty.”

He looked down as he began to rearrange his papers. Folding his hands together, he returned his attention to the two individuals in front of him.  “And that’s where you both come in. Your agency has a singular reputation with its track record and experience in solving cases.” His gaze lingered on the tall man, steel blue eyes drilling into sea-coloured ones. “Your presence here confirms that you have chosen to accept the case, but I need verbal agreement as well. Are you two up for this?”

“Yes.” Mr Ambrose and Miss Linton firmly stated at the same time.

“Good. Then let’s go to the crime scene.”

— — —

Despite Miss Linton’s prior experiences on dealing with a few murder cases, the goosebumps that settled in her skin upon registering the smell of death was an instinctual reaction that somehow still refused to diminish with time.

Room forty-five of The Sleeping Siren was left in a state of shambles. It appeared that the place had been torn asunder, as if a miniature storm had paid a visit. A few framed paintings were thrown about on the dusty hotel carpet, joined by clusters of glass shards from what formerly appeared to be a vase— evidenced by the paraffin-coated wax comprising the scattered bouquet of fake flowers.

A plastic sheet covered the former Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald while uniformed members of the forensic investigative team flitted about the room, each dedicated to their own assigned tasks. Miss Linton stepped forward, about to lift the covering over the corpse when one of the officers spoke up.

“Miss, we request that you refrain from touching anything at the moment. We are still gathering evidence and need minimal contact as possible.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She looked around to see that the other members were all wearing rubber gloves. She noticed that some appeared to be collecting samples while others were dusting a powdered substance over different surfaces.

“That’s for finding fingerprints, right?” Miss Linton asked Mr Ambrose, indicating with her chin.

“Yes.” He answered. He turned to Inspector Dalgliesh, who was next to him. “There’s no point in standing around here waiting for them to finish.Take us to the key witnesses.”

“Valid point.” He led them out of the room. “With whom do you wish to speak to first?”

Ten minutes later, Miss Linton and Mr Ambrose were seated in the staff break room located on the ground floor— used as a makeshift interrogation room for the time being. In front of them sat a small, balding man with a round face. Miss Linton suspected that he was the type to usually maintain a cheerful disposition save for the current occasion. He was quivering as he blew his nose loudly into a crumpled handkerchief.

“W-What may I do for you?” His big eyes shone with tears.

“I am Mr Ambrose and this is Miss Linton. A ‘Morton Fitzgerald ’ requested for additional investigators to be assigned to the case regarding the death of Caroline Fitzgerald. I’m guessing that is you?” Mr Ambrose’s eyes bored into the smaller man sitting across the wobbly wooden table.

“Y-Yes?” Mr Fitzgerald’s eyes began to shine with fear as they darted back and forth between the two people facing him.

Miss Linton decided to interject, clearing her throat. “Mr Fitzgerald, we are the extra investigators that you asked for. We just wanted to ask you a few questions. I know that a lot has happened here tonight and we are as intent as you seem to be on finding your wife’s killer. Why don’t you tell us about what happened here tonight from your perspective?”

He seemed to relax slightly at Miss Linton’s gentle tone. Sighing, he clasped his hands together. “Well, this afternoon when I was on my lunch break, I was surprised to see that Caroline had left a note for me in my lunchbox asking me to meet her here after work.”

“Do you still have the note?” Mr Ambrose interrupted him.

The short man looked at him warily. “I did but the officers took it with them when they questioned me earlier.”

“Very well then. Continue.”

“To be more specific, the note had told me to meet her in this hotel in room forty-five at seven pm with no other explanation given. I was surprised that she wanted to meet outside in some random, cheap hotel given her recent state.”

“Her recent state? What do you mean by that?” Miss Linton asked him.

“Since last week, she had caught a cold. Her health has always been rather delicate and from the winter air, she’s had a recurring fever.”

“Was she behaving strangely prior to today? Any odd behaviours?” She pressed.

“None that I could think of.” His lips turned downwards.

Miss Linton was busy writing down her notes when she thought of another question. “This is more of a personal question but what was your marriage with your wife like?”

“An amazing one. We met two years ago and I was immediately smitten from the first time I saw her. I proposed marriage to her a few weeks later on a whim expecting rejection. Imagine my surprise when she accepted it. I’ve been a lucky man to marry the woman of my dreams only to see her taken away from me today.” Tears slid out of his closed eyes.

