Somewhere in the office, Archer heard the telltale sound of Rufus making friends with Bailey.   The Krup-Labrador mix was not on Bailey’s list of favorite things about the office nowadays something about how he got bitten by a dog before...  Honestly, Archer couldn’t have been bothered to listen to the story.  The man was an auror. 

Merlin. 

Shaking his head, he returned his eyes to the bagged evidence and photographs on the examination room table.  It wasn’t in use and there was much more room there than at his cubicle. 

Between the museum and the bank it was hard to keep the two separate.  Somehow he’d gone from investigating homicides to theft… if he had been relying on history, he would have said it was usually the opposite.  It seemed like they could be related… but… it was also entirely possible they had nothing to do with one another.

After all, the apples, from what he had gleaned, were not goblin made.  Scandinavian and completely removed from the Harvest mask.  But, a collector might not care… there were so many different possibilities and the runic (or far less subtle) warnings left behind…

Just what were they looking at? 

Archer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers.  He’d tried to reach out to the cursebreaker, St. Just, but she was hard to get in contact with – to top it off any communication he got in return was affected.  There was no information coming by way of the breaker, or the goblins. 

He focused his attention on the notes from Rosier and Cohen from Morocco.  It’d been fruitless… but perhaps there was a lead… something?  Breathing through his nose, Archer would be reaching out again in the span of the day, and then setting off for the museum again. 

And in the midst of it, that dog Rufus'd managed to knock over Auror Bailey's bin and was now chomping away loudly, head engulfed in wadded up paper and other bits and things.  And Bailey, there, just swatting at the thing.  Good god, the man was an auror. 

So this is what that Auror reputation had come from.  We shook his head in dismay, made a quick right and paused--taking a moment to observe Auror Radley in his native habitat, undisturbed.  Papers everywhere, pinched face... Riordan rapping two knuckles sharply on the doorjamb. 

"I think your dog's found some dark magic in those bins," Riordan pointed firmly out the door to the guilty party.  He paused a moment before seating himself in the chair across from Archer's desk, giving a belated--but unapologetic--"May I?" as he straightened his robes somewhat. 

He pulled out a legal pad.  Honestly, one of the better Muggle inventions compared to the stray bits and pieces of handmade parchment most of the Ministry used.  "I wanted to touch base with you about the progress on the various goblins and Gringotts' cases.  I believe you're supervising most of them."  He glanced over the various memos, written in Radley's sharply written penmanship.  "The Golden Apples, the Harvest Mask, the fallout from Dreogan Eleanor's return--have we heard back from Gringotts' on any of them?"

“Glad he’s found it somewhere,” Archer retorted with a sideways smile.  It was no secret to anyone who frequented the auror office that Archer had his mind set on training Rufus to sniff out dark magic – remnants of curses left behind or dark objects.  There were days of varying levels of success, but it appeared Rufus was much better at greeter duty than sniffing duty.  He was still young yet though, and Archer was persistent if anything.

Couldn’t be bothered to work on it today though, not with the stacks of information he had and absolutely nothing to go off of.  Nodding to Riordan’s query about coming in, Archer raised his eyebrow at the paper he produced.  Archer could understand the use of such a thing… but he was set in his ways.  He liked parchment, it made sense to him. 

The thin paper would rip easily… and it was so strangely colored: an odd almost bright yellow.  To each their own, he supposed.  It wasn’t as though Riordan’s proclivity toward muggle stationary inhibited his job performance, and as such, Archer didn’t comment.  Besides, it seemed with the stack of paper came purpose. 

It was a small kindness to have a lack of formality – or a written piece of paper suggesting an update was necessary.  With the flack the auror office had been receiving as of late for dropped quaffles of investigations, it wouldn’t do well to leave a paper trail.  Listening to Tamis had put him acutely in the mind of the political slant to all of this: not that he wanted that at all.  He was content with his job, to have to worry about perceptions and public opinion… that was for the others.

Which he supposed was why he was being approached, and for everyone’s best interest, discreetly.  “Much of the trail has gone cold,” Archer admitted freely, “I’ve been in correspondence with the Goblins and a representative of Gringott’s, but communication is,” he looked over at Riordan with a disgruntled expression, “as usual, cryptic at best.” 

He motioned to the stack of correspondence – copies of the letters he had sent with the replies (always keeping accurate records) on each in separately labeled bags to keep all evidence from contaminating other pieces.  “It’s not entirely evident if the thefts are related or not, but the goblins seemed to suggest they might have something on the mask, at the very least.  My intention was to get to Gringott’s this afternoon.”

Archer mulled his jaw for a moment before crossing his arms over his chest, letting out a deep breath.  “I don’t suppose I’m lucky enough that you came here with the go ahead for an arrest on any of it, eh?” 

“Glad he’s found it somewhere,” Archer quipped.  Riordan's response was instantaneous.  "Ah, don't give me that.  You'll have plenty of opportunity--maybe take him out in the field and away from sandwiches and rubbish bins?"  Archer Radley was thorough.  He liked that.  He was reliable--by far the straightest shooter of Level Two, in his opinion.  But the man had repeatedly turned down promotions--leaving others previously below him to now vastly outrank him.  All to keep active in the field, and--well... if he'd reached a brick wall, Riordan'd do what he could to provide a battering ram.
 
