"You must be delirious 'Bo'. Jackson's killers must have found it when they searched the room. That first one had it and dropped it when I shot him. You remember you picked it up. Lucky for us too, if it had not been for that gun they would have surely killed you too Bo." Bishop said aloud for the benefit of the others.

"But I don't expect you remember much do you Bo. Likely for all of you it was just a horrible blur." Bishop said more or less as a suggestion.

"Rosalie, as you were just a bystander best you keep the mementos." Jack said as he handed over what he had found and motioned her to open her handbag.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:45, Sun 27 July 2014.

Rosalie opened her clutch and stuffed everything the boys had found inside, settling it all at the bottom and piling the other sundry items she carried on top.  "Thank you, Stanley," she said, wanting to hug him for keeping her ass out of the fire.  She closed her handbag and tucked it under her arm, then carefully lowered herself to the floor beside Walter.  Searching his coat again, she pulled out his cigarettes and put one in her mouth, lighting it and taking a deep drag.  Before passing it over to Walter, she wiped her lipstick from the end.  "Sorry, but I needed that."

Walter nodded at Stanley's suggestion with a smile turning up the corner of his mouth. The smile broadened as Rosalie lit the cigarette and passed it to him. He took a deep drag, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before exhaling through his nose.

Shifting the butt to the corner of his mouth, he murmured, "Thanks, kiddo," before he closed his eyes. Stan will handle everything, he thought, Good, old Pinkerton experience.

Seemed no one would be leaving the scene till after the bulls had had their way around the hotel room.  Abraham felt her hand on his shoulder and turned in Rosalie’s direction.  With a weak almost sheepish smile, he offer the flask of whiskey to Rosalie.  ”Sure, have as much as you like.”<seagreen>

<seagreen>”I’ll be, yes, sitting till they come.” He began drifting toward the chairs as Rosalie had suggested a few moments ago.  He kicked something heavy along the way, glanced down, and saw he’d bumped his shoe against the handle of the knife he’d thought to use if the fighting had spilled out of the room and into the hallway with Rosalie and Leo.  Abraham bent over, picked the knife up, and put it out of sight.  He handed off the evidence he’d collected with the others to Rosalie so she could keep it out of sight when the police arrived.  Stan had everything under control.  ”Will the police want to hang on to Jackson’s Lugar?”

In reply to Abraham Hargrove (msg # 121):

"Ya mean th' bad guys Luger," mutters Bo, starting to drift off again.

Rosalie took a pull from Abraham's flask, grimacing at the harshness of the booze, and then handed it back.  "Thank you," she muttered.  The liquor burned its way down her throat and warmed her chest and stomach.  To cover the smell, she pulled a peppermint candy from her purse and popped it in her mouth.  Abe's finds joined the others in her purse, buried beneath her things.

"I think they might want to hold onto it, along with my pistols. But I think it is Jackson's, it looks like the one I brought home from the war for him as a souvenir. I sure would hate to risk it getting lost. I'll do my best to see we hang on to it. This is pretty open and shut. So they might just want to keep it simple, if we let 'em." Bishop said

"Can I see that Luger?" Bishop asked.

[ooc: The Luger's on the floor beside Bo.]
This message was last edited by the player at 20:09, Sun 27 July 2014.

She reached between her and Walter and picked up the gun, handing it grip-first to Stanley.  "I don't know where Jackson got it, but he lent it to me on my last jaunt overseas to Tunisia.  They were having trouble at the dig site with one of the desert tribes and he thought I should not be without protection.  I cannot say that I'm a great shot, but he and Bo did their level best to teach me all those years ago.  I promised to return it to him, but hadn't had the chance before tonight.  I had hoped to give it back to him at Uncle's party."  Memories of Jackson broke through the emotional dam she'd erected to keep her grief at bay and the feeling of helplessness, loss, and emptiness flooded through her once again.  Her voice caught as her throat tightened and she closed her eyes as the tears spilled down her cheeks.

Bishop put his gloves back on before accepting the Luger. As she spoke he wiped the gun free of fingerprints and then kneeled down besides the dead man. Using his own bulk to block anyone seeing him, he made sure to use the hand of the man he had killed to obtain some fingerprints. He then handed the weapon back to Walter.

"Rosalie, that is not this Luger. This one was in Jackson's room. Those men found it. Bo managed to get his hands on it and defended himself. OK."