“We’ve sidetracked from the main question.” Mr Ambrose deadpanned, side-eyeing Miss Linton. “What happened after you saw the note?”

“I put it in my trouser pocket and went back to work as usual. When work finished at six, I went home to drop off my things and sure enough, Caroline was not there. I found a cabbie that knew where this hotel was since I had never heard of it. The driver dropped me off in front of the entrance and I headed inside. I asked the receptionist for directions and then took the lift to the third level. I found room forty-five immediately and knocked on the door. There was no response so I knocked again and called out Caroline’s name. Still no response. I checked my watch to make sure I was on time and it was seven o’clock on the dot. So then I decided to open the door only to witness the worst sight of my life. My beloved wife lying dead on the hotel bed.”

He blew his nose again as he sobbed. After a minute he calmed down enough to speak again.

“Naturally after I had registered what happened, I ran from the room yelling for help. A cleaning maid nearby heard me and when she entered the room, she ran out immediately and called the receptionist. He came up shortly, saw Caroline, and called the manager to dial the police.”

The two detectives listened with apt diligence, multitasking as they continued to jot down notes. Miss Linton decided to press for more details.

“Apparently your gardener, Mr Edgar Stone, was found here too? What can you tell me about that?”

Mr Fitzgerald’s face instantly morphed into one of anger when he heard the name.

“That—! That no-good, lowdown scum! I’m telling you, he’s behind it all! He must have murdered my Caroline! Who else could it have been?”

“Did you see it happen?” Mr Ambrose asked him.

“What?”

“Your claim that your gardener murdered your wife. Did you see it happen?”

“Well no, but—”

“Then how can you say that without definite proof?”

Bold red splotches appeared on Mr Fitzgerald’s already ruddy cheeks. “Now see here, Mr Ambrose. It’s under my demand that you’re even here in the first place. Without my say, you won’t even get the money that I’m offering if you can’t find the murderer.”

Mr Ambrose opened his mouth to retort when his employee jumped in.

“We are grateful for your graciousness, Mr Fitzgerald. We really are.” Miss Linton threw a warning glare at the man sitting next to her. “That reminds me of another question I had. Considering your eager willingness to give a generous reward, I’m assuming that you have a well-paying job. Where do you work?”

“Not as well-paying as I would like, Miss Linton.” He sighed dismissively. “I merely work as a salesman for an insurance company. However, I’m lucky that I’m an only child. My father was a wealthy man and when he passed away, most of his assets went directly to me, including his estate.”

“I see.” Miss Linton scribbled more notes. “That will be all the questions from my end. Do you have any more for Mr Fitzgerald, Mr Ambrose?”

Silence.

“Alright, then that concludes our time together. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Fitzgerald. I assure you we will do our best to find the culprit.”

— — —

“Let’s go back to the crime scene. The forensics team should be almost done about now.”

True enough to Mr Ambrose’s words, they were. They appeared to be gathering bags to collect items.

“Wait,” he told them. “Miss Linton and I wish to investigate the room.”

“But we’re almost done,” a man Miss Linton assumed as the leader of the team protested. “We can’t afford any delays in analysis.”

Mr Ambrose gave him a look.

“Well on second thought, I suppose that it would help to have more pairs of investigative eyes.”

Mr Ambrose ignored him. “We need gloves.”

Someone from the team complied and handed a pair to both Mr Ambrose and Miss Linton.

Mr Ambrose marched over to the body and promptly lifted the covering. “Now Miss Linton, what can you tell me when you look at Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald?”

She stepped closer and stood next to him. “Hmmm…compared to the pictures that the Inspector showed us, the number of blisters on her jawline have increased and some of the skin tissue has undergone degradation. In addition, the region on her neck seems to be more decayed. More of her windpipe appears to be visible with some of the bone corroded.”

“What else can you tell me?”

“Her posture appears to be slightly more stiff so I would guess that rigor mortis has begun to set in. Mr Fitzgerald told us that he was here at seven pm so I’m estimating she died shortly before his arrival.”

“And what more?”

“Hmmm…wait! What’s this?” Something peeked out of one of the alabaster coat’s pockets. Miss Linton reached forward and slowly pulled out a patterned scarf. As she did so, something else tumbled out onto the bed.

