Log:Night at the Museum: Interrogation

Night At The Museum 2021/07/23 	 Evan Grimm Night Marshal

2

The Story So Far ...

The Science Museum's metallurgy section has had a breakin -- but from all appearances, nothing whatsoever is missing. A spear-head of Hessian manufacture, dated to seventeen twenty-four and tapered to become a bayonet, was indicated as having its hard-wired alarm link broken. Night Marshal and Grimm responded to the alarm even before the security guards inside did, and wound up scaring the bejeesus out of them (and stunning one of them). Grimm, however, had detected the unravelled remnants of two spells. Therefore, what is known:

-- The Two Spells: one, something that suppressed the alarm from going off (and the wearing-off of which undoubtedly allowed the alarm to do so), anchored to what appears to be a small silver coin, the engravings upon which are half-ruined by the heat of the channeled energy, leading to the spell's failure; and two, an illusion of some sort covering the thief.

-- Next, the thief apparently entered through the service entrance, made his or her way through several back areas including offices as well as a couple of display areas. A good number of minutes was spent in the Metallurgy room, before the illusion's traces returned out the service entrance, down the alley, and across a street, where its traces faded.

-- Night Marshal determined that despite the case being both sizeable and a two-key job, a talented acrobat with an agile foot /could/ have possibly turned both keys at the same time, then opened the case.

-- However, the Metallurgy room's cases and floor were cleaned (and the latter waxed), eliminating pretty much any chance at prints or other evidence. This, however, established the possible time of the theft, putting it between just around midnight (the guards' most recent walk-through) and the floor polishing that started at twelve-thirty.

-- (Offscreen) During that time, the security tapes only show two members of the cleaning staff coming through, changing out the garbage before cleaning up the display cases and glass.

-- The main lead, however, seems to be the engraved silver mite -- a piece of magic-in-a-can that Grimm and Night Marshal suspected might be the work of one Evan McGowrie, a known (to them) mystic artificer.

For Grimm, tracking Evan down isn't ... terribly difficult; they know his Bayside Dorm location, they have his legal guardian's name and number -- and, you know, there are spells for that kind of thing. It's just a matter of deciding how to go about locating him.

Felix, finished with getting some parts for and repairing some parts for the owner of the junkyard, hops back over the fence. He looks around, sees no one, then shifts back to Evan and begins to rummage through his messenger bag for something.

His bag of loot (a wire harness and some fried but repairable computer chips and boards) rest in the refrigeated bag that earlier held a steak at his feet.

Night Marshal tracks Felix to the junkyard with Grimm's help. They do arrive too late to see the change, but not too later to see Evan. They appear inside the fence, via a Grimm-produced gate.

Night Marshal nods and says to Grimm, "We don't know it's him. But...it's possible."

"Magical artificers are a short list. But you're right. We don't know for sure. Yet," Grimm comments.

Night Marshal nods to Grimm, and walks over toward Evan. He leaves his pistol holstered, for the time being.

The teen seems to hear something then looks around. He cannot make out details (why did I take the *blleping* goggles off, he thinks). He looks down at the bag at his feet then at the approaching dark figures, then just waits...but makes sure his class ring is ready.

Night Marshal takes a deep breath. "Evan. We need to have a word with you. Ask you some questions."

Grimm's senses the power of the ring. "And I really recommend you not use that," she nods to his hand.

Evan recognizes Grimm's voice but not the man's. He glances over at Grimm. "Only if I get attacked first, mum," he says in his lightly accented West Coast English. "As fur questions...well, why not? Do you mind if I get out a flashlight?"

His tone of voice is not as confident as his words, but he's still remarkably calm for a teen confronted at night by two metas.

Grimm cringes at the nickname. "Christ, I'm not your mum, kid. Or -anyone's-, for that matter. Is your flashlight a weapon like that ring of yours is?"

There are street lights in the area; one, in fact, which was blown out a few weeks ago by a certain /someone/ attempting mechanical work inside the junkyard behind Evan. That one has, however, been repaired (albeit with a somewhat sub-standard bulb), and makes a bit of less-than-proper-street-light illumination a few dozen meters along the way.

Night Marshal folds his arms. "The science museum break-in. Did you have something to do with that? It has your kind of handiwork all over it."

Evan blinks then says in a confused voice, "Um, what museum breakin?" He then rallies. "And by handiwork do you mean a cunning combination of magick and tech? 'Cause I'm real curious to suss out what my style is. Cannot ever tell how others see you after all, right?"

He then adds, "And no, it's not a weapon. It's so I can see at night. I'm not naturally skilled that way, ya ken?" His Scots comes through a bit more.

