Clues Among Cookware (Am, Rus, Hun, Eng)

[Ivan Braginski]

Ivan stepped into the kitchen first, his feet shaking. This ghastly event was weighing heavily on his shoulders, since the murder shocked him so much he didn't even go up see the body, afraid of reminding himself of the horrors he had fled from. Somewhere in Ivan's consciousness a voice was reminding him how much of a coward he was being, how if he swallowed his fright he might actually help determine what killed Herr Edelstein. But Ivan's memories kept producing the sounds of artillery from the conflicts, and the man was nervously clutching onto an old loose pipe he had found soon after the news of the murder got to him. "I have a right to protect myself, da?" said the Russian shakily when asked about the pipe earlier.

“This is terrible.” repeated Ivan in his mind. He didn’t understand why anyone would kill someone here, on a supposed vacation for him. His weary mind already knew that the next few nights would be sleepless, plagued by this and the many other horrors already there. Just what he needed.

So as Ivan entered the (thankfully) empty kitchen, he walked over to the knife stand, turning around to face his team-mates.

"We need to review what happened to Roderich. Could anything in the kitchen be a murder weapon similar to the one used on him?" said the tall man. He turned slightly, examining the polished knives. They were all in places, looking clean and undisturbed. Perhaps it wasn't a knife that killed their fellow guest after all.
Turning back his attention to his team, Ivan spoke. “How did he look like when he died?”

[Alfred F. Jones]

Alfred followed close behind the Russian, looking over his shoulder nervously. He had shown such bravado in the dining room where it was safe, but out here where he could be virtually alone with the killer at any moment...it was harder to be brave. But he was the hero and he could power through this, swallow his fear and really make a stand. It wouldn't be too hard to do, right? I mean, Ivan was here and he was pretty big so if the killer tried to come at them they could take him. That was, of course, assuming Ivan wasn't the killer himself. In which case he was screwed and had the worst taste in men ever.

He looked around the kitchen, looking for anything out of place. Any bread crumb where it shouldn't be, any scrap of paper. He knew from reading mystery novels and watching crime shows that not all clues were the murder weapon and not all of them were very big. So he would focus more on the little things than Ivan, who seemed to be looking for the big clues. Working together like that they would find whatever it is they were looking for faster. Working together...he blushed and smiled to himself. He really was hopeless, wasn't he?

"Well the gash in his back that probably killed him was way bigger than a knife could make. I don't think any of the stuff in this kitchen could make that wound. It was like...fricken huge!" He said, holding his hands out to about the length of the gash that had gone down Roderich's back.