empathicfault | IC Inbox

The kiss wouldn't belong in this scene, except for the two of them here. Will basks in it, this unspoken support. The connection. And he breathes it in, settling and finding calm as he watches Malcolm's face.

He looks down with a chuckle at the last note, and adds, "I guess not. Did the victims 'debut'? Maybe this was supposed to be it for them." He quirks an eyebrow and looks at Malcolm. "Did you have to do anything like this? A...finishing school?" He honestly doesn't know how most of it works.

“Finishing schools are for girls, but I did go to an elite boarding school that was founded by my mother’s family and for which she still sits on the board. The incident I told you about - the boy that locked me in the janitor’s closet and my… retribution…” He doesn’t call it his murder this time. “That’s the school I got expelled from for it. I don’t think my mother has ever had much hope that I could be ‘perfect’, even if it were an option. She’s at the point where she’ll take ‘alive’ and ‘reasonably functional’.” He shrugs and smiles a bit. “I’m not sure I could gave sat through etiquette class with a straight face anyway.”

Will actually cracks a smile as Malcolm finally calls it something other than a 'murder'. Retribution sounds like the proper word for it, and he's proud of Malcolm for not taking that unearned guilt. But still- ugh. That place. "I would've been thrown out of both places before the end of the day, I imagine," he admits with a sly smile. "I feel bad for your sister's plight, though. Especially..."

He trails off and tilts his head. "Was she targeted too? Or- is asking spoiling the case?"

"It's not directly related. She was targeted too. Not... to that extreme of an extent, but... whispers. Comments. Snubs. We all were." He gestures to the body on the ground. "Do you want to see the school or the doll maker's workshop?"

Oops, Will had meant to ask if she was targeted by the killer, since she didn't 'debut'. But this is better for him to know in the long-term, anyway. And yeah, that's probably spoiling some things.

So he just rubs his chin for a moment, then says, "The school. A dollmaker would be a good candidate for a killer- someone who literally objectifies women, but...in this case, the eye is a 'fix.' Just like the murders are. The real heart of the matter is that they were imperfect girls, so let's check out where they-" He makes a face and his fingers come up to make air quotes. "correct that."

Malcolm grins because it's the right answer. He goes to the control panel and presses some buttons and now they're standing in the formal (kind of Victorian) entry hall of a so posh it feels musty mansion come school for girls. He looks at Will to decide where he wants to go.

Will just stands there for a long moment, somewhat disoriented. He blinks as Malcolm returns to his side, then starts looking all around. The way his eyes move, one might think he was uncomfortable in the space, and- well, that's true. However, more importantly, he's also gathering information. Small hallway, old building, smells like harsh, old-fashioned cleaners and perfume.

Eventually Will starts moving. He's not looking for people to talk to- even if this wasn't the Enclosure, he'd be peeking around every corner and gathering information for as long as he could without interacting with anyone. However, he is used to people taking some issue with this, so he's near silent as he does it. He walks through the hallway, exploring the first floor and hoping to find some offices. Some places with records.

Malcolm follows him, also silent as long as Will is doing his thing and not asking any questions. There is an office on this floor. An old fashioned desk. An old fashioned telephone. A filing cabinet. Old fashioned everything; the records aren't on a computer.

Perfect. Will starts opening the drawers to look into the records. he asks for the names of the victims and starts looking through them, also keeping an eye out for Ainsley. It doesn't take him too long to find all three and he notes, "They're very close in age. That might be significant. The headmistress here has been doing this for decades..."

"She has. Miss Windsor started this school when she was a young woman," Malcolm tells him. "But obviously she's in her fifties now. She considers all the girls that pass through her school her 'family'."

"Mmmhmmm. But does she consider the 'failures' her family?" he asks pointedly, albeit to the air. "Even the girls that don't debut? I'm sure that's not something she'd speak to polite company about, but maybe..."

He starts looking through other drawers and any daily planners he can find. "She'd have something written around that gives away her feelings..."

“She also lived here,” Malcolm tells him. “Her suite is on the second floor. And then there’s another room in the attic, where her assistant lives.”

Will's eyebrow raises and he stands up from his rooting around. "Oh. Well, no wonder there's nothing personal here. Let's go take a look."

He heads to the stairs, adding, "Her assistant lives here, too? That's...a little different. Not a debutante, I take it?" Because none of the girls who come here would need to take an assistant job. No, any job they did would have them front and center, most likely.

“No, indeed,” Malcolm agrees, following him. “Only the daughters of the finest families in the city could afford Miss Windsor’s School of Etiquette.” He could say more, but watching Will deduce it in real time is so much better.

"'Finest,'" Will repeats with a sneer, as he walks up the stairs. Upon reaching the top, his features soften, and he smiles at Malcolm. "Well. One of them produced you, so I suppose they're not all bad."