“A silk scarf and a pair of sunglasses. Interesting.”

“Maybe for the cold weather?”

“Perhaps. Does anything else stand out to you?”

She shook her head and frowned. “Am I missing something?”

“Look at her hands.”

“But they’re covered by bloodied leather glov— oh!”

She looked at him and he nodded while glancing pointedly at his own rubber glove-clad hands. Why had Mrs Fitzgerald not taken off her gloves when she was inside the room? At first glance, it would have seemed she left them on since she was sick but Miss Linton thought it was still strange. She suspected there was something more. Something that probably had to do with why Mrs Fitzgerald had come to the hotel in the first place….

“We’ve looked at the body for long enough.” Mr Ambrose’s voice snapped Miss Linton out of her thoughts. “Time to inspect the rest of the room.”

He carefully placed the covering over the body and stepped back. As he did, a small table next to the bed came into view and Miss Linton saw something that caught her eye.

“Why is there a glass here? Is this supposed to be wine?” She picked up the clear flute filled with golden liquid, inspecting it.

Mr Ambrose bent over and picked up something on the ground by the table. “I believe so. Sauvignon Blanc, going by what this bottle says.”

Miss Linton leaned closer, sniffing the flute and immediately recoiled.

“What the—? Is white wine supposed to smell this strong? It’s overpowering like perfume!”

He also leaned over and cautiously took a whiff. “How unusual. This bottle is empty so there’s nothing to compare the glass to. The rest of the wine must have spilt on the ground when the bottle fell. But to answer your question, Miss Linton, wine doesn’t typically smell this…overbearing. This wine also appears to be a few shades darker than your usual glass of Sauvignon Blanc.”

“I see. I didn’t realise you’re a wine connoisseur.” She set the glass back on the table.

“I am not. Watch your step, there’s broken glass.” Mr Ambrose instructed as they stepped around the mess next to the bed.

“Hmm, I wonder why these paintings were knocked over from the wall. Wait, what are these markings?”

They both bent down to take a closer look at the faint dark-tinted smears on the backside from one of the frames.

“That appears to be some kind of dried-up liquid. One might even assume that it bears an uncanny resemblance to dried blood.”

They exchanged a long, significant look.

Standing up, Miss Linton also noticed more smears on the other paintings as well as on a few shards of the broken vase. The pair headed into the bathroom and spotted various items lined on the sink’s edge along with a black purse resting on the closed toilet lid.

“Are these supposed to be the victim’s belongings?” Miss Linton called back to the forensics team.

“We believe so, Miss. All of the items currently lined along the sink were found in the purse which originally was set on the sink’s side. One of the items is an identification card that matches the victim’s name and most likely her current address.”

Miss Linton picked up the small blue booklet labelled “Identity Card” and flipped it open. Sure enough, the name written was “Caroline Elaine Sambridge Fitzgerald”. She set the booklet back down and glanced at the other items. Wallet, coin purse, makeup, various keys including the one for the hotel room and…

Two identical bottles of perfume?

Miss Linton’s gaze automatically focused on the bottles laying side by side. The amber colour of each was the same shade but one bottle was half empty while the other appeared to be nearly full. She began to unscrew the pump sprayer of the half-filled bottle.

“What are you doing, Miss Linton?”

“Inspecting the perfume bottles.” She brought the bottle to her nose and warily sniffed it, then held it out towards her employer so that he could do the same. “Oddly, this scent reminds me of the wine.”

She twisted the sprayer back on and recapped the bottle. She carefully unscrewed the other bottle that was nearly filled. As she began to bring it to her nose, she paused abruptly.

“Bloody hell!” She held the bottle out towards Mr Ambrose and he slightly stiffened. She began to quickly screw the sprayer back on. “This bottle reeks! Nothing like perfume whatsoever. Smells more like cleaning product.”

She took out her notebook and ripped out a blank sheet of paper. She then ripped the sheet into two halves and wrote “almost full” on one and “half full” on the other. She set them down on the edge of the sink and then carefully sprayed each perfume bottle once onto its respectively labelled scrap of paper.

“I want to test if they’re different substances,” she explained to the man observing silently next to her. “There’s a chance that they might look different on papers once they dry. We do have to wait though so we should double-check the rest of the room in the meantime.”

