Part 11: The Louvre

: Our first destination is evidence-collection at Salle du Tibre.



: If I understand Cocorico's notes correctly, this is the room the King and his entourage stopped in before heading to the Grande Galerie. This room doesn't seem to be very popular. I don't see anybody around to interrogate.

: Interview.

: Right. Interview.

: Well, since it's quiet, maybe we should take the opportunity to do a little snooping.

: What would be the point? Surely all the interesting evidence would be in the Grande Galerie, where the murder took place.

: Think about it, Falcon. The police would have already gone over the Grande Galerie with a fine-toothed comb. But I bet that numb-skull Inspector Volerti didn't even think to check this room for clues. There might be a murder weapon just under our beaks!

: Your logic seems a little questionable, but it couldn't hurt to have a look, I suppose.



: These columns have been designed to look Roman. I think the style is ionic.

: It's not ionic, Falcon. Iony is when a character says something, but the reader knows it means something completely different.

: That's not... never mind.



: A supporting column. It's holding the roof up.

: If the column were truly supportive, it wouldn't hold the roof up. It would encourage the roof to get to its location on time.

: ~Sigh~



: I see a cabinet full of engraved plates. Mostly bronze.

: How much do you think they are worth?

: I don't know. Three hundred francs apiece, at least.

: What?! Are you serious? I'm in the wrong profession.

: I don't think archaeology works as a get-rich-quick scheme, Sparrowson.

: Who said anything about archaeology? I'm going to become a museum robber.

: Oh. Well, that's one way to get rich quick.



: This is some sort of ceremonial container. It's beautifully crafted, but what did it contain? Maybe it's an arcane wine cabinet.

: Don't be so ignorant, Falcon. This is a sacred Mesopotamian artifact, gifted to Emperor Hadrian for his victory at Euphrates in 123 AD.

: Stop making stuff up. You and I both know nothing about Mesopotamia.

: Alright, alright. You got me. This could be a hippo's chamber pot for all I know.



: I'm not sure what this is. Some sort of stand or podium? Maybe it's just a decorative piece.

: It's a Roman doorstop. Roman doors were enormous marble slabs, so the doorstops had to be similarly large in order to stay in place.

: I don't think that's right...

: My uncle's a Roman historian. Trust me.




: A shiny, copper urn. I guess it was used for carrying water. Or for cremated remains. Probably not both at the same time.

: It smells good.

: Don't sniff the exhibits, Sparrowson.

: No, really. This urn smells amazing. It's almost... chocolaty.

: You poor thing. You're hallucinating from hunger. Would you like to stop by a bakery on our way back to the office?

: Don't patronize me, Falcon! My nose never lies. I'm telling you, there's something in here! I can feel it.

: Now you're touching the exhibit? That's definitely a no-no.



: Put that down, Sparrowson. It's someone's old rubbish.

: No, look! It's a chocolate wrapper! Judging by the smell, the chocolate was bitter and dark. Seventy, perhaps eighty percent cocoa. Belgian in origin. The level of wrapper crumpling and firmness of the chocolate residue indicate that this was discarded just a few days ago. Yes... I am certain. The chocolate contained in this wrapper was undoubtedly consumed on the 7th of January, the day of the murder.

: Mon Dieu, Sparrowson! You deduced all that from smelling the wrapper?

: Imagine what I could work out if I tasted it.

: That won't be necessary. Sparrowson, if you could apply this level of critical thinking to areas outside of food, you would be the world's greatest detective.

: If only all evidence were edible...

: So, do you have any idea which shop this chocolate was purchased from? That might help us track down the person who consumed it.

: No, there's no possible way we could know that. I suppose we will just have to visit every confectioner in town and sample every bit of merchandise for comparison. What a chore.

: Interesting. Because I can see "Lander Hagelslak's Chocolate Emporium" written on the wrapper.

: Well, you can't blame a bird for trying.



: We're done here. For now, at least.

: We can't spend all day staring at Roman artifacts, I suppose. So, where to next?





: I believe the murder occurred right under the new painting.

: I see hundreds of paintings. Which one is the new one?

: I haven't the foggiest. We will have to ask someone.





