The Case of the Diamond Murderer

Author: williz

Summary: Officer William Turner lost his memory due to a strong bout of pneumonia, thereafter losing his job at the London Police Department. One year later, now that he is a private investigator, living from paycheck to paycheck, he finds himself involved in a theft and murder case simultaneously. With the help of nurse Elizabeth Swann and victim of the theft, Captain Jack Sparrow, can he prevail in the case of the Diamond Murderer?

Disclaimer: William Turner and Elizabeth Swann do not belong to me. Nor do any other characters used that are recognizable in the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy. I do own all characters that are not in the movie. I borrowed some character situations, as well as some of the time period ideas from Anne Perry, the amazing authoress of the William Monk mystery series.

Turner awoke early the next morning, his arm wound still throbbing. It never failed to bring him back to reality every morning he woke. It was two days since he last spoke to Miss Swann about the diamonds.

Ever since then, he wondered whether she would be a worthy accomplice or not. He was entirely not the same man as he had been before the illness. He knew at least that much.

Never would he have gone to a woman for advice. He had thought a woman to be of particular use in marriage bed, in gossip, in decoration, and in beauty. If there was a woman with none of these skills or traits, she was doomed to spend a life alone.

He laughed in the irony of this, for just the night before, he had decided on going to the home in which Elizabeth Swann resided to ask her advice once more. He had seen the way her mind worked while he spent that short amount of time in the parlor of the Gentrys. When he peered at her rigid, straight form, when her eyes caught his the few times they did, he saw lightning strike through her.

She was curious.

She could do him some good in the case. Certainly she would do no harm. She could not possibly.

She was intelligent, he knew, strong-willed, even stubborn, you could say. Her head was straight on her shoulders, feet flat on the ground. He wondered what sort of people could make a woman like her.

As he pulled his day shirt from yesterday over the strength of his shoulders and began to button it, his thoughts were interrupted by a loud thumping at his front door. His residence was small indeed, and required no loud sound at the front door for Turner to hear if he were anywhere in his home.

He hurried to the door and tucked his shirt into his trousers, before pulling the door open.

Captain Jack Sparrow stood there, his hat pulled low on his dark brow. "Turner, we need ter talk."

Without asking to be let in, the captain stomped in and shut the door himself. He looked up at the slightly taller, half-dressed young man. Turner said nothing, just staring at him.

"I 'ear yeh aren' getting' anywhere in meh case….now, those diamonds mean somethin', mate….got it? An' I 'ired yeh fer the specific reason o' findin' 'em, did I not?" Jack asked, narrowing his eyes as he pulled the hat from his head smoothly.

"You did," was all Turner said.

"Righ' then where are meh diamonds? Yeh 'ave 'em?"

"I do not. I am working on that, Captain Sparrow, I assure you. These things take time. I cannot snap my fingers and have the diamonds appear at your doorstep, Sir. I am not a miracle worker," he finished, his chin held high, despite the dirt that scuffed his boots and the slightly fishy smell of his shirt from the docks the day before.

If there was one thing Private Investigator William Turner could be admired for, it was his absolute pride. He knew how to keep a straight face in any situation, and look almost menacing when he needed to. This was one of those times.

"Look Turner! I know yeh visited tha' li'l lassie nurse o' yers a few days ago. Now wot's 'er name, an' wots she ter meh case."

"She has nothing to do with the case. I merely wanted to apologize to her for leaving her hospital so soon. I was afraid that if I visited the hospital to do so, they would either fine me or capture me and tie me to some bed or another."

"So yeh visit 'er 'stead o' some other doctor?" Sparrow asked skeptically.

"Of course. She was the only one who told me her name. I asked around for where she resided and promptly visited her when I finished my inquiries for the day."

"So 'stead o' lookin' fer meh diamonds, yer walkin' 'round askin' fer some nurse?! Mate, get yer 'ead back in meh case, or it in't jus' th'money ye'll be missin', but yer 'ead ter! Got that?!" Sparrow's finger was dangerously close to the younger man's nose.

"Is that a threat, Sparrow?" Turner's voice was low in his throat.

"So it would seem. Yeh wouldn' tell me th'nurse's name, would yeh?"

"No, I wouldn't. I have no reason to see her again."

There was a long silence in which their eyes met and Turner knew the older man caught the lie in his dark brown eyes. But it was no matter, for Turner was skilled at losing a tail. He had been doing it all his career.

Sparrow left through the front door without a word and got in his carriage, allowing himself to be taken back to the large home he lived in.