They left the bathroom and searched the hotel room one more time, making sure that they did not miss anything. Upon finding that they had not, they returned back to the bathroom and Miss Linton gasped.

“I knew it!” She stared down at the two pieces of paper. “I knew they were different substances.”

The evidence lay in front of her, as clear as a crystal. One piece of paper had not changed colour while the other was covered with black splotches.

— — —

“Let’s split up.”

“Split up?”

“As my apprentice, you need more practice on your own. So for the remaining witnesses, we’re going to take turns speaking to them. Afterwards, we will compare information. Consider this a test for your skills.”

“Alright, sir. So how do we proceed?”

“I will question Edgar Stone, the gardener. You’ll speak to the hotel receptionist and the maid. Then afterwards, we will switch.”

Ten minutes later, Miss Linton was seated back in the staff break room. In front of her sat a man, a pair of spectacles resting on his sallow-face. His displeased gaze and crossed arms gave her the feeling that their conversation would not be as smooth as she desired.

“Mr Hieronymus Pearson, my name is Miss Linton and—”

“Save the introductions and pleasantries, Miss Linton. You know who I am and I certainly know who you are.” The corner of his mouth curled into a sneer. “You’re here to ask me questions about what happened here tonight, aren’t you? You should speak to the manager instead. I’m innocent and you’ll get no useful answers to help your case from me.”

“I will determine that.” Her expression remained unchanged but her tone lost some of its lightness. “Let’s begin now. What were you doing when—”

“When the murder took place? I was attending to the other guests as a receptionist should.”

“Where were you—”

“At the front desk. Where else would I be? Ask more sensible—”

“Mister Pearson.” Miss Linton’s voice cut through his, her tone sharp. “I’m the one asking questions here so I would appreciate it if you allow me to finish them.”

“Why should I?” He shot back. “For the past few hours, I’ve been asked these repetitive, inconsequential questions, over and over again by others. And I’ve already answered them countless times. This is pointless.”

“Fine.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Let me ask you this, Mr Pearson. What duties does the job of a receptionist entail?”

“Pardon me?”

“You are pardoned. Now answer the question.”

“As a receptionist, my job is to make sure that the guests are checked in and out. Along with that, I am tasked with making sure that their stay here is the best it can be. For the past five years, I have been doing exactly that until the mess that has happened tonight.”

“That’s all?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Frankly, I’m disappointed in you, Mr Pearson. As a receptionist, you are much more than the two sentences you used to describe your job. For the past half decade as you put it, you are essentially the face of this establishment. You are the first and last person people see when they are here. Now tell me, in refusing to cooperate with the authorities and law enforcement for something that your higher ups would view as part of your responsibility, how would it look like to them?”

“I…”

“Would they reward you with that raise you’ve been hoping for? Probably not, huh? More like with a permanent vacation, most likely.” She raised an eyebrow

He remained silent, looking at her as one would at a ghost: pallid and bug-eyed.

She sighed. “Look, I know it hasn’t been an easy night for you. But trust me, the same applies for me as well. I don’t want to waste your time so if you give me your cooperation, I will give you mine. Why don’t you tell me what happened from your perspective? If anything is unclear, then I will ask some questions afterwards. Does that work?”

Mr Pearson stared at her for several moments. Finally, he spoke softly. “That arrangement sounds much better, Miss Linton.”

He uncrossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. “Around six thirty this evening, I did see Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald enter our hotel. But at the time, I didn’t know it was her. It wasn’t until after her body was discovered later that I found out who she was. Anyway when she walked in, most of her face was covered with a scarf and a pair of sunglasses. I found it odd to see that she kept walking past the lobby and into the elevator without removing them. However at the same time, another guest was talking to me about a problem with their room so I could not call out to her without seeming rude.”

Mr Pearson took a breath as he continued. “Five minutes later, I received a phone call from room forty-five to have a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc along with one glass delivered and left outside the room’s door. The guest’s voice was definitely female. Nonetheless, I placed the order to room service and from what the staff informed me right after the police arrived here, the wine bottle and glass seemed to be brought into the room shortly after they were delivered.”

He paused when he noticed Miss Linton scribbling furiously into her notepad. 

“Continue,” she urged. “I can listen while I write.”

