Brunhilde Aune (31), personal bodyguard of Yara Ashour

From the lounge, you entered the kitchen-- the house had an odd set-up, connecting the lounge into the kitchen from the west and the dining room to the kitchen from the east, with further storage areas in the south. This felt like the cleanest room in the house. The floors looked newly waxed and possibly recently replaced, very modern compared to the rest, with an alternating white and black pattern like a checkerboard. The counter-tops and cupboards were all spotlessly maintained and clear, apart from where they were currently being utilized to prepare an immaculate feast for the night.

You'd noticed that the servants, who ought to be attending to guests, had been pretty absent, apart from Old Eric, up to this point. That seemed to be because they were all busy back here, preparing the evening meal. You squinted your eyes, searching the movement in the room for the big, blond woman who'd been dismissed from the lounge a moment ago.

"Behind you."

The female-- but not terribly feminine-- voice surprised you and prompted an immediate turn. The woman was standing with her back against the wall and her beefy arms crossed beneath her chest. She'd probably been there the whole time, waiting in case Yara called out with any kind of need. Before you had a chance to begin any sort of conversation, she pushed off the wall and gestured by raising her hand and curling two fingers, indicating you should follow her. Evidently, she didn't want to talk with so many people around.

As you walked behind her, matching her quick pace, you had a good chance to study her from the back. Her employer was a little short, very dark, and soft all over. She was just the opposite: a little taller even than you, with pale skin and a unique body shape, tightly packed with muscle and somewhat broad in the shoulders. Nowhere was her musculature clearer than her ridiculously tight ass, hugged by black, leather slacks that showed off every curve due to their fit. Her shoes were riding boots, tall with the leather pants tucked in, and her jacket had the logo of a bike gang you didn't recognize on it, picturing a sharp-eyed fox. Those eyes seemed to watch you, daring you to keep staring at her ass and see what happened.

Once you reached the dining room-- a mirror image of the lounge apart from the long table that was its main fixture-- she finally turned and recrossed her arms. You were struck that she could have the classic features of a fairy-tale princess but at some point in life had made a deliberate choice not to. Her blue eyes were striking, with long lashes, but were persistently half squinted in suspicion. Just one of her ears was pierced with an unassuming silver stud. Her lips were unpainted and held into a tight frown. Her platinum blond hair was stylishly pixie cut, but uncombed and untreated, a direct rejection of femininity.

She stood like a statue, silent as she waited for you to begin your interrogation. Luckily, your courage as a detective with a history of field work reduced the intimidation factor a bit, but you understood now why Yara employed this woman as a bodyguard. If looks could kill...

You introduced yourself: Malcolm Wolf, a detective here in the companionship of Linda Catz. When she still said nothing, you identified her instead: Brunhilde Aune, bodyguard of one Yara Ashour.

"Yes," she answered simply, tilting her chin up with a distasteful frown. "What were you and Yara talking about just now?"

Somehow, you'd become the interrogation target. You told her that it was nothing important, just a few questions related to your investigation of the case at hand. Her expression, with one eyebrow raised, made it clear she'd missed that part of the conversation. You explained the basics once again, from your arrival to your meeting with Wanda, omitting only the most sordid details. When you finished, the woman wore a somehow even more frightening, stormy expression, furrowing her brow.

"Then Yara is in danger. She is not taking this seriously enough," Brunhilde murmured, then clicked her teeth, looking irritated. She did seem to have a pretty irritating employer.

You told her to relax, saying that the best thing everyone could do for the time being would be to remain calm and cooperate with a basic investigation, starting with the simplest facts. You needed to know who you were sharing the island with. That meant not just Yara, but also, her bodyguard, equally at risk as a potential victim, equally probable as a culprit.

Brunhilde sighed, then rested her shoulder against a nearby wall, with no regard for decorum such as not touching the wallpaper. "I will tell you now: I do not believe in mind control. Yara does, of course, but I do not. It's all rubbish. I believe you when you say that there is a threat and I'm sure Wanda Croft was targeted, but magic and such forces do not exist. It is an elaborate ruse," she finished, wearing a frown that dared you to challenge her.

You did, with the conviction of one who's seen evidence to the contrary just moments earlier. You told her that there were certainly magical forces at play-- what you'd seen in the study, including the flashing of the lights, the ringing of bells, and the shift in Wanda Croft's eye color, along with her trance behaviors, could not be explained as simple trickery.

"So you say. I've had a lot of experience with frauds. People trying to get Yara to part with her money. I enjoy shoving their so-called 'mystical' toys up their self-righteous asses," the woman proclaimed, finally showing a smile for the first time since you'd met her. It reminded you of the snarling expression of the fox on the back of her jacket, one that could be confused for either glee or anger. "This is another in a long line. Probably a game, played by Wanda herself."

It was quite a claim, and an interesting one, but you didn't have the patience to run it down given that you had zero doubt of the magic at work here based on what you'd already experienced. For now, you shifted the topic. How had a woman like Yara come to hire one such as Brunhilde?

"One such as me? What, Nordic?"

You pointed rather to the differences in their personalities and origins. Yara must certainly have grown up with some money, presumably somewhere around Egypt, given how she seemed proud of her claim to that heritage. Brunhilde, by contrast, appeared to have once belonged to a biker gang-- and probably far off from Egypt.

"It is a long story."

You bid her to tell it anyway.

"Hmph." She scoffed, turning her eyes to watch out the window instead of looking at you. "Then I will condense it for you. Yara travels all over the world. One time, she visited my neck of the woods. She gave me a very lucrative offer to stay by her side. I agreed. I was done with that life anyway-- I'd done everything there was to do."

It still didn't seem to quite add up-- it sounded like she was pretty big in her gang. Would a woman like her really entertain an offer, even a good one, to be at the beck and call of someone as egoistic and silly as Yara Ashour? There was more that wasn't being shared here.

This moment, with the two of you alone, offered a good opportunity to delve in further using your detective techniques.