"My condolences for your loss, Dr. Elias," he said respectfully, though his mind was clearly still focused on the task at hand. He walked over to the window, careful to avoid the bloody handprints there and pulled it up, looking down to the two detectives below by the bottom of the fire escape.

"You can come back up now. And get Randolph too," he shouted to the men below before turning about and pulling the window shut, rejecting the draft of cold air that had briefly streamed into the room.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:28, Thu 31 July 2014.

" 'f it's alla same t'you, lieutenant, I'll jus' sit here onna floor an' bleed."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:19, Fri 01 Aug 2014.

"You're fine where you are, son," grunted the old detective. "Ambulance'll be here sooner than you know. I meant them as haven't been cut up. What's your full name Walter?"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:54, Thu 31 July 2014.

   Annabel looked shocked as Leo told her the news. "Oh Dr. Elias, I...I am so sorry; yes...yes there is an ambulance coming, but with the snow, I don't know when it will get here." She didn't know what else to say so she fell silent for a moment looking at him. He looked terrible; she could only imagine how he must feel right now. She looked over barely seeing Walter's prone form on the ground. Finally she spoke again.

  "Those people that were in the room that attacked you, they did it? Why would they do such a thing? It's just horrible, horrible; and you were so happy he had come home too. How is Rosalie doing?" She looked for the older woman and saw her. As Annabel suspected, she was doing about as well as Dr. Elias.

"Lieutenant, his name is Walter Brandon, he is Jackson's cousin. Most of us are Jackson's relatives." Stanley said still using the present tense.

"Today is Dr. Elias' birthday, and we received a telegram from Jack saying he was in town. Then we got a call. He sounded like there was some trouble .. like he was in danger. It had been a while since any of us had seen him so we all piled in a couple of cars and came to check on him." Bishop paused long enough to let the detective to take notes.

"When we arrived we had the desk call up, but there was no answer. After such a treacherous drive we were no going to just turn around, so we headed up to room. We knocked but there was no answer. So we knocked again, still no answer but we heard some odd noises inside,  Concerned for his safety we secured an axe and attempted to open the door. That was when all hell broke loose." Bishop spoke with grim determination, as if he needed to say his piece or be crushed under the horror of it.

Bishop motioned to the floor "These two men charged out wielding machetes, one was wielding a pistol as well. Luckily due to Jackson's warning I had come armed. I was able to put down the first one down and Walter picked up that luger. But the other one stuck Walter in the ribs almost killing him. Walter managed to defend himself with the recovered luger, and he killed his attacker."

Bishop continued reporting the events "With two killers down, Brandon and I saw the remains of Jack on the bed, and spotted a third in the room. After warning him to stop we fired and he was killed. We found Jackson dead, brutally murdered by the very men who had just attacked us."

"If only we had gotten here sooner." The last words he said more to himself than anyone else.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:59, Fri 01 Aug 2014.

Ah, and here they come at last. Thought Abe pulling himself to his feet as he heard the police investigator’s barking commands.  Was this all?  Abraham had expected an army come with Lieutenant Pool.  What would’ve happened if Walter and Stanley hadn’t been able to overpower the three murderous bastards?  Would this one man have been enough to stop them in their tracks?  Abe knew criminals, plenty of them, hard brutal men who wouldn’t give a damn about couple of badges if they had the upper hand and the need to sell mister policeman a nice farm.  Now, just about every man Abe knew would’ve gone with a different approach to the situation, bribery at the very least, and held off on murder till there looked like no other option.    Damn it all, he wasn’t thinking straight.  Not with Jackson dead not more than a few feet away.  Not with Leo grieving and moments from a detatched interrogation.  Not with the booze.  There were plenty of people here.  Enough to stop these three sorry sons of bitches.  Numbers were the only reason they’d taken Jackson.   They were cowards, filled with courage after slaying one defenseless man and making a macabre picnic from his innards.  What sort of madness could transform a man into the sort of creature who’d willingly rip and tare another’s guts out?  Need he search for an answer?  He’d spent two years away from the United States with a commission. No innocence, but no answer beside the selfish bloody nature of man the common religion tried to deny.  ”I’m.. My name is Abraham Hargrove.  Relative to the deceased.” He said.  ”Stanley’s got the story.  He and Walter—there’d be a more life lost if they weren’t here.”