“Close to seven pm, I saw who I’m guessing was her husband, Mr Fitzgerald. A short, balding young man? He walked up to the front desk and asked me where room forty-five was. I gave him directions and pointed him to the elevator. Shortly after, I receive a phone call from the third floor from Daphne, one of our maids, that there was a dead body in room forty-five. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing so I went to go see for myself. The husband was sobbing in the hallway as I entered the room. When I spotted the body on the bed, I recognised her as the lady I saw entering earlier because of her long white coat. I informed our manager right after and he immediately called the police.”

He exhaled. “Before the police arrived, I saw someone else enter the hotel. He was the man who had actually booked room forty-five a few days ago for today. The reservation was made under the name Edgar Stone but I’m not sure if that’s his real name. I also don’t exactly know what his connection was to the couple but when I informed him that there was a dead body in his room and that the police was arriving, he stared at me in shock. When he asked who it was and I told him it was a young lady, he tried to run towards the elevator but had to be held back by some of the staff. When the police arrived and Mr Fitzgerald was told to go wait in the lobby, he saw Mr Stone and a fight ensued. They were both yelling at each other, trying to land physical blows, and had to be restrained by the officers. It was only when they were told that they would be arrested if they didn’t stop that they finally calmed down. Afterwards, I was taken into the spare rooms for questioning by the officers multiple times along with the rest of the staff and have been here for hours. That’s all from my perspective, Miss Linton.”

She nodded slowly. “I do have one question, Mr Pearson. When Mr Stone made the reservation, you gave him the key to the room, right? How many copies did you give him?”

He looked surprised. “I only gave him one, of course. He said the reservation was just for one person which I assumed to be him.”

“Alright, thank you for your time and cooperation, Mr Pearson. That will be all from me.”

“Very well. Thank you for making the process easier, Miss Linton.” He stood up and walked out.

After a minute of reviewing her notes, she called to the officer waiting outside the break room. “You can let the next person in, I’m ready.”

Soft footsteps shuffled into the room and Miss Linton looked up to see a young woman sit down across from her timidly. She appeared to be no older than eighteen, nervously looking at the brunette detective in anticipation.

“Miss Daphne Belleville, correct?” The young lady nodded apprehensively and she continued. “I’m Miss Lillian Linton and I have been assigned to investigate the murder of Mrs Caroline Fitzgerald. I have a couple of questions for you since you were present shortly after her body was discovered. Shall we proceed?”

Miss Belleville nodded again.

“From my understanding, you work as part of the cleaning staff for this hotel?”

“Yes,” she spoke shyly. “I’m a maid here. I was hired in January.”

“Close to a year then. Why don’t you inform me of what happened to you earlier tonight?”

“I was cleaning some of the rooms on the third floor. When I was changing the bedsheets in one of the empty rooms, I heard a shout for help. I followed the voice to see a man sobbing in the hallway. He told me that he opened a room door and saw his wife lying dead on the bed. I tried to calm him down as best as I could to no avail. He told me the room number when I asked him. I went to the room myself and nearly fainted when I saw the dead lady. I ran out into the hallway to the staff phone and called our hotel receptionist, Mr Pearson. He came up immediately and phoned our manager to call the police. In the meantime, I stayed with the husband to make sure he didn’t do anything reckless. When the police arrived, they gathered the entire staff and questioned us individually. We’ve been here for hours and I’ve had to phone my mum to let her know what happened.” Her shoulders slumped and Miss Linton could see the young lady’s exhaustion from the dark circles under her eyes.

“I see. Is that all?”

“I believe so, I don’t think there’s anythi— Oh! I just remembered something!” Her expression livened as she stared at Miss Linton.

“Yes?”

“Around ten to fifteen minutes before the man called for help, I could have sworn that I heard a scream. It was so quick though so I’m not sure if I imagined it.”

“Did the scream sound like it came from a male or female?”

“Female…I think? I don’t exactly know.”

“Alright. Is that everything you can recall then?”

“Yes. If I remember anything else, I will let you know, Miss Linton.”

“Alright, Miss Belleville. Those are all the questions I have. We’ll do our best to solve this as quickly as possible so you and the rest of the staff can return to your homes sooner.”

“Thank you, Miss Linton.” She gave the detective a small smile as she stood up and made her way out.

Once Miss Linton was alone in the break room, she sighed deeply as she rubbed her temples.

