Dee Langley (35), coincidentally, a second detective

You'd been on a lucky streak for a while in terms of quickly locating the women you were looking for and interrogating them, but this time around, the last one was proving elusive. The first floor was clearly the one meant for gathering guests and socializing, but after coming up empty searching the remaining rooms-- the servant's quarters, restrooms, and even a few out of sight places like the walk-in pantry and the laundry room-- you determined she was either on the second floor or the third floor.

You weren't actually sure if you were allowed to return to the third floor without being invited there again, so you searched around the second. As you did, an annoying realization set in: it was possible your peer in the detective business had heard some commotion coming from the third floor and gone to conduct her own investigation, perhaps even knowing you wouldn't be around to get in her way. Your second floor exploration yielded new details of the house: there were six guest rooms on the left side, most of which seemed to be prepared for female guests, and six on the men's side, which collectively only contained the belongings of one man: you. The servants must generally stay in the attached servant's quarters instead. This also appeared to be the floor housing most of Wanda's artifact collection, including a library to the left side and an exhibit to the right, but both were currently closed off to visitors, locked tight. You imagined Wanda planned to include them in the tour before it all went so awry. It was hard to even remember that's what you'd originally been brought here to do: gawk at her collection.

You knocked on Dee's door, identifiable by a tied tag hanging from the door-handle, but got nothing. Peeking in, you found her roll-aboard suitcase, pure white in color, sitting at the foot of her bed, still packed. Very little in the way of personal affects dotted the room otherwise. The rooms looked pretty comfortable, with beds large enough for two, though intended for one, and other furniture including a desk for reading/writing, a closet and dresser, a standing mirror, and a lamp to accompany the overhead lights. No television-- Wanda didn't seem to care much for that sort of thing. You closed the door quickly and quietly behind yourself.

Unless Dee was hiding inside one of the locked rooms-- unlikely-- then the only place left for her to be was on the third floor. She had all the nosiness of a detective who can't turn it off when she's on vacation. Then again, perhaps that was being too rude. There was a chance she just genuinely wanted to help... or that she'd been unwillingly pulled in to solving this caper, like you had.

Either way, you desperately needed to talk to her before dinner rolled around. The clock was ticking and you had a feeling that the dinner assembly, where everyone was gathered, was sure to include a discussion of who the likely culprit in this case was. Most importantly, you need to make sure that the name thrown around wasn't yours, or else your freedom to solve this case could come to a screeching halt.

You'd just made the decision to ascend the staircase when you practically bumped into the woman herself, making her way down very quietly. She had her nose down in a book, reading with such focus that she seemed hypnotized herself, and when you apologized to her for nearly colliding with her, the apology came and went completely one-sided. It was like she didn't even see you.

At least this gave you an opportunity to look her over without judgment-- you couldn't be called the rude one for doing so, given her own attitude. Dee looked to be the oldest of the women you'd encountered for, evident from a bit of set-in lines around her eyes, but her body looked fit and lean to an extent rivaled only by Brunhilde's. Her clothing looked like she'd stepped out of a noir movie and someone had forgotten to color her in-- gray slacks with black suspenders, a black belt, a white shirt, and a black-and-gray checkered tie with a shape like a long-tailed lizard running down it from knot to tip. The shirt accented the curvature of her body rather well, including her nice-sized breasts, tight abdomen, and toned arms. However, all of it was a little wasted with the way she stood ramrod straight and completely without animation. Her skin was a deep brown tone, a little less dark than Yara's, and her hair had been coiled into very tight dreadlocks, reaching not quite to her shoulders and tucked mostly under a gray fedora that she evidently insisted on wearing indoors. One strand escaped and dangled in front of her eyes, but she seemed adept at ignoring it.