Poole took notes diligently as Stanley spoke, not speaking again until he was done writing. Occasionally, he looked at the two of his men who were conducting an examination of the scene and taking notes of their own while he interviewed the witnesses. One of them recovered the Luger with gloved hands, placing it in a bag.

He nodded to Abraham as he wrote his name down, and then spoke to them all. "You can all let your guard down. It should go without saying that I don't think you folks had anything to do with Jackson's murder, but maybe it doesn't so I'll say that...and this other mess looks like a pretty clear cut case of self defense to me, with the state that Mr. Brandon seems to be in and all."

"This isn't the first killing of this sort that we've found. It's the eight in the last year that has this sort of...I guess you could call it a 'ritual' element to it. That symbol...it's connected to some sort of African death cult. Up in Harlem, they won't talk to us about it. So far, the theory is that these are ritual murders of folks who somehow learned too much. I'd have liked to have one of these saps in an interrogation room...but that's neither here nor there."

Two more policemen joined the group, bringing their number to five. One of them said something to Poole quietly, the latter merely nodding and jotting something down.

"If there's anything else any of you can tell us, it would help us with the investigation. Otherwise, you're free to go - after we get her name." He gestured to Rosalie.

"We might contact you with some questions if anything comes up."
This message was last updated by the player at 03:06, Fri 01 Aug 2014.

Walter raises his head and opens his eyes at that statement. He turns his head and whispers in Rosalie's ear.

"Thanks Lieutenant. It has been a rough night, and we still need to break the news to Jack's mother."

"As far as what we have to add, well if anyone would have learned too much about such things as an African death cult, it would be Jack. He was an author and many of his books focused on just that sort of thing. If you like I can give you the titles."

Bishop approached closer, as if to take Poole's note pad and scribble down the titles, but then said quietly "I would ask that you that you keep our names confidential. If this is really another one of these killings, witnesses to one of there rituals might easily be seen as knowing too much. If the press get's a hold of this it could be dangerous."

Rosalie nodded to Walter and rose to her feet.  Passing Stanley, she paused and murmured quietly. 

Moving then to greet the Lieutenant, she pointedly kept from glancing into the room.  "My name is Rosalie Elias, Jackson's cousin.  Dr. Elias is my uncle."

"I have to ask, Lieutenant -- do you have any current leads regarding the other murders?  This has all come as quite a shock and we would very much like to know why Jackson was made a target.  If there have been others, one of them might be an acquaintance or known to Jackson.  We might recognize someone if shown their photographs or given their names." 

Poole took down the names of the books from Bishop, and then noted Rosalie's name. He answered Bishop's request for privacy in kind, speaking in a quiet voice. "Of course, Bishop. This is police business, and I won't be releasing your names to the press - though no doubt Mr. Jackson Elias's name will manage to make it into the papers tomorrow. But you're right to be concerned either way. There's no telling whether or not they know anything about you all already. One of my men canvassed the area, and apparently an old black Hudson was seen leaving the area probably just around the time the first gunshots were heard. It matched the description of a stolen vehicle we were looking into earlier today."

Clearing his throat, he addressed Rosalie. "Miss Elias, I know a little bit about cults, but the singular thing that I have found in common with them is that they're secretive. We interviewed those close to the victims, but I fear they knew little about it. Beyond what I've told you already, we haven't unearthed any further details."

Walter takes a deep breath and suddenly erupts in screams and curses: "Yaaaahhh! You bastards, you stinking nigras! You killed Jack! You killed my cousin, damn you!"

He lurches onto the nearest dead cultist, pummeling the man's face and body with his fists, ripping open his shirt and almost tearing it from his torso. Just as quickly he lunges at the other corpse, still screaming, attacking the dead body in the same way.