: (I don't want any attention... maybe he isn't talking to me...)







: Oh. Uh. Hi!

: Would you happen to know which painting was unveiled on the 7th of January? The one the king came to visit?

: Oh, yeah! I can help you with that. It’s the piece right behind you.



: That's one noble looking penguin. What do you think of it, Falcon?

: What do I think? Well, I'm no art critic, but...



: The careful brushstrokes. The pre-Raphelite soft tones and the subliminal use of light... This is contrasted, nuanced work. It’s an evocative painting that alludes to a forgotten era.

: You said a lot of words, but I’m not sure if I'm any closer to knowing your opinion.

: I’m getting the impression that you messieurs aren't regulars at art galleries.

: No. We're a right pair of philistines.



: Then, I'm guessing you’re here to investigate the Kings assassination attempt?

: That’s right. We were actually hoping we could ask you a couple of questions about what you saw.

: Oh, I wasn’t even in Paris when the murder took place. I didn’t see anything. But, uh...



: What's this? “R&M Associates, the home of Renard Vulpes, private investigator”? Thank you, but I don’t normally deal with these grey-area-of-the-law-types.

: No, please give the guy a chance! He helped me out of a bind before, and I'm sure he can do the same for you!

: Well, I'm not making any promises, but I'll keep hold of the card. We appreciate the help, in any case.

: It’s no trouble.



: Thank you for your time, monsieur.

: Is there anything else we can do here?

: Well, ideally we would turn the whole Grande Galerie upside-down in our hunt for evidence. But that's not possible with so many people around. We should probably just move to another room.



: Obviously, I go right back.

: It looks like that porcupine fellow has left the building.

: Did you want to ask him something?

: Nothing in particular. I just wanted some more details on this “Renard Vulpes”, but I suppose well have to leave it for now.

: On to the gardens!





Nothing seems out of the ordinary, until they spot a familiar face picking up litter by a tree line.

: Hey, Falcon. Doesn’t that groundskeeper over there look familiar?

: Yeah... Now that I’m looking at him, he does look a lot like that photographer.. what’s-his-name...



: Salador Serenado!

: ...

: That’s not his name. Actually, I’m pretty sure that's not anybody’s name. You just spewed a word-stew.

: Try Robittio Robinio.

: Hmm?

Goofy

: Did someone call me? Oh, it’s you. The lawyers who don't appreciate a masterful photograph when they see it.

: It's good to see that you gave up on your artsy dreams to pursue the more grounded career of groundskeeping.

: Hey, I'm not doing this willingly. I was given community service for committing perjury. Can you believe that? They gave me, an esteemed photographer, community service. Me!

: Yeah, I can believe that.

: Perjury's somewhat serious. You should be thankful that you got off without jail time.

: Pfft. You sound just like that self-righteous Judge Maxime. So, did you two want to ask me something, or are you just here to gawp?

: Personally, I'm just gawping.



: I don't suppose you've bumped into a Spanish fox who goes by the name of prince Juan, have you?

: A Spanish fox? No, I've never met anyone like that. If this is about that assassination attempt on the king, then you're asking the wrong person. I only started working here today.

: I see.

: Was there anything else you wanted?

: So, how’s that new groundskeeping job working out?

: Terrible Tourists are pigs! Sometimes literally! Look at all this rubbish I've found. Beer bottles, tin cans, apple cores...



: A whole book I could understand, but a single page? What kind of blithering moron loses just one page?

: Wait a moment. May I take a closer look at that, monsieur?

: ...Don Quixote... That's a page from Don Quixote!

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> : May I take it off your hands, monsieur?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>: Sure. What’s it worth to you?

: What's it worth? It's trash. It's literally worthless.

: Then I suppose I'll be destroying it, as per my duties...





: I'll speak with Judge Maxime. I'll put in a good word, and might be able to get your sentence reduced.

: Really? You’ll do that for me? Thank you, monsieur. I would really appreciate that. Here, take the page!



: Do you want to ask anything else?

: That's all. We'll let you get back to your work, Monsieur Robinio.



: Leave, come back.





: Are we done here?



: Good call. We can always come back later, if we've forgotten something.