Isle of Golstran
51st of Kusha, the month of Harvest.
2290 Years since the New gods came.
From the Journal of Aaron Fish
I met a late middle-aged man with a silvering beard, wearing an ink and coffee-stained robe this morning, the man also smelled faintly of clean air and fish bait. When I asked him what he was here for, he replied that he was from the “Head” temple and handed me a document. Upon reading the document, I was able to determine two things: First, he was from The Head Temple; Second, that he was here to review the accounting books for an official audit.
On the way to the accounting room, we met the head deacon, who, upon reading the proffered document, turned very pale and fainted. I have a theory that this “head temple” must be exceedingly important.
I have received a list of all who were/are still absent from the temple here.
Ms. Angela, secretary to the deceased.
Mr. Johnson, stable master.
Miss Edmon, apprentice to the kitchen.
Sister Holt, head of the acolytes.
I plan to start with Ms. Angela.
-
Ms. Angela lived in a small cottage some four miles from the temple. I was “rustic” but in good repair, Aaron noted as he approached the building on foot. He knocked on the roughhewn wood of the door, and waited a few moments before knocking a second time.
The door was answered by a young man, who, after looking Aaron up and down a couple of times yelled, “Ma, I think it’s for you!” and scampered off.
A younger woman, perhaps in her late twenties, stepped to the door holding a newborn infant to her chest, “What can I do for you, sir?”
“Ms. Angela, I presume?” Aaron asked, “I am Aaron Fish, in the employ of Lord Smithson, and under assignment to the local temple of Wisdom.”
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
Ms. Angela started at the names being used, then turned white, “If…if it’s about the money, I can explain! ---”
“Deacon Gregory is dead.” Aaron interrupted the woman, then grabbed the infant as Ms. Angela collapsed to the floor.
-
From the Journal of Aaron Fish, continued.
Once she awoke from her faint, Ms. Angela was very forthcoming about her embezzlement. She had been caught by deacon Gregory last month, but was allowed to continue as she had lost her husband just before the embezzlement started, and needed the money to repair her small home and prep it for the new child she had found to be on the way.
Ms. Angela produced a document to prove that the embezzlement had been noted and once the child was of a reasonable age, the family as a whole would work to repay the monies owed. She was rightly terrified of being blamed for the murder of deacon Gregory, and when her son heard us talking, he ran screaming from the house as children do when they find out something bad has happened to a loved one.
Due to both of their reactions, and the fact that Ms. Angela is barely able to move, I will cross her and her family off the list of suspects.
I will next try to interview the Stable Master, one Mr. Johnson, but I fear that will be hard to do as he hasn’t shown up to work for the last four five days.
-
Mr. Johnson’s office was cluttered with knickknacks, debris and detritus of the horse trade. There were several winning medals on the wall for races the stable had wone under his management. The sheer difference between the office and the immaculately clean stable was a true surprise to Aaron as a groom showed him around for the “copper” tour.
“Has Mr. Johnson been back at all for the last five days?” Aaron asked the boy.
“No sir!” the boy responded, “And the ladies and gents are starting to worry.”
“Ladies and gents?” Aaron asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“The horses! That’s what Johnson always calls them.” The boy responded with a gap-toothed grin. “He always said “You have to show them respect, if you want respect.” Not that it worked for any but him. Most of the time.”
“That’s interesting.” Replied Aaron. “Who else did it seem to work for?”
The boy smiled for a moment, then frowned, “Jockey Jim usually gets on with them, as did brother John.”
“Did?” Aaron asked.
“He died two years ago.” The boy responded. “I miss him.”
Aaron frowned, “Oh. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks.” Replied the boy, a small tear making its way down his dust covered face.
Aaron shook his head, then returned to his questioning, “Would anyone else have noticed if Mr. Johnson had shown up?”
Smiling with the change of subject the boy replied, “No, I’m the only one here this week. Jim only shows up when there’s to be a race.”
“Then Jim hasn’t been around lately?” Aaron continued.
“Nope! …Wait, no, I think I saw him stop by and talk to Mr. Johnson on the day…” The boy started to weep.
“It’s okay lad.” Aaron gently patted the boy on the head. “I’ll let you get back to the ladies and gents.”
“Thanks mister.” The boy wiped his eyes and walked away, then turned around, “Hey mister? We’re actually missing a wagon and a team of ladies, Ms. Betsy and Ms. Moon.”
-
From the Journal of Aaron Fish, continued, again.
Another suspect has been added to the list, a mister “Jockey Jim”. The rest of the individuals on my list have been checked and vetted. I will begin looking for this “Jim” person in the morning.