Turner shrugged his vest and jacket on, and then put his hat on over his dark curly hair. Walking out of his front door and into the cool, crisp morning, he raised his hands to his lips and blew on them, before hitting his arms and immediately stuck his hands in his pockets.

The cold bit at his toes through the boots he wore. With the money Sparrow gave him after he found the diamonds, he would buy new boots and a new coat. He also wanted a new hat. The one that resided upon his head now was much too tattered for his head's own good.

After a brisk half hour's walk, he reached the street upon which the Gentry home was located, as he had remembered.

Suddenly, he felt a strange chill go up his back. He knew that chill. Someone was watching him from afar, to see where he was going. He knew it was most likely one of Captain Sparrow's thugs, trailing him to see if he was doing his job.

Instead of turning on the street he was supposed to, Turner walked right passed. As he did this, he searched in his vest and coat pockets for anything tangible he could find. In his inner coat pocket, he found a short letter Sparrow had written him a week before. It had some important names scrawled on it.

Suddenly, his fingers opened up and the paper flew from his hands and fluttered to the ground. He tried to catch it, but conveniently could not grasp it. As he leaned down to retrieve the paper from the frosty ground, he subtly peaked behind his legs and saw a man in a black, tattered coat staring at him.

Suddenly, as if a pack of wolves were after him, Turner stood up and took off like a flash of light. He tore down the street and turned into an alley, jumping over the obstacles of protruding steel and iron from the building, and then hoisted himself on a crate.

Reaching up, he grabbed the top of the wooden fence and pushed himself up and over the fence to the other side. Unfortunately, he had no way to see what was on the other side of the fence before it was too late and he was already falling towards it.

Fortunately, it was only a few burlap sacks of potatoes and grain. He landed hard and grimaced as his arm tensed, before he struggled back to his feet and exploded down the street. It wasn't until he was already nearing the other side of the Gentrys' street that he realized his hat was probably in that alley on the other side of that fence. He looked back as he ran and saw no one behind him. He grinned triumphantly, but still ached over the loss of his favorite and only hat.

As he screeched to a halt below the steps to the front porch and door of the Gentry residence, he breathed heavily. He hadn't ran that much in a week or two and felt terribly out of shape.

Clamoring up the steps, he knocked quickly on the door. Unfortunately, the Gentrys decided on hiring help in their household, so Elizabeth Swann herself was not the one to open the door. Instead, a hefty woman in her mid-forties answered the door. She looked to be in an annoyed and weary mood.

"Wart kin I der fer ya, Mister?" She grunted.

Without answering, he pushed her gently aside and stepped in, shutting the door behind him. "Is Miss Swann in?"

"E'scuse me, Sir, but yeh can't jus' push yerself in a respectable ho…"

"Is Miss Swann in?" He interrupted again, a bit louder. "It's for your own good and mine that you not let me stand out there in the open too long."

"Stand out'ere?!" She bellowed. "I've a right mind ter throw yer out there agin! Now git out er I calls the police! Git out!"

"I need to speak with…" He began, before a womanly, strong voice cut through his speech like a knife through warm butter.

"Mister Turner?"

Both Turner and the maid turned to see Elizabeth Swann standing in the doorway, her head tilted a bit to the side, an eyebrow raised, and her hands on her slim waist. "What are you doing here?"

She took in his appearance and saw that he was wide-eyed, dirty, and bedraggled, more so than she remembered him being before. One shoulder of his jacket had fallen from its rightful place to his mid bicep and she saw that there was a small patch of blood where the wound she had saved him from before had been.

Her confusion turned to downright concern and worry. Before she could speak, the maid stepped forward. "Yer know this ragamuffin? 'E jus' burs' 'imself in 'ere like 'e wos King o' England an' demanded ter see ya! Downright rude an' stubborn…"

"That'll be all, Mary, thank you. I do know this man. If you would be so kind, fetch my laudanum from the kitchen and a few cloths. Also, bring a fresh bowl of warm, clean water." Her voice was steady and strong, despite the way her eyes danced in her excitement at the handsome man's presence in her entryway.

She tried to persuade herself her excitement at his presence was due only to the mystery of the man. Every time she saw him, he seemed to bring something new, some adventure she knew naught of, the excitements of life she had never known in her short life.

She knew he could not be more than a few years older than herself, and she was intrigued that a man so young could know and see so much. There was an aura around him the bespoke of his strength and intelligence, as well as his honor and valor, but she shook all of these thoughts away as she went to him.