Despite what had occurred this evening, Bishop continued to remain calm. His was a trained lawyer, albeit a below average one. But in his role as a trouble shooter for Pinkerton he was often cleaning up messes. Sometimes it was for other Pinkerton operatives, other times for clients It was a dirty job but he was good at it. He often had to obfuscate the facts of a case to conceal the truth. But tonight, if he had to lie, it was so they could get to the truth. Still he was looking forward to a drink.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:31, Sun 27 July 2014.

Bo nods slightly and grips the pistol as firmly as he can.

"Where th' hells that ambulance," he asks fretfully.

”Welcome, Rosalie.” Abe replied, taking the flask from her and slipping it back in his inner coat pocket.  ”Sure, that’s what I meant.  The bad guys.”

But who were these men who’d attacked Jackson?  Two negros, one wearing a strange headdress, and a haggard white man.  And the mementos they’d collected from the three men pointed in half a dozen different directions.   ”Anything else you need to clarify?  They’ll ask each of us to give our own version of what happened, right? We heard something in here that warranted breaking down the door, and then all this insanity.”

She nodded mutely to Stanley, understanding his meaning perfectly.  "Soon, Walter.  Just hold on and they'll be here soon."  She wiped away her tears with one hand, ducking her head to obscure the gesture.  Already her eyes felt puffy from crying and her cheeks flushed.  She sniffled and took out a handkerchief to dab at her nose.

"Me an' Stan... ev'yone else jus' bystanders... heard someone robbin' th' joint... scared f'r Jack... broke in an' got attacked..."

"Just like Bo says." Bishop replied. He would try and do all the talking to start. He would lay things out for the cops with as few holes as possible.

Leo sighed at the sight of deliberate planting of evidence, but didn't interfere with Stanley's work. If anyone knew what they were doing, it was him. Leo thought that the forthright option would have been best, but trusted the Pinkerton's judgement here, and really didn't have the energy to argue. It's not like what they were saying was much different that the actual events anyone. The only adjustment was the gun, who had it, and how it came to be in Walter's possession.

Leo squatted down by Walter, placing a comforting hand on the man's shoulder. "Ambulance should be here soon, though once I have my medical valise, I can patch you up right even if Bellevue can't send someone through in this weather. In either case, you'll have another nice scar with a story to tell." Noting that it appeared as if nothing else would be needed for the moment, Leo sat down near where the others had made themselves comfortable on the floor, his back resting against a wall. After a moment, he tipped his head forward onto his knees, and sat there quietly contemplating events both recent and not.

OOC:

Stanley Bishop, can you give me a Luck roll?

11:53, Today: Stanley Bishop rolled 19 using 1d100 with rolls of 19. luck 80.

Meanwhile, downstairs...

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Annabel paused to catch her breath. She really should have taken off her coat, now she was a bit hot. No time for that now though, opening the door, she entered the lobby and headed for the front desk all in a tittle.

"Excuse me," She said breathless. "Excuse me,..... I...I need help...... Room 410, someone in the room is attacking my friends... I think Mr. Elias might be hurt.... Please come quickly and call the police."


"Hello," the young man said uncertainly. "The police are on their way, and I've called an ambulance. They were called at the sound of the first gunshot...I don't know what I would be able to do for you if I came up myself." A scrawny young man, he looked to be a few years younger than Annabel and he did not even begin to evoke the image of a fighting man.

Annabel looked at the young man, frustration in her voice. "Isn't there anyone that can help, a hotel detective perhaps, maybe others?  Oh I do hope they're ok. Do you think they'll be here soon, the police that is;" she added for clarity. She paced about, not sure what to do.

"The house dick left a half hour ago to go home - came down with something awful. Stomach pains and all that," he said, sounding helpless. "Don't worry ma'am, the police will help. They'll be here in a few minutes Why didn't your friends come down here with you?"

"Oh just great;" Annabel said feeling useless. She had hoped she would be able to get help for her companions, but all her efforts seemed to be for naught.

At the clerk's question, Annabel turned to him. "I believe they were defending themselves from the people in the room, whoever they were;" she said in a matter of fact voice. "I ran down here hoping I could get help for them, but my efforts seem to be getting blocked at every turn, Oh where are they, the roads aren't that bad."

The young man looks at Annabel like she is bereft of sense and reason. "The roads are actually in a very bad condition, but I don't think that's why they aren't here. I think they're not here yet because I called them just one minute ago. What's your name, ma'am?"

Annabel gave the man an incredulous look as of saying, 'well how as I supposed to know that,' but remembered her manners, straightened, and changed it to a more ladylike indifference.