When the police try to restrain him, he struggles against their efforts, propelling himself and them into the corridor. All this frantic activity dislodges his bandage, of course, and he bleeds freely.

Having done a lot of talking, Bishop had taken a moment to listen and think. But after hearing Rosalie's words and seeing Bo's fanatical performance moved as if he was going to restrain him.

But when the patrolmen got have of him, the Pinkerton man moved closer to the bodies to see if he could spot any tattoos or scars on the exposed parts of their bodies.


But the struggling Brandon and the patrolmen blocked his view.

   Annabel looked on with shock and bewilderment on her face as Walter started screaming obscenities. Not being near the room, she couldn't see what he was doing and from the sound what was in there, didn't think she wanted to see what was in that room. She put her hand to her head, this was all too much; all she wanted to do was go home and put all of this behind her as just a bad dream. With the tragedy, Annabel was sure Dr. Elias was not going to be needing her for a while; maybe she should go back home for a few days, get away from New York.

 Hearing that the police were done with them, Annabel waited patiently for the others to get ready to go.

"Jesus, someone get that man under control!" he shouted even as his men rushed in to restrain Walter and pull him away from the scene. Poole's attention was completely captured by that, and he swore, looking at the blood that added to his scene.

"Pull yourself together, man!" he said pointing at Walter before turning back into the room to see how much damage had been done to the scene and whether it would affect his ability to extract some details from the room. It was just then that two men with a stretcher arrived, lead by a third in a white coat.

"We're here in from Bellevue at the request of the hotel," he said. "I'd ask who needed attention, but it seems quite obvious. You, young man, calm yourself or I will see that you are calm," the doctor said, addressing Walter with a tone of authority.

---

OOC:

Stanley's inspection of the bodies yields no results. He isn't able to find any tattoos or markings on the body.

Leo looked at Walter with bewilderment, but he quickly deduced a reasonable cause of Walter's activity that had nothing to do with the sort of psychotic behavior that Leo had seen too often in his various visits to mental hospitals and asylums. All the same, he did move to see what might have been exposed by Walter's work before he turned to at least give the appearance of trying to calm the man down. "Relax, Walter, that won't do any good for Jack."

He looked at the approaching men with a stretcher and apparently a doctor. Leo reached into his memory to see if he recognized the man - Leo had spent no small amount of time at Bellevue over the years. He addressed the man in white to give him what details he could. "Hello, I'm Doctor Elias - the patient has a laceration and likely bruising of the ribs. I didn't note any fractures during my initial examination. Bleeding had been halted. I will call on him when I am able, though no later than tomorrow morning."

OOC:

Leonardo, please make rolls for both KNOW and also Credit Rating.

OOC:

6 Credit Rating (vs. 75)
29 Know (vs. 75)

12:22, Today: Dr. Leonardo Elias rolled 6 using 1d100 with rolls of 6. Credit Rating (75).
12:22, Today: Dr. Leonardo Elias rolled 29 using 1d100 with rolls of 29. Know (75).

"Doctor Leonardo Elias?" the doctor asked, looking up at him. "It's me, Frank Radcliffe. We've met a few times in the past." He turned his attention back to Walter's wounds.


"A good diagnosis. It's quite a long cut, but the damage isn't critical and with rest, the man should heal in not too long, though this will leave quite a scar." He took out his valise and proceeded to do with proper supplies what Doctor Elias would have been able to do earlier, bandaging the wound.

"Dr. Elias, you've done a good job with limited supplies, though your patient seems intent on ruining your good works. Walter, we'll need to take you to the hospital, disinfect the wound of any contaminants, and see that you're sewn up properly to minimize the time you'll spend healing. We'll be able to give you something for the pain there. If you spend your time frolicking about and neglecting your care, you'll open the wound again. Where shall we send the medical bills?"

"Ah, yes, I remember you, Doctor Radcliffe. I can't think of many that I'd rather have taking care of Walter. I will be by in the morning to settle the ambulance charges on Walter's behalf - any future invoices should be sent to my office."