One more person to go, she thought while staring at her notes. Edgar Stone. He’s the final key to all of this. I’m sure I’ll know who the killer is once I speak to him.

— — —

END PART 1

How is it so far? I hope you’re enjoying reading this prompt. Any possible ideas on who the culprit could be?

[jaybeefoxy]

My new Dalgliesh fic up is up for Valentines Day

I have paired Adam with Daniel Tarrant this time. Two pining idiots, about time they got together. Read it Here.

[stormandsilence-clickbait]

The affair between the Businessman Rikkard Ambrose and Lord Daniel Dalgliesh is Revealed!

Click for more info

[dogleashed]

Courtesy of @dickstailcoat

[fortressofserenity]

Finding Adam

By Ada Mina, with characters by PD James

18-year-old Mick Dalgliesh inherited the dark good looks of his parents, though he never had much interest in his parents’ literary pursuits. He likes Goth bands like Sisters of Mercy and listens to their songs on his playlist, but he wondered if he did this because neither of his parents saw each other anymore. The last time he saw his father was when he was 16, the time he became a legal adult. Perhaps Adam Dalgliesh lost interest in his wife, Emma, and he’d often write poems about dying. Mick thought he was probably suicidal, since he expressed a desire to kill himself whenever he wasn’t feeling good.

Adam rarely feels good ever since he lost his first wife and child, no woman would ever satisfy him, not even Emma. In fact, whenever he gets upset she’d administer medicine to him and oftentimes he takes it, but at other times he found it utterly unnecessary that he’d go away from her for long periods of time. So he often visited the pub, with a notebook and a pen in his hand. He often feels guilty for not being a good husband to Emma and not a good enough father for Mick that he’d drink everyday to numb it, he’d even frequently submit those morbid poems to magazines and websites. Mick felt alarmed because it’s like he wants to kill himself.

He tried to stop his father from drinking and writing those, but he never stopped so he got hospitalised many times over. Emma didn’t like being alone and would often seek the company of other men to keep herself calm, but oftentimes sleeping around with them and sometimes having flings with bodybuilders and footballers. Mick didn’t like that whenever she brought along a new man to their house, that he’d often leave her for his friends, Danielle Mercer and Abe Haskins. He’d hang out at their houses to play Sisters of Mercy songs on their computers and smartphones when he has the time to, since Emma would take him back him even when he didn’t feel like it.

Once again, Emma brought home a new man and his name is Brian Murphy. She met him before while feeding foxes together, so they’d visit each other whenever they went out to feed those animals. Murphy is a few years older than Mick, he has high cheekbones, light brown hair and preternaturally blue eyes. Emma found him to be very attractive and would kiss him often whenever he came here, but Mick doesn’t like that and went to his bedroom to avoid seeing her with another man. In his room, he plays ‘More’. Though alone and bereft of his friends, at least he wouldn’t see his mum flirting with another man for long.

Then he starts emailing his friends to come over to his house, so that he wouldn’t feel so lonely for long. He waits for hours, hoping they’ll arrive and come to his rescue. Then these two finally arrived at the doorstep, Danielle with her dyed and teased blue-black hair, black tights, combat boots and little black dress met Emma. She closely inspects her unusual appearance, those curiously blonde eyebrows and roots of hers and her thick eyeliner. Emma believed her to be suspicious though she’s oblivious of the fact that she herself often made out with any man she finds in Adam’s absence.

Abe Haskins looks more normal, with his blond hair tied in a ponytail, black Sisters of Mercy shirt, bifocal glasses and blue jeans. Then he starts talking.

‘Madam, where’s Mick?’

Then Danielle followed.

‘He told us to come over here, so where is he?’

‘He’s in his bedroom. Who are you both?’

‘My name is Danielle Mercer, nice to meet you. What’s yours?’

‘Emma Lavenham-Dalgliesh. Why do you dress like that?’

‘It’s my style, don’t get too worked over it.’

‘I’m Abe Haskins, studying psychology in uni.’

Then Mick arrives and takes the two in his room, but Emma wasted no time introducing both of them to her new boyfriend.

‘Danielle, Abe, this is Brian.’

‘Hi Dani, hi Abe.’

Then Mick retorted.

‘Mum, this is embarrassing!’