Grimm nods once. "It practically has your magical fingerprints all over it." She makes a dismissive wave off to her side, and the area slowly illuminates. Not daylight levels, but enough that they can comfortably see. "I think I'd rather you not touch any of your enchanted gear."

A non-theft at the museum! Magical doodads! Tracking spells! Junkyards! Inquisitions!

Night Marshal lists the time of the break-in. "Where were you at the time?"

Evan just gives one of those put upon sighs that teens are so good at. "Fine," he says as he stops opening his bag. "And what time would that be...Night Sheriff? No, that's not right, it's..." He frowns slightly. "I know I know this."

Evan just gives one of those teenaged sighs-of-the-put-upon at Grimm's words and sets down the bag. He then looks over at Night Marshal. "I was working on...something. At a friend's house, Night...Night Sheriff? No, that's not right, it's..." He frowns. "I know I know this."

Night Marshal says, "It's Night Marshal. I reckon you knew that, though...and are trying to be annoying on purpose." Curiously, he sounds...patient. Not annoyed at all.

"Can your friend give a statement to provide you an alibi? Or their parents?" Grimm asks Evan.

Evan says in a dry tone, "I have to work at this you know, being a normal teen. And normal teens don't, among a lot of shick, know the names of every known meta listed as acting in the greater Colonial Bay area."

His gaze then turns to Grimm. "No, they were asleep. And their parents are out of town. I, hmm, well I suppose my guardian knew where I was. He keeps tabs on me."

Night Marshal isn't a meta. But he doesn't bother correcting Evan this time. There's little point. "Great. How would we get in touch with him?"

"Ms Grimm should have his number. I gave it to her and Detective Carpenter, dinna I?" says Evan with a glance at her. "I can give it again. He'll want to know that someone thinks I'm robbing a museum." His lips then thin. "And robbing a museum? Only if it's run by thieves. And you say my magickal 'fingerprints' were all over it, huh? I wasn't aware I had any."

Night Marshal looks to Grimm, as she's the magical expert of the two of them.

"Yeah. So I suppose I'll have to give him a call and arrange a visit," Grimm sighs. "Does he know you're here now?"

"Not precisely, no. He knows I go out late at night. I have what people call insomnia," Evan admits.

"I get around by maglev. Mostly," he qualifies.

Grimm pulls out her phone and goes through her contacts list. "Ah, here we go. Chalmers Hornbeck. That's such a weird name, but definitely hard to forget."

The teen shrugs. "He's Canadian. They're weird. You heard of that poutine stuff they eat? Yech."

Night Marshal nods slowly, and looks to Grimm, "Go ahead and give the guy a call."

Grimm nods and taps the number to call.

"Hello? How may I assist you?" is the response when the phone is answered. It's a baritone man's voice with a bit of a faint echo over the line, but probably just that's he's in an echo-ey room. He sounds a bit distracted.

Evan rolls his eyes and settles into a teen's slump at the antics of adults. It's almost a parody of how teens normally act. Those skilled at readiing body language might note that he's not nearly as relaxed as he's acting.

"Yes, hello. This is Gabrielle Grimm, I'm a consultant with the CBPD. Is this the guardian of Evan McMasters, Chalmers Hornbeck?" Grimm asks.

Chalmers responds with a sigh, "Yes, this is he. What has Evan been up to now?"

Grimm smirks faintly. "Well, currently, he's been caught in a junkyard after hours. But in addition, can you tell me where he was on the night of..." and she rattles off the date and time of the art museum heist incident.

Night Marshal waits patiently, listening to this half of the conversation. He still glances over at Evan every so often.

Grimm steps back closer to Night Marshal, ending up alongside him and holding the phone so he can listen in at the same time. She doesn't put it on speaker phone yet, to leave Evan squirming.

"He's at a junkyard? Of course he's at a junkyard. Where else would he be at this time of night," Chalmers mutters. He then speaks up as he says, "Last night? Well, as far as I know he was down in the workshop. He secretes himself there quite often working on various projects. I know he was there at 1AM when I checked on him."

And Even is obviously quite curious and hiding it poorly.

Night Marshal nods as he listens, having formed a bit of a theory about Evan at this point.

Grimm purses her lips. She knows this kid has tricks up his sleeve, so she's still sus. "And that was the last time you saw him that night?"

"Hmm, I saw him about 3AM when he started his night rounds of cleaning. He claims since he's up he might as well clean," replies Chalmers.

Night Marshal raises a brow, and looks over at Evan. "The kid's got a thiry year old soul."

Grimm narrows her eyes. She's even more suspicious. No kid just cleans up. "Uh huh. Okay. Should I help escort him home?"

The teen in question looks back at Night Marshal. "What? And no, I don't. I know if I did," he grumbles.

