Janey has a minion!

Minion the Glade Puppy

ID #795050 | Owner: Molly | Profile by Molly |

Headshot by Sayamilana
Stock from The Monkey Box

If you're here to see the doctor, you're out of luck. He's very busy at the moment - can't you hear his typewriter? - and I'm sure he doesn't need any trouble from the likes of you. I heard rumors that Detective Buren was digging all of this nonsense up, but I hardly believed it. If you must go around interrogating people about a decade-old murder, though, I'll have you know that you'll just be wasting your time here.

You explain to Janey that you're quite set on waiting for the doctor.Stubborn lot, you police officers. Fine, then I suppose you'd better take down a few notes on me in the meantime. Well, isn't that what detectives are supposed to do? I won't have you coming in here again just because you forgot to do it right the first time.

I'm from a broken family. My mother's dead, I imagine, but I never knew her. I have been an only child my entire life, adopted once upon a time and then quite forgotten about, left to fend for myself. I lived on the streets for a few years, while I finished school. I managed to hide it, spending a lot of time at the library or in the church, or washing my clothes at the laundromat, anything to pass the daylight hours before I'd sleep under the bridge. Everyone just thought I was studious, shy and a little bit strange. It was a promise I had made to myself, that I'd finish high school, and so I did, however simpler it would have been to simply quit.

As soon as I finished school, I took up working here for the doctor. He's a good man and I enjoy my work. So many people seem to pity me, because somewhere along the line, in this little town, 'housekeeper' became as disreputable a profession as any you might find on the streets of those big cities, lit up at all hours. It might have had to do with the rumors. I can't say where or when they began. It is, apparently, the general opinion of the women of the town that it is quite improper for a young lady such as myself, however ill-bred in their opinions, to be living with two unmarried men. You see, the doctor's lodger, Quincy, lives just upstairs. Now, I'll have you know that neither of them are anything but entirely courteous to me, but I suppose Quincy's reputation precedes him.

Now, this woman you're investigating? Katheryn? She was quite the worst. I was only nine when she died, but for all the years I knew her, she always had a disapproving look for me - or worse, one of pity. As if I had something for which to be sorry, being poor and having to take second-hand clothes and books for school. I'm sure she'd reserve that same look for me now, if she saw me. As if I were trading God knows what in exchange for a place to live, instead of good, old-fashioned housekeeping. I'm inclined to think that she was shallow and conceited, and not at all the kind of woman I would have wanted to associate with, in any case.

Look, the doctor isn't going to be able to see you for a while yet. Why don't you go upstairs and talk to Quincy? If you were any good at your job you would suspect him already, in any case. Go on.

{Go upstairs}