Thousands of mile away from Clan Home an old fashioned house phone rang. The phone was ringing in the entry hall of an impressive old french chateau. It rang for sometime until your stereotypical maid answered the phone. "Oui?"
"Bonjour, Je suis l'agent spécial Keith Sampson avec le FBI américain. J'essaie de parler à Mademoiselle Rosemount."
"Un moment."
The housekeeper in her sensible black shoes and staid black dress went to the Lady of the house's rooms and told Catherine an American officer was on the phone. So after some minutes another land line phone was picked up, "Hello, I am Catherine Rosemount. How may I help you?" "Greetings, Mademoiselle. I am Special Agent Keith Sampson with the FBI's Rapid Deployment Art Crime Team. This is in regards to the 13th century crown you sent to Sotheby's. We are trying to tie up some loose ends in our investigation. Where you aware of the rightful owner when you sent the crown to the auction house?"
Silence greeted him and only the sound of breathing allowed him to be certain Miss Rosemount had not hung up on him. "I'm sorry the American FBI was dragged into this misunderstanding. We, my Father and I, had sent the crown for inspection and cleaning. We did this in appreciation of the new family head Cally Wotan. Have you spoken to Miss Wotan? I understand the crown is now back safely in her hands." Catherine was sticking to the tale her Father Jean Michel Rosemount had woven.
"Hm, I was unable to personally speak to Miss Wotan. She seemed to take an instant dislike to me and forced me off the Clan Home properties." "Really? Then you and I have much in common Special Agent." Catherine thought for a moment, she still had sources feeding her information about that bitch and other happenings at Clan Home. With this she asked, "So is it true?"
"Is what true, Miss Rosemount?" "Is it true that you are a witch and that the bitch Cally ran you off?" Keith Sampson laughed. He seemed to have found what he was looking for in Catherine Rosemount and it wasn't details about a stupid piece of jewelry. She hated and she had sources. "Mademoiselle, I will admit to certain Wiccan attributes." "So can you do curses or hexes, something that would fuck up that bloody bitch?"
"I could if I was able to get my hands on certain things." Sampson had surveilled the perimeter of Clan Home. Between the roving guards, the gigantic guard dogs that came out at night, and surveillance cameras, the property was better covered than anything he had come across. He couldn't get in. "Really?" Catherine was excited. She knew nothing of witchcraft and what was possible and impossible. But if Cally Wotan could DIE a bloody pus filled death, screaming in agony, begging for death, She, Catherine Regina Rosemount, could be happy again. "What things?"