"Come to the sitting room. Your wound is bleeding once again and this time, you'll let me treat it, I presume. What is the cause for your strange arrival here and in such an awkward and rude (might I add) state?" She asked him, forcing him to sit on the sofa. She took his jacket first and merely threw it on the back of a chair carelessly.

"I lost my hat," was all he said.

His voice was so pitiful, his eyes so disappointed, that she felt the sudden need to cuddle him like she would a lost child, but she only giggled. "Surely that's not your only reason. We could get you another," she offered.

"No, I'm sorry, that was the first thing that came to my mind." She thought she saw a small blush in his already flushed cheeks. "I did lose my hat, but that wasn't my reason for coming here in such a state."

As Mary came into the parlor with everything requested of her, she gasped at the sight of Turner's wound bleeding through his shirt. "Oh Mister…yer arm is…"

"Bleeding? Yes, thank you, I wasn't aware," came his pained, yet saucy voice.

She glared not-so-subtly in his direction and set everything down. "There yeh are, Miss…not quite knowin' why ye'd care fer a feller's wound 'o is ungrateful, though. Kick 'im out th'front door ter fend fer 'imself, I would! An' tha's a fact!"

"I might take you up on that yet, Mary," Elizabeth giggled. She was fond of the stubborn woman, and always had been. "Before you leave to your work, Mary, would you open those curtains? I fear I cannot work in this room without a bit of light."

Mary crossed over to the window after hearing a loud hiss come from Turner's lips. The wound was, indeed, bleeding again, but it was not infected.

"You don't know how many shirts I've ruined with this stupid thing," he grumbled under his breath to the lovely young woman treating him.

Mary did not open the curtains as she was told, but turned quickly to Elizabeth and her patient. "Miss, there's a man prowlin' 'round th'street out'ere in a dark 'at an' cloak. 'E looks right fishy, 'e does!" She whispered hoarsely.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes in curiosity as she felt the young man's body go completely tense beside hers. She looked to him. "What…"

"Don't open those curtains. Keep them shut," Turner said, cutting her off. He stood up and ignored Elizabeth's protests as he strode to the window quickly and reached one finger out to slowly push a bit of the curtain from the glass.

He peered out subtly and saw the same man that was tailing him prowling down the street. Turner realized the man did not know exactly which house he had gone into, and was waiting around to see if he would come out of any of them soon. He dropped the curtain back carefully.

"And now we come to why I came into this home so rudely, as you were both so apt to remind me." He walked to the middle of the room and sighed, looking down at his arm. His shirt and vest still adorned his upper body, some more blood leaking onto the once-white fabric.

Both women just stared at him. Turner found himself not even minding Mary's presence there. In fact, he liked the woman. She was strong and mean. For some reason, that comforted him. He tried in vain to persuade himself that the reason for this comfort was not that the woman was a wonderful source of protection for the lovely nurse still sitting upon the couch, looking up at him in awe.

"The man in black is a tail that was stuck on me when I left my own home this morning."

"A tail?" Elizabeth asked. "Why? Who is tailing you?"

"The man outside, as I told you. I haven't been entirely truthful with you, Miss Swann."

"Call me Elizabeth, please."

"I will…" He paused as he went to peer out the window again. He looked at Mary with a slightly amused look in his dark brown eyes. "Why don't you go out there and shoo him away?" He asked the rotund woman.

Her eyes sparked in absolute blasphemy. "Wot?! Nah, I say, Sir, tha's a ridiculous thin' ter say, innit! I wouldn' go out'ere wit' tha' unholy man if'n th'lives o' me 'ole family depended on it, so 'elp me God." She made the sign of the cross.

"Why not?"

"He don't look right ter me…."

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Turner said, a small grin stretching one side of his mouth.

Elizabeth bit back her laughter and nodded to Mary. "Mary, go on about your work. I'm sure Mr. Turner does not truly expect you to go out there…"

"I should say not!" She barked.

"Sh!" Turner ordered, his brow furrowing in worry.

She scowled meanly in his direction and narrowed her eyes. "Yer lucky the Mister an' Missus ain't 'ere, 'cause they wouldn' stand fer this sort o' riffraff paradin' about in their 'ome!"

As soon as Mary was gone, shutting the parlor doors, Elizabeth went to Turner and pulled him back to the couch. Her eyes diverted to the ground suddenly and there were small patches of red on her cheeks. "Mister Turner, your vest and tunic are hindering my efforts to stem the flow of the blood your wound is emitting."

