Park Lane Hotel

A high-pitched woman's voice chimes in from the corridor over the bellhop's shoulder. The accent is English, the tone is plummy and middle-class, yet the inflections and words are pure working-class cockney. "Ain't no need to bother sending me up Sergio, I'm already here ain't I? Cadged a ride up in the service elevator with Pierre the sous-chef. Had to tell the randy frog to keep his filthy hands off my vol-au-vents. Have a word with him won't you, Sergio, my sweetie?"

A petite woman bundles past the surprised bellhop and into the suite. She is wearing a man's plaid suit which is a couple of sizes too big for her and a patterned cloche hat. A white-gold brooch shaped like a chrysanthemum flower is pinned to the left lapel of her jacket. Slung over her shoulder is a battered, oversized leather satchel, the clasps nearly fit-to-bursting with whatever contents are stuffed inside.

She stands before Lampton's valet and gives him a wink and a firm, enthusiastic handshake. "Allo there, mate. I'm Molly Fuller, stringer extraordinaire for the London Scoop, this city's premier repository of fine news and outstanding tittle-tattle. Can I please have a natter with Mr Howard Lampton, if you may? I heard the old devil is back in the big smoke from his recent travels abroad. Mickey Malone, the editor at the Scoop, told me I'd find him here at the Park Lane Hotel."

Molly looks around at the assembled party expectantly, flashing everyone a wide, toothy grin.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:38, Fri 30 Sept 2011.

Phil looks up from his large egg and ham lunch and says, "Hiya! I'm Phil." He then continues eating.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:11, Fri 30 Sept 2011.

John-Marc stands up from the table, nods and says, "Hello. I'm John-Marc Falcon, pleased to meet you."

Cynthia's eyebrow rises. She returns to her work.

Lampton blinks and his teacup rattles on the saucer, as he rises to his considerable height. "Miss Fuller, where did you spring from?" he says with obvious pleasure, "Simmons, fetch Miss Fuller a chair and a cup. Will you take tea, Miss Fuller? Have you met everyone?

"Allow me to introduce Miss Cynthia Holloway. Miss Holloway, Miss Molly Fuller. And these are Doctor Weston, Colonel Storm, Flight-Lieutenant Falcon, and Mr. Webley," He glances about the room, "I think that's everyone."

He waits for Miss Fuller to be seated before resuming his seat.

"To what do we owe this pleasure?"

After exchanging pleasantries and greeting with everyone present, Molly takes a seat and removes her cloche hat, shaking out her long, wavy auburn hair. "Ahh, that's better." she says as she accepts a cup of tea from Simmons.

"Howard, so good to see you again. How are the gall-stones? Did you see Dr Bradford-Titchner, that doctor in Harley Street I recommended, before gallivanting off on your trip overseas? Anyway, my editor at the Scoop, Uncle Micky, told me that you went to see him at his office the other day about The Soho Egyptian Slayings. Well, it just so happens I've been reporting on that case myself . You may have seen my recent piece about the 24th murder published in the Scoop just the other day?"

Molly slurped uncouthly at her tea and dunked a biscuit in it before shoving in all in her mouth at once. "Mmmmm... can't beat a good digestive. Where was I? Oh yes, what on earth are you doing sniffing around these murders, like a fly around week-old doggy poop-poop?"

In reply to Molly 'Mungo' Fuller (msg #11):

"Yes, Mister Lampton. How would you like your tea, ma'am?"

After seating Miss Fuller and pouring her a cup of tea, Simmons resumes his station by the door.

Occasionally, he checked the hall to ensure there is no one hanging about.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:11, Mon 03 Oct 2011.

"Really, Molly," Lampton chuckles, "Your joy at playing the declassé plebian is almost unbearable. I've known fishmongers who'd be embarassed at your manners, or lack of them.

"As to our purpose in London, I'll tell you, but only with the understanding that it's completely off the record. When we move on, you and Malone can fight it out to see whose byline goes on whatever story there is. But our lives may be jeopardized if our identities are publicized."

He sets his cup on the table and looks around at his compatriots. "Please correct me if I err in any details.

"In January, we each received a communication from our mutual friend, Jackson Elias, the writer, asking that we come to New York to help him investigate the Carlyle expedition's disappearance in Kenya. When we arrived, we found Elias had been murdered, apparently by a cult called The Bloody Tongue.