"I know my way home," Even grouses.

"If you feel it would be best, Ms Grimm. I don't feel qualified to second guess the police. Is he in trouble? Should I contact a lawyer?" says Chalmers.

Night Marshal takes a deep breath, "I don't think walking him home is necessary."

"I'm not an officer, just a consultant," Grimm clarifies, not wanting to impersonate one. "I think he's clear, but you are free to contact a lawyer if you think it's necessary. I'm not detaining him. He's free to head home if he leaves the junkyard." She doesn't want to babysit the kid home, personally, and nods in agreement with Night Marshal.

In an undertone, Evan grouses, "I was leaving the junkyard. After giving fair trade for shick I need." He nudges his bag. "Wiring harness and a bagful of fried computer chips."

"As you think best, Ms Grimm. I'll wait up for him. Well, I was going to be in any case, but I'll keep an ear out for him," says Chalmers. "Thank you for calling and letting me know what happening."

"Have a nice evening." Grimm hangs up. "Well...your story checks out."

Evan nods slightly. "Cool. So, what was it I was supposed to have stolen? Was it at least valuable and or interesting? I personally like collecting old weapons and armor and learning from them."

Night Marshal nods to Grimm, "He's hiding plenty. But I don't' think he's lying about not having been in the museum."

"I mean. He's a teenager," Grimm replies to Night Marshal. "But I think you're right." She looks to Evan. "Funny you should say that. It was an old weapon."

Evan blinks. "Really? Hmm, and which museum? And what type of weapon? I think I've seen most that are on display in CB." His gaze seem to focus elsewhere. "Was it that 17th century rapier with the supposed ruby in the pommel, cause I doubt it ruby. Probably tanzanite."

Night Marshal nods. "Science museum. A Hessian bayonet. In the metallurgy section."

Grimm slips her phone into her pocket. "18th century spearhead. Hessian manufacture."

The teen nods then asks, "So, is it really of Hessian manufacture or just Hessian in origin. I mean, the Hessians bought a lot of weapons from the Berliners and the Austrians. They had some local manufacture, but, well, not a lot. They sold soldiers not weapons." He actually seems somewhat engaged and animated with curiosity.

"And it's probably a socket bayonet. They used those a lot. Looks like a spearhead that fits into the barrel of a musket."

Night Marshal thinks about it. "Hessian manufacture. And yeah, it's that kind of bayonet."

"Hmm, don't recall that at the museum...." His look grows distant for a moment. "Oh, I bet it was in the display that said 'Closed for Conservation'. Huh. Arid."

The teen then adds, "But why steal it? I mean, it's not a rare collectible. Probably only a few hundred, maybe a few thousand if it was used by or on someone famous."

Night Marshal nods. "There's a lot about it that doesn't make any sense. Why steal it? Why replace it? It's almost like it's more of a prank to see if someone could get away with it, rather than having an actual goal."

"There was also an engraved silver mite. Seemed a bit similar to what was involved in your past situation," Grimm says to Evan.

Evan looks up at the dim light of the street lamp as he muses, "Or because it concealed something or has a message in it." He then looks to Grimm. "Really. Arid. Do you have it? Maybe I could suss it out. Was it fooling something? That's a good use for magick when channeled into silver. It's the changeable nature of the metal."

Grimm pulls out her phone again and flips through a few pictures. She double taps to zoom in and holds out the phone to the kid, but does not let him take her phone. And makes sure he doesn't try and swipe on her screen.

The imagery shot by Grimm of the tiny silver coin -- or perhaps just disc -- shows a number of elegant engravings on both sides. The coin (if that is indeed what it is) would be considered to have a significant flaw, in that A spur of the metal looks to have remained -- like a tag left over from injection molding.

Night Marshal watches Evan's reactions to the picture.

Evan nods. "This is arid. It's def designed to conceal or fool a sensor or an alarm into thinking it's not triggered. An elegant intersection between tech and magick. See this protruding 'tag' here at the edge? That's actually part of the design. It lets a mundane person activate it even though it'd normally take a mage to empower it. Like a switch."

The teen then frowns. "And I cannae place the, ah, style. It's fancy, so maybe Baroque Italian. It has a def Rococco vibe."

"I mean, it's serious, dramatic and heavy like Baroque in its physical, ah, shape, but also def light and airy and decorative in its runework like Rococo," adds the teen. "I'm not sure who'd make shick like this."

Night Marshal nods as he listens. This is well outside of his wheelhouse.

Grimm frowns as she listens. "Doesn't sound familiar to me. You're the closest to come up with something like this. I don't think it'd be the Toymaster's style, but I haven't seen any of his devices personally."

Evan looks at Grimm. "The who? The Toymaster? Sounds, um, twisted, in a perv-zoned way."