Apparently that battering ran was an arrest warrant.  "I don’t suppose I’m lucky enough that you came here with the go ahead for an arrest on any of it, eh?”

"Ho, no," he said, shaking a finger in the air at Archer as he leaned back in the chair.  "No, you've got to give me a suspect first." he again began tapping the pad with each word, "And damn good evidence."  He took a moment to jot down something on the pad. A line for the Apples Case, the Mask Case, and the Dreogan Eleor Case, which was as good as closed now, with the man in hand.  "Right.  Tell you what, do what you can to focus on the Mask Case.  That's a priority--for sure, we need to have a product on that." A conviction, a settlement, a filed complaint--something, by God.  "Our Lazarus stayed dead--and as he's Wizengamot, press and Ministry are like to revisit it and dig up the corpse, so to speak. Best have a handle on it, when it comes."

"But I'll tell ya what," Riordan nodded, "if you fill out the paperwork," he said with a subtle emphasis, "I can get our lawyers working on the necessary search warrants and summons--once you know what it is you'd like to set Rufus on."  He paused a moment.  The only person who grumbled about paperwork more than Edward Pratt was Archer Radley.  Time to give the man a break and offer a sacrificial lamb."Eleor likes paperwork."

This last bit was--inexplicably--true.  The Israeli import seemed to delight in minutiae.  Which was convenient, since Riordan fully intended him to be busy with such supervised activities as paperwork, court orders, and interviews for at least the next month.  Riordan didn't even mind the waste of muscle--Level Two had it in spades, particularly with the likes of Omari--if it meant keeping Eleor directly in the line of sight. 

He added, cautiously, "Err, he was at the murder scene, right?" He tapped his finger on the notepad.  "If it would be a help, drag him along to anything that's useful to you.  Or don't," he added with a swish of his hand.  "He's still rather hostile towards the Goblins, so best not to take him onsite."  Hostile didn't begin to cover the little rampage he pulled with his vigilanteism.  If they were not so short-staffed...

"Up to you. I can find you another, if you prefer. Some fresh-faced, bright-eyed trainee or other?" He looked at Radley, simultaneously scrawling several lines beneath the one labeled Goblin Mask:

     -additional resources
     -warrant
     -SME

  "I cin get you a subject matter expert in here, for sure.  An auror or trainee or two, I'll even rattle the cages of Gringotts a little for this.  Will that give you a start?"  He paused. "Didn't you have that German professor killing cattle or something or other in the countryside? What came from that?"

Archer sniffed at the idea tha the needed a suspect first.  He had an idea, but there was no real evidence yet.  Circumstances could not be entirely held against a person, and though St. Just always seemed to have an answer, he guessed people in her line of work typically did.  Gringotts played with the line of criminality more often than not, and he could only imagine the circumstances that led to this. 

He agreed with Riordan though, the mask was a priority.  It was open longest and the lead was the coldest.  It would only be a matter of time before something else happened and it reflected badly on the department.  Archer tried to put an end to things quickly, and the fact that this was dragging on for more than a year…

It was sigh worthy to think about.  As if Rippringham-Gomfrey hadn’t been a headache enough, Riordan had a point.  “I should have something in the next couple of days,” Archer informed him.  Though, he was not sure if he was informing Riordan because he needed the information or if Archer needed to assure himself he was going to do it. 

It was just time.  He was sick of this case hanging open.  It was practically taunting him.  His superior was interested in being helpful, and even before he could groan about how he was going to have to do the paperwork, he volunteered Adon for it.  A smile crept onto Archer’s face and he shook his head, usually his hair would be cropped short enough that it wouldn’t move, but now it was brushing against his forehead.  He needed a cut. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Archer said in earnest, he certainly would.

Besides, he shouldn’t go to Gringotts.  Riordan seemed to echo the thought that went through Archer’s mind and he lowered his hands, squaring his feet and clasping his right hand over his left wrist behind his back.  “In an effort to try and even get into the bank, I think I’ll leave Eleor behind,” he commented wryly.  There was no doubt in Archer’s mind Gringotts would close their doors to them if he brought the Israeli along.  Besides, he wanted to keep it small, and Adon did not have a propensity toward subtlety. 

“One of the newbies will be fine,” Archer shrugged.  “A quiet one,” he added.  “St Just is dodgy as it is.  Spook her and I won’t get anything.”  Archer was already a bit of a force, but it was his investigation and he wasn’t going to let it into someone else’s hands.  “As for the sheep,” he expanded, “Not sure it’s wand magic – or something you could do with a wand at all.  Might be runes,” he explained, “though from where, is anyone’s guess right now.” Plus, the farmers were definitely starting to question and Muggle Excuses wasn’t really his strong suit. 

“S’one of the things I’d like to talk to the cursebreaker about,” he added, neglecting to mention he really would like to walk out with a collar, but it was unlikely.  “But, rattling cages might not be a bad idea,” he considered, frowning a little with strong thought.  Goblins would close ranks around themselves, but he was wondering how loyal they really were to their witch or wizard employees.  Rattled cages could tell them a lot, just by virtue of it being done.  Loyalties were, as far back as the Goblin Wars suggested, always with kin rather than money, but the two hand in hand… Recipe for potential break throughs.