"Miss Annabel Ashcroft," she said to the man. "And i had no trouble getting here, so I'm sure they probably won't either." She looked at her watch to see how much time had passed since she had left. She wondered how they were doing up there. There were no sounds as far as she could hear. Was it over?

The seconds that the clock in the lobby counted seemed interminable, though eventually they grew into minutes as Annabel and the clerk waited in silence. Eventually, the sounds of police sirens could be heard in the distance, eventually growing closer and closer until at long last a group of men walked into the lobby.

In the lead was a man dressed in a well-worn Chesterfield overcoat which rested on top of a suit that while well made looked as if it had seen good use over the years. The ensemble seemed just right on the man who wore it, clearly in his older years, approaching the desk with confidence and showing a badge. "Lieutenant Poole. You called for the police. Where's the trouble?"

"Room 410, sir," replied the clerk eagerly. "The room of one Mr. Jackson Elias. After hearing several gunshots, I telephoned for you and an ambulance. Shortly after the call was placed, this young lady, Miss Annabel Ashcroft came asking for the police to be called. Along with some other friends she placed a visit to Mr. Elias when they were attacked by someone."

"Thank you," he said, cutting off further conversation with the clerk. "You," he said pointing to Annabel, "Come with us. But stay at the back, and out of the way. I'll have questions for you later." Withdrawing a Smith & Wesson revolver, he gestured for his men to do the same, and they did.

"Stairs," he said, taking the lead, though he took a moment to point to his men and give them orders. "I want you on the elevator, you two on the fire escape, and you two with me." Taking to the stairs, it didn't take long before they arrived on the fourth floor and were staring down the grisly scene and swore under his breath, looking at everyone present before putting away his weapon and gesturing for his men to do the same.

---

When he got to the cruelly hacked door, he took in the scene and everyone there before drawing out a pad and a pencil, and flashing a badge at them. "Lieutenant Poole. New York Police Department. First, somebody is gonna have to give me the scoop on what happened here. And I'm gonna need everybody's name - I've already got yours written down, Bishop, and Annabel Ashcroft's as well. There's an ambulance comin' for any as that are hurt," he added, looking around the room expectantly.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:47, Thu 31 July 2014.

  Annabel looked relieved when the police FINALLY showed up. Watching them come in, she listened to the conversation then looked a bit surprised when the Lieutenant told her to come then him. Not knowing what to say and not wanting to delay them, Annabel just nodded and sighed when she saw that she had to deal with the stairs once more.

    At the top, she waited in the back not being able to see much as shouts and excited talking came from up ahead. "What's going on? Are they ok? Doctor Elias, is everything alright," Annabel called for the back.

"It's a murder scene, Miss Ashcroft," he clarified from the doorway, backing out in the hallway, stepping gingerly past Walter and Rosalie once again. "Everyone out of the room please. This is a police matter now."

Having removed his gloves, Bishop stood by waiting for the police. When they arrived he waited to be addressed. When the detective acknowledged him, he simply nodded slightly in recognition.

"Glad you are here Lieutenant Poole. No one but the victim, Jackson Elias and one of his killers are still in the room. They are both dead." Bishop said grimly, making the point that they had all waited in the hallway.

"When these men attacked us, Walter here took a machete to the ribs." Bishop said motioning first to Brandon and then to the two dead men in the hall.

Continuing he added "The doctor hear patched him up as best he could, but he will need to go to the hospital as soon as possible. The rest are a bit shook up."

Poole jotted down notes while Bishop talked. He gestured with his hands to his men to have the three other dead men searched, walking into the room and looking around.

"Good to see you again, Stan. Hopefully you can help me put together what happened. You know what I need to know. Now...let's start with names. So the murder vic, by my guess that's the one on the bed. Jackson Elias." He gave the body a cursory inspection, carefully stepping around the pool of vomit and careful not to touch anything. After his men report finding no identification or papers on the other three dead men he added "And three John Does."

"Guy who took the machete, Walter...I'll need a full name with that. As well as for you three," he said, pointing at Dr. Elias, Rosalie, and Abraham.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:46, Thu 31 July 2014.

Leo stood up at the sound of the approaching men, though his limbs felt as heavy as lead as he rose. When told to leave the room, Leo did as he was asked, and walked over toward Annabel, his countenance somber. He spoke quietly to answer her questions. "No, Miss Ashcroft, everything is not alright. Jackson has been murdered and Walter is injured. Did you ask them to send an ambulance from Bellevue?"

Leo heard them requesting more details, and while he would allow Stanley to do most of the talking, he would at least offer his name. "I am Doctor Leonardo Elias. Jackson's father."