"Miss Holloway interviewed Erica Carlyle, Roger Carlyle's sister, but she provided little information. Some of us also went to a place connected with The Bloody Tongue, the Ju Ju House. There was little information gained there, in part because of a gun battle involving the cultists and the police.

"We have found several books we hope will shed some light on the situation. Jonah Kensington, Jackson;s publisher, suggested we come to London to seek additional information.

"Here in London, we approached the Penhew Foundation, which had helped mount Roger Carlyle's expedition. The founder, Sir Aubrey Penhew, disappeared with the others. The foundation was little help.

"Tonight we're going to the Blue Pyramid club, which has connections with the Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh, which is the subject of one of the books I've read and may be involved in the murders of Egyptian men, which you are investigating."

Cynthia does not look up from her book. "Mr. Lampton, please. She is a journalist. You should know that nothing is 'off the record' with a journalist, especially one of her high caliber, I'm certain. She can get all the particulars once our case is concluded. In the meantime, it would be best that we not share anything with those who are not contributing, for the sake of our long-term health."
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:40, Mon 03 Oct 2011.

Howard turns to Cynthia, "Ah. Your point is well taken, Miss Holloway. I have found Miss Fuller to be trustworthy in the past, despite her uncouth manner." He permits himself a slight smile. "She is also a trove of information about London and its seedier goings-on. We can only avail ourselves of her knowledge, if we tell her what we are seeking.

"What can you offer us, Molly, regarding our inquiries?" he asks, returning his attention to the journalist.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:09, Mon 03 Oct 2011.

As Lampton explains his story Molly takes out a notepad and lackadaisically scribbles inside it, nodding occasionally and making the odd affirmative noise, but mostly she concentrates on eating as many biscuits as possible before somebody moves the plate out of the way.

When Lampton has finished she wipes the crumbs from her mouth with the sleeve of her plaid jacket and replies, "Howard, my dear, that all sounds positively thrilling! I wager that Uncle Mickey would pay a pretty penny for a transcript of your group's adventures so far. But of course, I understand your request for tacit and anonymity. I promise not to publish anything on this story that may jeopardize you and your companion's personal safety."

Molly then goes on to explain all she knows about the murders, which is not much more than the investigators have already found out. She mentions that she has a contact within the Metropolitan Police Force who is 'unofficially' investigating the case, and that she was planning on meeting him tonight at the Blue Pyramid Club. Molly suggests that she tag along with the group.

Cynthia responds simply to Mr. Lampton, "I'm sure she is."

She responds to "Mungo", "I don't think that's a good idea. Nothing personal, but I may end up seeing someone I know."

Raising his eyebrows at Cynthia's remark and giving her a look, Howard says to Molly, "In any event, I expect we'll see you there, Molly.

"Do you have any information about the Penhew Foundation or the Carlyle Expedition?"

Molly was just about to snaffle another biscuit when Cynthia's scathing remark makes her think twice and replace it back on the bone-china plate. She stands up and pins her hair up, then places a hat on top.

"Yes, Howard, I expect you may see me there. Please don't embarrass me by overdressing for the venue. I happen to know the club is very specific in the clientele it chooses to admit.You have to... fit in. Or at least know the doorman." She turns to leave, and when Lampton asks his final question she leafs through the pages of her notebook and says, "Penhew Foundation? Carlyle Expedition? Oh yes, here it is, in my notes. I have plenty of juicy information, thank you very much. See you tonight. Goodbye."

She heads out of the suite and catches the elevator down to the lobby, then leaves the building, hopping onto her bicycle left outside the hotel.

In reply to Molly 'Mungo' Fuller (msg #19):

Simmons holds her chair, then smiles as he gets the door for Molly.

"Have a good aftenoon, ma'am."

Ralph stood when Molly left, then nodded in John-Marc's direction.

"The Major and I are off now to check up on our friend Mister Falcon, here. Is only mid-morning in New York so I feel confident we'll be able to place a call to Jonah, although it will likely take much time to complete. Does anyone have anything else they want us to accomplish while we're out?"




Major Storm also stood as the lady left the room, then waited for further instructions from their comrades. He added, "we'll also check up on good ol' Doc Weston over at the Royal Library. We left him there this morning and God knows if we don't come by and grab the SOB, he'll stay there until it damned-well closes tonight!

"Er, pardon my French, Miss Cynthia."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:56, Mon 03 Oct 2011.