He shooed her away, along with her boyfriend to be alone with his. Mick has been embarrassed by his mother’s promiscuity, wondering why she never bothered bringing back Adam since he told her to. But then again Adam would make himself disappear for long periods of time, making it hard to find him so Mick had to put up with Emma’s new boyfriend every time. That Adam got hospitalised for his depression and alcoholism made him grow fonder of him in some way, despite being equally appalled by his suicidal tendencies. With Danielle and Abe, he found comfort and solace. They’ll never betray him, they’ll never abandon him even if they themselves mess up.

Danielle with her commitment to her biology studies, Abe’s commitment to psychology and that Mick works as a DJ in his spare time. Mick also never really liked how Emma would come home smelling of fox urine, telling her to stop feeding foxes even though it’s taking a toll on her hygiene. He did his best to keep her company, often talking to her about his favourite books (his were often about Goth bands and rock music in general) and reading his father’s poems out loud. But he knew that his father lost interest in her, not that he disliked her but he grew more aloof from her the worse his depression got. Adam never legally separated from Emma, but over time they led separate lives.

Emma with her foxes and boyfriends, tending to Mick’s feelings from time to time. But he also felt that she practically forgot about Adam now, since she doesn’t see him much anymore. Looking very distressed, both Danielle and Abe played ‘Dominion’ another one of his favourite Sisters of Mercy songs. Abe starts patting him on the back while Danielle wiped his tears, doing their best to comfort him. Mick wondered why he was born to a man who lost interest to the woman who’s his mother, why his mother would be obliged to either feed foxes or sleep with men whenever she felt lonely and distressed. His friends’ parents aren’t like that.

Danielle’s parents Steve and Janet deeply love each other, they always have each other’s backs when tragedy strikes. Both of them are deeply supportive of her career in biology, of the three she’s best equipped to put up with Emma’s other habit of feeding foxes when she’s not sleeping around. Abe’s parents are also supportive of his career in psychology, where Abe aspires to work in that field. He’s best equipped to understand Adam’s state of mind and tendency to disappear whenever he doesn’t feel good, perhaps they are the only ones who understand what Mick’s going through.

‘Danielle, my mum keeps feeding foxes. She’s been doing this whenever my dad leaves her.’

‘You should go tell her that she should be careful with those, lest they get too familiar with people for their own good.’

‘I can’t stand the smell these buggers give off.’

‘That’s got to do with the glands in their bodies.’

‘Good point, now that I realised.’

Then Mick turns to Abe.

‘Abe, my dad keeps writing poems about wanting to kill himself. He’d do anything to leave, trying to do that.’

‘Mick, that’s a red flag. Has he been medicated or hospitalised?’

‘Many times over, by the former by my mum.’

‘I better find him, can you accompany me to the hospital he’s in? It’s somewhere here.’

The three went outside to find him, with Mick telling them where he has been. Minutes turn to hours when they finally arrive there, looking for him whenever they can. Then they go on asking where Adam Dalgliesh is, they say that he’s somewhere upstairs. Looking for the room where he could be, they went left and right for it. Eventually Mick spotted his father taking medicine from a nurse, his bandaged arms a sign of self-harm.

‘Hi, Dad. It’s me Mick, haven’t seen you in a long while.’

‘Mick, I feel like s---.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m not good enough, everything I do is wrong.’

‘Sometimes I feel I’m not good enough either, that I should’ve stopped her from cheating sooner than later.’

‘I don’t like it whenever she forces me to take medicine. Actually I don’t like being medicated much, it’s demoralising.’

‘Good evening, Adam, it’s me Danielle. Mick’s worried about you and he wants to see you.’

‘Adam, I’m Abe. Can I help you?’

Adam withdrew from them, locking up the room when he told them to. He goes on writing poems again, away from their sight and alone with the nurse. Mick felt disappointed because he wanted to see him again, but he pushes away people. Nothing can make him happy, even those who love him the most. They all go to Danielle’s house, Mick feels safer but still yearns for his father. Isolated, even with people by his side.

[fiery-ifrit]

Karim: I think we've lost Mr Ambrose

Lilly: Hold on i've got this

Lilly: RIKKARD AMBROSE IS AS RICH AS DANIEL DALGLIESH

Mr Ambrose, appearing through the crowd: I'M FOUR POUNDS RICHER MR LINTON BE ACCURATE

Lilly: there he is