Grimm thinks a bit more on what Evan said and looks at it again. "Wait...not rococo...no wonder I never even frickin' thought of it. It's fae style magic, but this is a frickin' dwarven design. Or...I guess a fae execution of one. Which just makes no sense. They despise dwarves."

Night Marshal tilts his head, "Do they?"

Evan blinks. "Really? I wonder if it's 'cause of the beards?"

"Totally," Grimm says to Night Marshal. "I mean, the Fae seem to dislike anything not fae, but they're like super racist against dwarves. I don't exactly know the history. But this...this is too dainty to be made by a dwarf."

Night Marshal nods. "Maybe someone well travelled who apprenticed with both fae and dwarves?"

Evan listens attentively to the discussion. He doesn't even try to be disinterested.

"It'd take....lifetimes to study both crafts." Gabrielle frowns a bit. "Which maybe the person who crafted this had. Though with such a simple mechanism to use it, I doubt the crafter and the end user are the same."

Night Marshal nods. "So...whoever made it is old. Studied with multiple people. And made it for someone else."

Evan murmurs, "Hmm, sounds like you've got a magickal artificer of the immortal variety selling to people. But, still doesn't explain why steal a Hessian socket bayonet." He then says in an attempt at an offhand manner, "If only you had access to a magick smith who has knowledge of both metallurgy and the archaic weapons..."

Night Marshal looks to Evan. "Subtle. Are you asking to help us?"

Grimm tries to hide a grin at Night Marshal calling Evan out. The kid's a smartass. He reminds her of...well, her a bit. Poor Night Marshal.

Evan says with a shrug and a smirk, "I'm almost as young as I seem, Night Marshal. Subtlety is something one gains with age. I'm supposed to be bright and brash, so I am." He then considers. "Volunteer? That means no pay, right? Hmm, why not? I should cultivate good will with nups of power and influence it seems."

Night Marshal shrugs, "It's not like we're getting paid for this either. So, you're in good company."

Grimm sighs in agreeable lament.

Evan looks at the two of you then asks, "Then why do it? Why take the risks you do when whatever's happening doesn't affect those you care for?" His tone is not flat, not mocking, just quietly questioning.

Night Marshal takes a deep breath, and nods, letting it out slowly while he thinks about the question. "For me...it's about a couple of things. First, it's about justice, and making sure that those doing evil get caught and put away. Second...it's about doing it right. Too many metas are sloppy, and criminals are let loose due to technicalities. The dangerous criminals need to be taken off the streets and put away."

Grimm knows her answer. "Because I've had a lot of terrible shick happen in my life, and I don't want it happening to others if I can do something about it. Maybe it won't affect the people I care for. But maybe one day if I just ignore it, it will." She shrugs and grinds her foot a little into the ground.

The teen listens to the two of you then nods. He then murmurs, "I don't have any idea who could have made this. I don't know much about the Fae or dwarves. I know a bit about the svartalfar, but those are different from Fae and dwarves...at least, I'm pretty certain." He glances at the image of the mite. "Maybe someone at that Fae embassy would know?

"I mean, it's made for a mundane. And none of them are mundane are they? So, how many Fae or dwarven artificers can there be on Earth? And they'd have to come through the Embassy, right?" asks Evan.

"I'd think that'd be a short list, but I can't think of any." Gabrielle scrunches up her nose. "Frak. I hate dealing with the Fae. But I guess that's where the investigation leads."

Night Marshal nods, and looks to Grimm, "Know anyone at the embassy? I don't."

"And, if it turns out that someone, some Fae or dwarf, is supplying magickal thieve's and assassin tools to mundanes, well, they'd want to know right? I mean, I doubt they're all unicorn hippy types, but still, trade secrets and shick, right?" adds the teen.

Grimm frowns. "Kind of. I know Titan in passing. But...man, it's been years. I doubt he even knows who I am." She looks to Evan and nods. "They wouldn't be too happy about it. Hah, and no, they're not unicorn hippy types at all. Wrong fae, kid."

"But, can I get a look at the forgery that was left? I really might be able to figure something out," Evan reiterates.

Grimm sighs at Evan's question. "Unfortunately...the forgery is still locked up at the museum. It's hard to convince a mundane museum that their artifact is a magical duplicate."

Evan nods then asks, "So, is it stealing to take a forged duplicate of something that's been stolen? I'm just wondering is all."

Night Marshal raises a brow. "Yes, it likely would count."

Evan raises his hands in a warding off gesture. "Arid. I just ask as I'm ethically if not morally challenged as my guardian has said. I'm just getting clarification."

"It's...probably an understandable gray area," Grimm admits. "But on technicality, it'd count."