Understanding, Turner shrugged the vest and tunic off, revealing the wound that didn't quite look as bad as it seemed it would, judging from the large spot of crimson on his shirt.

Trying her hardest not to let her eyes stray onto the bare skin of his surprisingly sturdy torso, she took the wet cloth and soaked it in the warm water, beginning to clean the wound. She left the silence between them in the hopes that he might break it himself to continue his thought. She had been hanging on his last statement minutes before in which he confessed to not telling her the truth.

"Miss Sw—Elizabeth, I'm afraid I have no friend interested in the diamonds for a lady friend at all. In fact, I am a private investigator. I am usually hired as an undercover detective by those who do not want their troubles to go public."

"Like governors, aristocrats, and those sorts?" Elizabeth asked, intrigued.

"Precisely, those who wish for their businesses or reputations to not be impugned in the slightest would not prefer the entire London police force out and about the town under their own names. The slander would reach all across Europe within days. So they hire me."

Elizabeth mulled this all over in her mind, wondering where diamonds came into this. She allowed him to continue in his own time.

"My latest case involves a captain friend of one of my past clients, name of Sparrow. A shipment of his most priceless diamonds was stolen right from under his nose, probably taken to sell in the Eastern black markets. I am to retrieve it for him, or find whoever is responsible at the least."

"Your injury?"

"I am not entirely sure why I was attacked, but I'm also not entirely sure if it had anything to do with my case. No one knows of my involvement save Sparrow, a few of his most trustworthy men, most likely including our man in black waiting for me outside, and you now." He swallowed and winced as she took the bandage to begin wrapping the wound again.

"I know this might sound ridiculous to you, and I know I shan't look a gift horse in the mouth, but why did you find it so imperative that you tell me all of this? I am merely a nurse…"

"And I know I can trust you."

"Do you?" She asked breathlessly. He was so adamant and sure in his response.

"I do. I think you might be able to help me, but now I'm afraid I may have inadvertently endangered your safety."

"What?" She exclaimed, standing with the bandage still clutched tightly in her hand. "Endangered my safety?"

"Sparrow sent that man after me. For whatever reason, he wants to know who you are. And he wants to know a lot more about you that I will not willingly tell him. I do not know much about you myself, yet."

Yet? Elizabeth mused to herself with a raised eyebrow.

"I see," she said audibly. "I am not worried."

"I am glad, but, you see, I am."

"Why is that? I will be perfectly alright, I assure you." He only shook his head to her brave statement.

"I cannot promise that man won't find out this is the house he is looking for. He is probably still out there now, waiting for me to come out."

"What shall he do to you when you do?"

William Turner paused and ran a hand through his hair, still not putting his tunic back on. "Well, I'm certain Sparrow made sure to give him strict orders to make sure I got my work done."

"That means?"

"It means I'll probably be crawling home with a broken bone or two."

Elizabeth set all of her nursing tools aside and securely tied the bandage on his arm. "Then you shall stay here until the man in black leaves."

"I cannot. I have work that needs to be done. I only came to you because I—I need you." He lowered his gaze to his hands.

"You need me, did you say?" Her voice was breathless and low, as if she truly had not believed what she heard from the hard man sitting before her.

"Yes, I do. I need all the help I can get," he remedied. He reached over for his shirt. "Until then, I should leave."

"You cannot possibly," she argued. He only watched her as she reasoned her argument. "If you leave now—well, he is still prowling outside! He shall see you!"

Turner only shrugged. "He will see me whenever I leave. And I must leave. I have work that needs to be done. Work that cannot be accomplished here, as grateful as I am to you for allowing me to stay this long."

"You are welcome." They sat in silence as the young man pulled his torn shirt on and buttoned it up. He then shrugged his vest on. As he stood, he felt her stand beside him.

Turning to her, he nodded his head and went to the chair to pull his jacket on over his shoulders. "Thank you."

She waited to see if he would say anything else, but he didn't. He only went straight to the parlor door and opened it, stepping out into the entryway. She followed him quietly and then watched as he stepped out of the front door. As soon as the door shut again, Elizabeth hurried back into the parlor and peaked out of the window.

Turner's figure moved down the street, his feet shuffling, his head down. He certainly was a hard man to read, by far the hardest she had ever met. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the man in black step out from behind a bush and follow the young man who had just sat in her home.