The woman's eyes seemed somehow almost unblinking and the ireses were the same black color as her suspenders. It was a little uncanny. She ignored you with complete indifference for a moment longer, then clapped her notebook shut and tucked it carelessly inside the side of her trousers. She finally extended one hand for a shake, putting on a neutral expression that was her closest facsimile of a smile, a little less gloomy than her standard expression. "Dee Langley. Scotland Yard," she introduced herself in a quiet, unassuming, and uninterested sounding voice that didn't match the old-fashioned handshake. There wasn't a bit of Scotland Yard in her voice. Her accent sounded strangely as though it was nothing... from nowhere. As though she'd intentionally sanded off every bit of national flavor.

You gave her your name and shook her hand tightly.

"Malcolm Wolf... Right. The private detective Tallula mentioned. I just spoke to her. You were also the first to discover the victim."

You weren't sure if that last statement was meant to include a judgment, accusation, or anything else... her voice was completely unaffected as she said it. Very cryptic, this woman. You asked if she'd gotten all of the details so far.

"I believe so. Then again, if I hadn't... I don't think you would be a reliable person to tell me more. You would, however, be an interesting person to interview regardless."

There it was. She did suspect you.

Her eyes stared into yours, perhaps searching, perhaps not, but definitely not blinking, as she continued. "The way it happened: you came in through a special entrance. They didn't say which, but probably the servant's entrance. Unless it was a secret path. Whatever the case, none of the other guests saw you enter. You went upstairs to Wanda's room. By your testimony, she was already affected by the time you went in. Then she jumped you. She tried to perform fellatio."

Her eyes narrowed for a moment as she watched your reaction, then the faintest hint of a smile curled the corners of her lips.

"Succeeded in performing fellatio. It went further than you told Tallula. Did Wanda swallow?" The woman produced her pad and pen again.

It was only just then that you realized how annoying it was to talk to someone who's recording everything you say with a pad and pen. You might have to try to rid yourself of that habit, at least during your stay here-- you felt somehow outmatched by her note-taking prowess. At any rate, you went on the defensive, asking her if she really thought that kind of question was appropriate.

"Could be important. Did she swallow?"

You grimaced and nodded slowly.

"Hm, I see. Did you enjoy watching her do that?"

At this, you did object and refuse to answer. It seemed like these kinds of personal questions couldn't possibly assist her investigation.

The woman shut her book and stuffed it back into the side of her slacks. "You're right. I apologize. I'm told I have a hard time telling what information is appropriate and useful. I tend to over-indulge. But it's interesting. Wanda didn't pounce me or anyone else that way. I heard Wanda was bisexual, but it seems her preference may have been men. Or, then again. Maybe you controlled her to do it. If we go for the most obvious answer, that's it. Easy to suspect you controlled her during your private meeting. Were you taken with her charm? She's attractive, a known flirt, and she was dressed in just that short gown."

You scoffed and asked what proof she had. You'd been combing the others for info since you got here and assembled all kinds of motives from the others. You, on the other hand, had no history with Wanda Croft whatsoever, nor really even an interest in her body of work. You were a total outsider here. How could an outsider come to a place like this and immediately capture the mind of its hostess, an expert in mind control techniques?

Dee bit the cap of her pen for a moment, seeming lost in thought. "There was time between receiving your invitation and coming here. Time to make preparations. I'm no expert in magic. I do know that Wanda was a powerful magician, like her mother. It is surprising that you or any of the others managed to overpower her. But. Someone did. And you got the most out of it. Right? A blowjob."

You hissed for her to quiet down for the sake of decency and not talk about such a thing right there on the second floor landing.

"No one's around..." she spoke quietly, sounding a little like a child making excuses.

She'd given you a lot to chew on already, but she seemed like one of the toughest nuts to crack of them all, in terms of her odd, cold behavior and the way she'd immediately decided to pin all of her suspicion on you. Still, you wondered if all of that would work to her advantage. If this was as warm and personal as she got, she might not win any personality contests with the others... it was possible your relative charm would rescue you from her accusations. Either way, turnabout was fair play-- you prepared to joust with her for a while before the dinner bell rang.