Molly spends the evening having a scented bath in her flat in Fitzrovia and getting ready for her visit to the Blue Pyramid tonight. She decides to dress up for the occasion, intending not to be outdone by the snooty Holloway woman she met earlier today. Molly sets her hair, wears a glitzy Coco Chanel dress that her mother bought for her 21st birthday and a pair of heels, and applies lipstick, eyeshadow, and blusher for the first time in what seems like months. She packs her miniature camera into her ornate handbag, concealing it within the hidden lining. When ready, she drinks a swig of gin to steady her nerves and catches a taxi cab to the club for 8pm (or whenever everyone else is arriving).

Park Lane Hotel

As the rain commenced, Charles Storm and Ralph Fulty left to check on Dr. Weston and make the call to Jonas.

It was getting to the end of the business day in London so transatlantic telephone service would take hours, as the lines were tied up in commercial use. A telegram would probably be quicker but take longer and be less private. They wouldn't be back until at least early or likely late evening (5pm New York time being 10pm London time) so they begged off on the night's excursion to the Blue Pyramid Club.

After deciding to stay in London at the Park Lane Hotel, John-Marc left for Croydon via the bus to gather his things and arrange via telephone for Karlheinz to come and ferry the plane home. The room at the Aerodrome Hotel was already paid for the night so Karlheinz would stay there and return to Lympne in the Brisfit in the morning. Hopefully the weather would improve and he wouldn't be flying at night.

At around 3:15, Mr. Singh arrived back at the Park Lane Hotel. He was somewhat damp for the walk to the hotel from the Hyde Park Corner tube station.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:10, Tue 04 Oct 2011.

Cynthia is distinctly avoiding preparing at this point (at least until after the gentlemen do). Since she has nothing else occupying her time, she'll continue reading and perhaps catch up with some old friends in the area.

Phil grabs his darts and heads out looking for a pub where he can 'toss' a few.  He asks the Concierge for a pub that allows dart throwing.
[OOC: As his encounter in the fog did not happen, he feels it safe to walk the streets of London.]

"I don't suppose we want to get there before eight or so. I'll ask room service to send up a couple of roasted chickens and some escalloped potatoes and cold asparagus, maybe a bottle of champagne around seven."

Lampton asks Simmons to be certain his evening clothes are presentable, then settles in for another few hours of reading.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:28, Tue 04 Oct 2011.

Singh comes into the rooms as everyone is splitting up. He says that he was unable to gain entry to the club, but it's in a better neighborhood than he had feared. He also says that he was accosted by a police detective, who apparently is watching the place.

He instructs the maid to draw a bath for Miss Cynthia at six and have whatever ensemble she wants ready at that time. Then he lays out his best clothes and brushes them up, chuckling a bit at his interaction with the detective.

In reply to Phil Webley (msg #25):

The Concierge looked Phil up and down a little dubiously, suppressing a shudder.

Now that Phil was fitted for suits he would look presentable as soon as they arrived... tomorrow. The tailor (Cohen was the name) who'd taken his measure had done a few spot repairs on Phil's jacket and pants, making him a little more presentable.

"Very good, sir. Try up and down Piccadilly if you must. Or, there is a bar here in the hotel which I believe features darts. You'll need a tie. Which we will provide."

After thinking a little, the concierge also directed him to a pub a some blocks away that he suspected catered more to people that were, if perhaps not his exact class, could tolerate his kind.

Then it hit Phil like a hammer. He could get hammered! That is, there was no prohibition or dry laws here in England. He could order a Goddamn single-malt whiskey if he wanted without going to a speakeasy or dealing with the bootleggers, hunting up some dodgy bathtub gin or worrying about the cops busting his head open!


OOC: Please narrate Phil's bar-going experience. Nothing's going to jump out at him in the middle of the afternoon. Piccadilly is a pretty posh area and seriously, there would be class concerns if he wanders into a bar near the hotel, to put it bluntly. If he doesn't spend too much time getting bombed then there's a chicken dinner and champaigne waiting for him in the suite he shares with Major Storm.

"Roll the dice to see if I'm getting drunk!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:26, Tue 04 Oct 2011.

With an easy familiarity gained by a lifetime of practice, Simmons got out Howard's evening wear. When supper arrived he set it out for his pleasure.

In reply to Imran Singh (msg #27):

Getting Miss Cynthia ready for the evening was a task that Imran was well-accustomed to. The suite had a parlour area that was suitable for taking dinner.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:23, Tue 04 Oct 2011.