Leo took one more look at Walter and offered him a wan smile. "You'll be in good hands. Get some rest and I'll see you soon."

Walter subsided, panting and gasping: "Sorry... Oh! I'm sorry..."

Bright red blood had soaked through his bandage and he laid still as the new doctor assessed his injury.

"Leo, thanks," he said, grasping Leo's hand, "Tell Aunt Catherine I'll see her soon as I can."

He laid back on the stretcher, exhausted and quite willing to be ministered to.

Despite Walter's shenanigans Bishop had been unable to spot any tattoos. This was not a big deal, later that night or the next morning he would visit the morgue and slip a saw buck to an attendant and have a nice long look.

But Bishop was hoping for a little more insight on his friends killers before Poole shoed them away. He had heard Rosalie and decided to pursue that angle.

"I am sorry about Walter's outburst Lieutenant. Like I said they are all pretty shook up."

"I do wonder if what Rosalie was suggesting was that we might be acquainted with some of the names of the other victims. Perhaps we might be able to provide a common link between one or more of them and Jack. I am not suggesting now, but perhaps in the next couple of days we might go over the list."

"Not trying to get in the middle of an active investigation, but I know we all want to cooperate in whatever way we can to try and find anyone else involved in jack's murder."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:56, Fri 01 Aug 2014.

Moving away from his men, Poole beckoned Stanley to the side of the hallway for a quieter discussion.

"Not being a police outfit, it might just be that you can have some success where we're not able to. I don't have the details with me, but scant as they are, I'd be willing to share a little bit of it with you. Not here - not now. Maybe tomorrow sometime. If you gotta place we could meet, we could do that - or you could come down to the precinct and we could talk in my office."

"I can meet you at your office." Bishop replied quietly.

"I better get them out of here before the press shows up." Bishop said Motioning over to the survivors of the attack.

Easy for the lieutenant to say.  This wasn’t a part of Abe’s normal routine.  So the blundering alcoholic ramblings, the degrading his reputation among close familial social circles, and spurts of lucid thought usually kept inside when a pen or a typewriter were absent, those were all within his ordinary routine.   Breaking into hotel rooms, seeing his cousin and in-law end the life of pair of psychopathic negros and a lone but just as insane white man, and then, THEN, walking in on Jackson like he was, that wasn’t on Abe’s regular agenda.  Letting his guard down?  Sure, maybe, but he’d drain the last of the whiskey in his flask before the bulls had locked down the scene of Jackson’s murder.  No, not out of fear they’d confiscate his hooch if they caught him with it but because he needed it.  Hell came to New York and visited the Elias family.

That fact—the connection of the queer symbol with an African death cult—obviously held some importance.  After all, if one knew anything about Jackson it’d be his extensive research and investigation into similar affairs.  The fear in Jackson’s voice Leo’d mentioned before they’d left the party made a whole lot more sense now.  Jackson knew something about these people, that much was clear, and they’d seen fit do something about it.  Religions, cults, people took their superstitious beliefs far too seriously.  Harlem, sure, made sense enough.   And what Poole said to Rosalie made just as much sense.  Groups like that, cults and criminal fraternities, neither like handing out their secret rituals.  They kept a lid on how they operated, keeping their activies surrounded by mystery.  What people didn’t know they would fear, and that’d been the very premise of most of Jackson’s work.

”Christ!” Abe shot up to his feet when Walter burst into an abrupt rage.  While the policemen nearby Walter moved to restrain him, Abe stepped back and returned to stand with the other members of the family.

After the brief altercation, after Leo and the others calmed Walter down, the detached checking off of Jackson’s injuries disturbed Abe, and looking back at the corpse while Leo spoke with the newcomer, Dr. Radcliffe, he tasted bile in the back of his throat.  However, he kept his mouth shut.  Bishop was the man to deal with the Lieutenant and while Abe had some thoughts about the incident, if as he suspected Bishop, Walter, and the others wanted to do their own investigations, he wouldn’t speak about them till after they were away from the cops.