But Malcolm's answer did highlight the strangeness of the assistant being here. It's not really a live-in position, is it? More Miss Windsor's house, so unless the assistant was acting as a maid to Windsor-- he realizes an assumption he was already making. "She wouldn't have a male assistant living here with her. Too unbecoming. So-"

He sweeps past the living quarters for Windsor to find the access to the attic. That's the room he needs to see.

Malcolm grins as Will sweeps past Miss Windsor’s rooms to look for the attic.

“Many things are ‘unbecoming’ for a perfect lady. One must be proper. Silent. Chaste. Well-mannered. A gracious hostess.”

The attic bedroom is both old-fashioned and… childlike. Fairy lights. China dolls. Soft pastel bedding. Lace doilies. On a table by the door is a telephone. Beside it, a list of names, including Ainsley Whitly. The victims’ names are crossed off.

Edited 2023-12-27 03:03 (UTC)

Will walks into the attic, takes one look at it, and laughs. He heads for the dolls, picking one up and inspecting the eyes. "I think we found our culprit," he says definitively. "But-"

He cuts himself off when he sees the list. He'd been half-looking for a diary, but Ainsley's name is easy to make out. "Your sister get out of this whole thing okay?" There's no way Ainsley wouldn't be involved- even if she was a more...human person than Freddie, she was still a journalist. No way would she pass up investigating something she already had connections to.

“Oh, she used herself as bait,” Malcolm tells him. “Pretended to pass out after pretending to drink the roofied tea and I found them in this very room where Miss Windsor’s secret illegitimate daughter was preparing her lethal dose while Ainsley was prone on the bed. Annnd then I had to stop Ainsley from stabbing her. And then we had to get out of here because Miss Windsor turned on all the gas lines and lit a match.”

Will chuckles in relief as he realizes Ainsley was just as quick a thinker as Malcolm was. His eyebrows climb as he hears 'secret illegitimate daughter'- that's a hell of a motive- and he laughs more bitterly at hearing about Miss Windsor. "What a petty wretch. Couldn't be there for her daughter, couldn't stand anyone else knowing that her house had been built on 'lies.' Like that wouldn't come out after her death."

He looks around at the room, smiling in the satisfaction of solving the puzzles. As his eyes meet Malcolm's, he grins. "Were you able to get out with no stabbing happening? Did you get the daughter out of here? What was the actual murder method, morphine?"

“It was a combination of rohypnol and the use of a debreather. The actual cause of death was asphyxiation rather than poisoning… sorry, ‘lethal dose’ was misleading. She would dose them more to make sure they were well out and then suffocate them ever so gently to death,” he explains.

"No, no. Just checking to see if I was right. Although I was picturing more of a pillow on a face than an actual debreather- that is gentle."

He's energized, almost giddy (well, as giddy as he gets) about finding this place. He turns over the idea of trying to stab this young woman in his mind- he doesn't think he'd fall to that immediately. There's clearly a child's mentality here. She was never allowed to 'debut,' to grow up like all those around her were. "Were there clues in the dollmaker's place, too? Might've led to the assistant too, I bet."

“She couldn’t risk any physical damage to the body,” Malcolm says, grinning just as giddily. “Not even the generally faint but very telltale signs of asphyxiation like the stippling around the mouth. The debreather left them… unmarred.”

At the question about the dollmaker, he smiles broadly again. “That was mostly a dead end, except we discovered that he made custom dolls for the school. Every girl that debuted received a perfect china doll made in their image. JT and Gil brought the dollmaker in as a suspect, but I talked to him for like a minute and I knew it wasn’t him. Wrong psychosexual problem. He’s an agalmatophiliac. You chose the right path to the correct suspect.”

He nods along with Malcolm's reasoning. Of course she couldn't risk damage to the body. They had to be perfect. The further explanation about the dollmaker has Will smiling very genuinely. He did pick the right path. Not that they wouldn't have gotten there otherwise, but he didn't make a mis-step.

"What this is telling me," he says, extremely pleased. "-is that we'd have a much easier time of it, if everyone just got out of our way."

Malcolm laughs. "Right? Or... listened to us ever. That would help too," he jokes. He pauses. Shifts his weight. "Um. I was wondering... if it's okay to give you your Christmas present today." He gestures around them. "Okay, I mean your other Christmas present!" he corrects, acknowledging the case was also a gift. "I know it's a little early, but I'm dying," he says, fidgeting.

Will laughs, too, and he's still chuckling as Malcolm mentions that he's dying. "Okay, okay. I'm sure you are. But first-" Will reaches out for Malcolm's hand and grabs it to pull the man into his arms. He gives Malcolm a short but gentle kiss. "Thank you for this. It's been...extremely satisfying."

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