Both men were soon out of sight and she fretted wildly for the man. She trusted his word that he would be alright, but still, the thought that someone would go to such lengths to assure a job well done gave her shivers.

Even caring for soldiers injured in the war could not prepare her for what lie in the future of the case she had just unknowingly signed herself up for. The moment that man was carried into her hospital, he presented mystery and intrigue that was unknown to her as of yet in her 24 years of life.

Little did she know, this was not even brushing the beginning of what she had yet to experience.

Turner sat in his home with every article of his clothing off of his body save his trousers. A large bruise adorned his ribcage just above his belly button. Luckily enough, his prior wound wasn't bleeding since the nurse had cared for it in her home. His other shoulder had a large black bruise on it, his eye was black, and his lip bled.

And yet, he just sat there. His brooding eyes stared at the fire in his fireplace, one of them swollen shut. He tasted blood in his mouth but ignored it. He just sat and stared.

He had received beatings worse than this before, but that did not excuse the fact that he was still no closer to solving Sparrow's case than he had been a week before.

This irked him to no end.

There was a sound behind him. He turned and saw Captain Jack Sparrow standing there in his doorway. The shadow of his face was ominous and frightening. "Captain Sparrow," Turner breathed, deciding not to stand, for he was indeed still in pain.

"Mr. Turner, how am I supposed to trust you when yer gallivantin' out ter meet wit' nurses when yeh should be doin' yer job?" Jack asked, clicking his tongue disappointedly as he stepped closer.

"I'm not gallivanting, nor have I ever gallivanted ever in my life."

Jack laughed. "So this nurse o' yers…same one tha' saved yer in th'firs' place, issit?"

"Yes."

"Fancy 'er, I did…suspect she don't go fer successful blokes like me? Likes 'em unpredictable and poor?" He paused. "Like yeh?"

"I don't know, nor do I care. She's a good source for help. She knows things a man could never know."

"Aye, mate…mos' women der." His eyes were dark with the innuendo of his statement. This look in his eyes suddenly caused William Turner to want to bring his fist across the smug grin of Sparrow's face. The nurse wasn't his to protect. This was all ridiculous, Turner thought to himself.

"Look, Captain…I am trying to find as many answers as I can. And I need all the help I can get. She can be a great help."

"Or a distraction."

"Do not touch her." His tone was low and threatening.

"Wot?"

"I said do not touch her."

"Ay, mate! Wot makes yeh thin' I will touch 'er? I'm not gonna 'arm th'lassie!" His voice was angry. "I never 'arm a woman!"

"She has nothing to do with this."

"I know she don't…but yeh wan' 'er ter, don' yeh?" His eyes were glum.

"She can help."

"Aye, she can…then use 'er, mate….I dun' care s'long as I get me diamonds. Go'tha'?" His hands suddenly shot towards Will and grabbed his arms.

"Yes," Will grunted in pain. He felt his limbs let go of and he slumped back into the cushions.

"Good. Come by an' see me if'n yeh get more clues, aye?"

"Aye."

Leaning in the shadows, his hat pulled over his eyes, William Turner tugged his coat tighter against his body. The bitter cold was worse at the docks where the biting river winds went write through his layers of clothing. It also was bad for his sore joints from being beaten two days earlier.

He was disgusted with himself.

For such an "accomplished" detective, Turner felt he had acquired absolutely nothing to help him find Sparrow's damnable diamonds. He watched the men walking by, a few had cigars in their mouths, while one seeming captain strode by with a lit wooden pipe in his large, bearded mouth.

The young man began to ponder about the developments in the case. The thieves were somewhere close by, he knew, and yet he also realized he was working against the clock. One of these nights, the expected fog would roll in and the thieves would escape, maybe for good. Once they were out of London, they could be anywhere and there would be no way of Turner knowing where.

He watched some men load large crates onto their tug boat. He watched them attentively and stared. About fifteen minutes later, he noticed the tug boat sunk five inches lower into the water. The churning greenish brown water slapped against the metal hull just below the window, whereas the window was clearly in sight and high above the water before.

Turner nearly hit his own forehead in his idiocy. Of course! Diamonds were heavy and bulky. A shipment of diamonds could sink a ship lower. He realized how small of a development this truly was, but he had to work with as much as he could find.

He began to walk forward and developed a small limp, trying to fit in with the other men. He had not shaved the past few days, for it gave him a more grubby appearance and helped his camouflage greatly.

