The Murder of Alexandre Delmore
Kingsley put on his favorite coat - a black tweed, double-lined and double-breasted number with flared tips. He took the last sip of his coffee, pursed his lips in the sour gravel of the grounds at the bottom, and Apparated to the scene.
He’d gotten a note that someone had been killed. One Alexandre Delmore, 42, Gringotts Guard and otherwise boring individual. Married, more recently. Just had a daughter, born three months ago. No criminal record, but he did have a run-in with Muggle law enforcement for a drunk driving incident. Which was the only odd thing, or so Kingsley thought: he hardly knew of any wizards who made the conscious choice to learn to drive Muggle cars.
The first responder on the scene had talked with the old woman who found him - one Olive Brennan, 68 - and told Kingsley that the scene had been secured, that the coroner had come by, and sent him all of the details. Neatly folded in the front-right side of his favorite jacket was the list of details he was to try and decipher with one Cassiel Avery.
The connection that was made at the scene was lucky. Not everyone gets a lead that fast. But the last text Mr. Delmore received on his phone was not from his wife, his mother, or his employer. It was a series of emojis - several of which Kingsley had never seen before - and the phrase “see you soon”.
Once he’d gotten to the building, which was one of those modern buildings with barely any fanfare, Kingsley had been stopped several times by several sets of guards. No one wanted him to speak with Mr. Avery, and there were a handful of people he had to explain police work to. No, he did not need a warrant to enter a public building. No, he was not arresting anyone. Not yet. Did he need to get suspicious? The last question proved to be most useful, as the final set of guards - right before Mr. Avery’s office door - opened the door for him.
“Mr. Cassiel Avery...my name is Kingsley Shacklebolt. I’m an Auror. I’m here to ask you a few questions about Alexandre Delmore.”
