"I guess it depends, doesn't it?" she shrugged. "He's always bouncin' about here and there. You could wait an hour, or you could wait twenty maybe before he comes back. He may be on one of his famous benders for all I know." She mimed the act of tipping back a bottle, and then play acted a little drunkenness, and then giggled, falling back into form. It was actually a reasonable impersonation of Abraham, if in caricature.

Bishop smiled at her performance. " You got him down pretty good. Making me thirty."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Oh, I don't know. Yesterday, I think. Maybe the day before," she answered.

Bishop figured the timing. It might be that Abe had just taken a powder.

"Well it might be a bit of a wait then. Don't want people to get nervous having a couple of strange men just standing around the hallway." Bishop said.

"If you don't, maybe you should just come back another time. Somebody might call the police and report you for loitering," she replied.

Tommy smiled and walked forward to befriend the dog as Bishop spoke.
Scratching behind its ears he coo'ed encouragingly. "Aint you a handsome boy?".

He listened attentively as Bishop quizzed the woman, and looked up cheerily as the woman mentioned the police. "Hah! I'm sure the police have far more important things to do than come chasing after a couple of harmless fellows like us. Nice area like this you can't get too much trouble right?". He let the question hang, incase she wanted to gossip about such things.

"Anyways, I'm sure Mr Hargrove will be back soon enough. Mr Bishop, shall we get under way?".

"Suit yourselves," she said non-chalantly, not really seeming to care too much one way or another as she wandered off.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:35, Sun 24 May 2015.

Tommy ran a hand through his hair and offered a gentle shrug. As the woman turned away he couldn't help but watch her rear, before turning to Bishop with a sheepish grin.
"Where ever Mr Hargrove is, it aint here my friend.".
He glanced at his watch.
"I wonder if either of the ladies have finished their respective researches yet?".

"Yeah. I just wanted to make sure he had not ended up on the wrong on of some negro's war spear." Bishop said heading out to the car. As usual he kept an eye out for trouble.

OOC:

Where are Bishop and Cotton off too next?

OOC:

Please color and tag your OOC posts appropriately!

It is mid-morning - sometime around 10 or 11

Tommy nodded as Bishop spoke. "You're right to be concerned. Maybe he'll turn up tomorrow.".
The young reporter looked out of the window as the tall New York buildings filtered by while they drove. Alongside the road folk went about their business oblivious to the fact that any one of them might be the next victim of the Harlem killer.
"I still don't understand our enemy's motive. They must have killed Jackson because of his work right? Whatever he was investigating? Or do you think it was something else?".
He paused thoughtfully as ahead of them some kids crossed the road.
"The other victims seem unrelated too. Maybe if we headed over to the library or museum we could see if one of the others has picked up on anything interesting?".

"One of the victims was a bookseller. I want to check out his shop and see if there is a connection to the sort of books the others are researching." Bishop replied.

"Thurmmond you mean? Right. He owned a couple of bookstores. I spoke to his sister after the murder. God, she took it hard. But who wouldn't?".
Tommy flicked through his notebook.
"I suppose it's possible Adolf and Jackson knew each other through the books right? That never came up when I met 'em, but then I had no idea who Jackson was so wasn't looking for a link like that.".

When Bishop and Cotton pulled up to the bookshop in Brooklyn they had been given an address for by Poole, they found that  it was open, though quiet. The Corner Bookshop seemed like an average neighborhood book store. Behind the counter, there was a woman in her late fifties reading a newspaper. She looked up and greeted them as they came in, and promptly returned to reading the paper.

As they approached Bishop doffed his hat and offered a respectful smile and a card that listed a number at Pinkerton but omitted the name of the agency.

"Good morning miss, my name is Stanley Bishop, this is Mr. Cotton. We are looking into several recent deaths, including the death of Adolf Thurmond. First let me offer my condolences."

" was hoping I might ne able to asks a few questions and perhaps have a look around to see if we might be able to find something that might offer a link between Mr. Thurmond and the other victims."

"And here I was hoping you were going to buy something," she said. "There were other deaths like my husband's?" she asked, looking at the card offered by Stanley, though she didn't take it.

"I've already told the police everything I know. If you're trying to connect this to some kind of serial killer, you could start with them," she said.

"As I said ma'am I am sorry for your loss. My college and I have spoken with the police. One of those killed was my best friend, so this is not part of any official investigation. That said I am a private detective and I am attempting to piece together some elements of these crimes that may have evaded the police."

"My friend was Jackson Elias, the author and researcher who specialized in the occult. His death seems to be related to the work in the field and I wondered if perhaps your husband's death might not have been related to some book or books in his collection or perhaps some connection to Jack." Jack said with care.

"Well, I'm sorry for your loss as well. Nobody took any of his books, so I'm not too sure about them killin' him 'cause of his books. We don't have anything of that occult stuff in here, except maybe some fiction. I can't say I've heard of Jackson Elias before," she said.

"Thank you." Bishop replied. His loss was tough but nothing like losing a husband must have been.

"Was there any trouble with any negroes around the time of your husband's passing? Finally do you think you could look at a list of other possible victim's to see if you might recognize some connection?" Bishop asked removing the list from his pocket.

"Negroes? No, not that I know of. The only connection to any of them that I can think of would be all those maps Adolf had been buying," she said.

Perhaps he had finally found something to explain the booksellers death. Might too ne getting to close to the Carlyle Expedition's fate?

"Maps? Maps of what and where exactly?" Bishop asked.

"Maps of Africa. He started ordering them into the store some time back, and I kept telling him that people don't want maps of Africa - if anything maybe some tourists would want maps of the city, but he didn't listen to me and was really intent on maps of Africa. He didn't even try to sell them!"

"My friend was doing some research on Africa, and it appears to have cost him his life. Do you still have his maps?" Bishop asked beginning to feel that this was almost certainly connected somehow.

Tommy raised an eyebrow as the maps were mentioned.
He thumbed through his notebook until he found the page he was looking for.
"Yes, that's right! I spoke to Mr Thurmmonds sister; she mentioned he'd a growing interest in maps. But at that stage the influence of Africa was not so relevant so I thought naught of it.".
He looked back to the poor widow.
"I hate to ask, but did your husband keep records or any of the staff make note of who else might be interested in those maps? Perhaps Jackson was looking into the same thing...".