Kaspar's entry immediately took Montag away from his conversation with Cathal, the look of fear and sheer panic in the dock-worker's expression enough to set off anyone's instincts, let alone a detective's. Before there was even a chance for Montag to approach the gentle giant about the gruesome occurrence he'd witnessed only minutes before, the room suddenly erupted into a frenzy of impetuosity and raised voices. Marie was on her feet confronting the poor Kaspar as if he'd committed the act himself, the dock-worker clearly frightened half to death by her sharp line of questioning. Meanwhile, Jane and Robyn were halfway out of the door without even knowing where they were going, let alone what they might face when there. Now Detective Montag was beginning to seethe, just a little. His eyes narrowed and sharpened like kitchen knives, his countenance going from relatively expressionless to clear frustration at the display from his new team. And he was about tired of it.
"That is enough." Montag raised his voice for the first, and hopefully last, time as he stepped in between Marie and Kaspar, clamping his hands down on the intoxicated girl's shoulders to shove her back and hold her in place, separating her from Kaspar. Following a slight pause he'd continue, addressing the whole room as he spoke, stoic and blunt as ever. "I only want to explain this once. This is an agency for detectives. If you are incapable of keeping a level head in this kind of situation, then you are not welcome in this investigation and should just leave now. When you don't keep a level head, things get more complicated. And when things get more complicated, more people end up dead. This is a murder investigation. One with sinister forces behind it that we can't even comprehend right now, so you should damn well take it seriously. Stop fooling around like this is some kind of farce and remember the reason why we're here. As a group."
Montag paused again, finally letting go of Marie to step to the side and speak Jane and Robyn directly. "There's a fine line between initiative and stupidity. Know where that line is and don't cross it again. As I said, we're a group now. If you think running off alone will achieve anything other than ending up like the victims we're investigating, like I said, this agency isn't for you. If you want to be part of this, if you want to be a proper detective, you need to have enough of a head on your shoulders to keep yourselves safe, at the bare minimum. After that you can start worrying about other people." Even the detective surprised himself referring to those in the room, with the exception of Kaspar of course, a 'group'. That being said, he didn't have much of a choice in the matter at this point, whether he liked it or not. But that didn't mean he was saying it completely out of obligation. He wouldn't say it, otherwise.
"Now, if you've understood that, you two can come with me to the bar. And anyone else who wants to come. I know the place he means." Montag tugged his sleeves down to his wrist in preparation for venturing outside again. The 'place' in question was a bar frequented by those who worked around water: dockworkers, seamen, merchants and fishermen, the like. A place where bowls of chowder and sea-shanties flowed as frequently as pints of stout and lager. 'The Rusty Clam' was its name, located conveniently only a short distance from the warehouse the group were currently in.
Before he left, Montag would lock eyes with Abigail once more to get her attention, gesturing with a nod to Marie. "Keep an eye on her. If anything happens, or you want to come along, then you know where to find us." With Abigail's relations with the working class and homeless of New Haven, there was little doubt in the detective's mind that she knew where Kaspar had been referring to as well.
With one final check to make sure that those who wanted to be first on the scene were at his side, Montag stepped out into the solemn, heavy rain of the night. The first destination of Montag Detective Ltd.'s investigation: The Rusty Clam.