Suddenly, he felt a hand grip at his collar. He turned to see a large, burly man gritting his teeth in his face. "Who are yeh?" He growled low in his throat.

"Nobody," Turner growled back, keeping his cool, despite the pain he felt in his ribcage.

"Why are yeh walkin' aroun' meh boat, Nobody?" He let go of Turner's collar and dropped him back to the ground. "I don' take kindly ter no strangers stalkin' 'roun' me things, got tha'?"

Turner just nodded and began walking away, but found the strong man pulled him back. His hat fell from his head and hit the cobblestones with a soft thud. "Let go of me and I'll be on my way."

"I ain't lettin' yeh go anywhere's 'til I know wot business ye gots 'ere."

"I'm looking for work," Turner replied without missing a beat.

"Yeh ain't gettin' no work by stalkin' 'bout in th'shadows, lad. Wot's yer real purpose?" His eyes slanted suspiciously.

"Work."

"Aye, yeh seem strong enough…I need room fer a man on meh ship. 'Ow much kin yeh carry, eh?" He squeezed Will's bicep tightly. "I feel th'muscle 'ere... 'ow much?" He folded his arms at his chest and waited for the younger man's answer.

"As much as you need. I can pull my own weight."

"Righ', meet me back 'ere in this same spot on the morrow, 'bout two af'er lunch, aye? We'll see jus' 'ow much yeh kin 'elp me crew, got tha'?" He asked, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Yes," was all Turner said as the large man stalked away from him. He let out the breath he was holding and bent down to pick his hat up. He decidedly left the dust and grime on the hat for looks, then put it back on his head, walking down along the wooden docks again, peering at the men and their ships.

He wondered just exactly what it was he had gotten himself into as he walked back into the main streets of London, his job at the docks seemingly finished for the day. He had to talk to Jack Sparrow, for he would surely help him with this. Sparrow was the only one who knew the ways of sailing and Turner knew he had to learn these ways fast if he were to go back on the morrow with the brusque sailor.

As he stepped into the office, he waited a full ten minutes before Sparrow showed from the back room. "Turner, 'ave yeh got some'pin fer me?"

"Maybe," he replied. "I just took work aboard a trade tug boat and I know nothing about sailing."

"Why would yeh do some'pin 'alf-arsed like tha', eh?" The shorter, older man shook his head. "Honestly, lad…if yeh don' know nuffin' 'bout sailin', yer not in fer a very good ride on tha' boat. Wha' 'appened?"

"Apparently, I was walking too close to this fellow's cargo and he thought I was up to no good. He accosted me, but I adamantly told him I was looking for work. He decided I seemed strong enough and I'm to meet him at that same spot tomorrow at two after lunch. I don't know anything about sailing, Captain Sparrow." He rubbed his head and sighed.

"Aye, yeh don'. Lemme think on this." Turner waited patiently for the captain as the man tapped his long, slender finger against his bearded chin, his lips pursed in thought. "Look, only thin' I kin think o' would be fer yeh ter go tomorrow. An' do th'best yeh kin. Mebbe this tough guy knows wot 'appened ter me diamonds."

The younger man just sighed and rubbed his temples, shutting his eyes. "Alright, I will. I swear to God, Jack, this may be the end of me."

"Nah, it won' be…I need yeh ter find me diamonds, so be careful, mate. Yer th'only'un who'll 'elp me, savvy?"

"Yes," he said softly, standing up and putting his hat back on his head. "I'll do all I can to find them, Sparrow."

"Captain."

"Captain," Will amended, turning to leave the room.

As he stepped back out into the freezing air, Turner began to walk the way to his own home, but stopped suddenly. Something struck him and he spun, beginning to walk the opposite way. If he was to sail the next day, he needed someone looking after the investigation here.

He needed someone who had the intelligence and the audacity to search for information, and he needed someone clever enough to do it subtly.

William Turner stopped a while later at the top of the small steps, his hand resting on the door knocker. When the door opened, Elizabeth Swann stood there, her mouth opened slightly in question, but she kept quiet.

"Miss Swann…I have a favor to ask you."

(A/N:) Here's the next piece of the story. From here on out it gets more and more convaluted and worse to follow. BAHAHAH! No not really. At least I hope not for the latter...but it will get more convaluted. Just in warning.

Thanks for sticking around...and against my better judgement, because I appreciate you guys, I'm putting this chapter out, even though I wanted to wait until I wrote more. I'm trying not to get ahead of myself.

Thanks for the reviews!!! Keep them coming! They're inspiration!

-williz