July 9th, 1893 — Hogsmeade Police Station

It felt like a fever, this heat of anxiety. It didn't break into panic, because Natty was measured, and emotionally cautious; but still the anxiety teetered on the edge of boiling point as he ran his hand distractedly through his hair.

It was a blessedly cool Summer's evening — at least, cooler than yesterday — and Natty wondered if the police station would even be manned at this hour. He'd never been there. But he was certain he saw a light on as he took two steps in one, and, with caution dropped, tried the door.

Rhys Gallagher

(OOC: Wasn't sure where the police station is, so I plonked the thread here; feel free to move!)

  

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One of the perks of being the Head Constable, was that he didn't often have to work the night shift. But he was human and he did know his constables had lives outside of the office, so he tried to make sure they got nights off every now and then. Plus it was usually pretty quiet, even in the summer. Dorset was around somewhere, because he couldn't give them all the night off, but Rhys and Roxy were behind his desk in his office doing paperwork (well, Rox was snoozing). That was the unfortunate part of running the place. The paperwork.

He heard the door open and without anybody in the front to see what was going on, Rhys stretched unfolded himself from his desk and stretched quickly before making his way out. "Copper, you alright?" He said, switching easily from paperwork to police work easily.

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It's on the High Street, I moved it! PS I think you have an unclosed italics code!

  

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(OOC: Ahh, ty and ty! <3)

Natty hadn't expected to be met with the tall and steady form of the Chief Constable himself upon arrival. A moment's guilt washed over him, but he tried to wave it away. This was important — and Gallagher wasn't just a local policeman. He was a friend.

"Ah, I didn't mean to go straight to the top with this... but I'd be grateful for your help, Rhys. I'm here to report a theft. But it's, er —" he flattened his hair distractedly, "a little complicated."

  

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"Anyone hurt?" Rhys meant physically and he looked his friend up and down, but didn't see any signs of a scuffle or anything. That was a relief at that. "Come back into my office." He waved Natty in and motioned for the other man to take a seat across from him.

Rhys pulled his notepad and the form needed to collect all of the right information for the situation. "What's happened?" He said, poised to write down anything needed.

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"Nobody's hurt", Natty promised with a slight sigh. "I suppose this is quite a petty crime really..." He couldn't help but be apologetic that he'd put it before the Chief Constable.

But it was important to Natty. So he took the proffered seat, and with relative composure explained what had happened. "The only manuscript of a book I've written has been stolen from my home in Pennyworth". He'd been all set to duplicate it... but evidently had been too late. So far, so simple. But this is where things get complicated. "The manuscript includes some confidential paperwork that identifies me as its author. The thing is", he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "officially I am not the author. I am a ghost writer. And it is... of paramount importance to my employer that this fact remains hidden."

  

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Rhys wasn't sure he was following, but made notes anyway. A ghost writer? "I'm afraid I don't follow," Rhys didn't have a ton of time for reading, these days. "I do understand a manuscript was stolen from your house." That was the crime part, he supposed, the part where he was concerned. "But I don't know what a ghost writer is." Was Copper working with an actual ghost to write a novel? He supposed it would be unconventional, but a ghost couldn't do it themselves after all. But Natty had mentioned an employer, so Rhys was still a little confused.

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"Ah — forgive me", he identified the misunderstanding in his friend's expression a moment before he voiced it. Had Natty not been in a state of quiet panic, he might have found his own lack of explanation amusing.

"I am hired to write novels for an author, under his name."

  

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"Huh," Rhys made a note of that. He'd never heard of it before, but he supposed as long as it was working for Copper, it made sense. Why he wouldn't just publish under his own name was a bit of a mystery, but he wasn't going to question it. "I understand, a matter of theft and reputation. Do you have any idea as to when, specifically, it may have been taken? Was there any sign of forced entry?" All routine questions. "Does anyone else have access to your place?" It was sometimes easier to eliminate easy persons of interest or make note of anyone with an easy way in.

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Natty was quietly grateful his friend hadn't asked him to elaborate on the term. The whys of why he was a Ghost Writer, instead of a writer under his own name, were a little embarrassing. A little depressing. But there were more pressing things at hand anyway.

"The theft took place scarcely an hour ago. I'd left the flat to run a quick errand, and left a window open to catch the evening air. When I returned, I saw a figure climbing down the trellis from my window, manuscript in arms. But as I ran forward, she apparated."

... Did he just say she? He wasn't sure where that came from.

  

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Rhys continued to make notes as his friend explained the situation further. "You think it was a woman?" Interesting. "Did you get a good look, could you describe her, at least maybe the build or hair color?" That would be a good jumping off point and he could draw up a profile for his officers to keep an eye out for.

"I'll get the information put together and get a couple officers on it. What else can I do for you?" Rhys wasn't sure what exactly Copper wanted him to retrieve, but he would do his best to make it happen.

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(OOC: FYI the thief is Hestia, it's up to you if Rhys recognises her description! >:3)

Natty nodded gratefully, even managing a slight, relieved smile — not relieved because this had been sorted, but relieved because the matter was in good hands.

When asked to describe the perpetrator, Natty gazed off to the side, looking vaguely at the stone wall as he tried to summon up the memory. "Slim, young, average height." So far, so useless. "And she looked to be foreign", he returned his gaze thoughtfully to Rhys. "An exotic."  Yes Natty, let's add more awkwardly archaic words to that list.

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   Hestia

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The description Natty gave him fit a couple of locals, but Rhys didn't exactly have much to go on outside of that. He did jot down everything he was told and would certainly investigate. He was generally pretty good at his job, so hopefully he could help his friend out here. "Make sure to owl me if you remember anything else of note and I will get started on this immediately."

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wrap?

  

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Natty looked from one eye to the other in search of recognition, but there was nothing there. Just Rhys's usual professional thoughtfulness. Natty leaned back in his chair and sighed slightly, then gave a nod of understanding. He was anxious that there was no possibility of solving this crime here and now... the longer it took, the more danger he'd be in. But he had to have trust, and patience — and, if needed, acceptance and adaptability. Sometimes unwanted things happened, and could not be undone; merely dealt with as best one could.

"Thank you, Rhys."

(Wrap!)

  

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