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11 East 73rd St., New York, NY
January 16, 1925



This message was last edited by the GM at 02:33, Mon 11 Aug 2014.

Bishop had driven the others back to the Elias home. Given what Poole had said about the killing and it connection to others killings that were believed to be ritualistic murders by a secretive cult, Bishop suggested that everyone spend the night at the Elias home.

Once everyone was settled in, Bishop had gotten a bottle and a glass and poured himself a double. For the first time he let it hit him that Jack was dead. There would need to be arrangements, a wake and a funeral. Stanley had lost a lot of friends during the war, he had lost his wife and daughter, and now he had lost his oldest friend. He felt like there was less and less of him everyday. Even he knew he was a shadow of the man he had been.

Having killed Jack's killers helped. But they were part of something bigger. something evil. It seemed that Jack was just one of many to die at their hands. Bishop had no idea how many of them there were left, but sitting alone with his guns and his drink in the dark parlor of the Elias home, he committed to seeing them destroyed.

Waking in the armchair, he had gone to the kitchen where he knew he would find the cooks baking bread and preparing for breakfast. The cooks were all red eyed, and occasionally one would break into sobbing before the others braced them. The Elias family were kind employers, and although Jack was often traveling his loss was a great blow to all.

After breakfast a more than a few cups of coffee, Stan made his way back to the parlor. It was well suited to a gathering of those who had been to the hotel. Jack had sought help, Stan and Bo had already committed to help, but while capable men their was likely a need for skills that neither men possessed.

Jack's murder might have been an old score, settled when he returned to New York, or it might be related to his investigation into the ill fated Carlyle Expedition. Either way it would likely call for some continued research into the esoteric world which Jack had inhabited these past years. Some of the others possessed the needed skills and while now doubt in shock were likely to want to help.

When Stanley heard the paper delivered he went out to retrieve it and looed for reports, while he waited for the others to rise.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:49, Sun 03 Aug 2014.

Leo had spent most of his time since the events at the hotel consoling his wife, grieving in his own way, making arrangements, and seeing that everyone was able to stay comfortable in his residence. It felt good to have people around - Leo just wished the circumstances were otherwise.

He took his breakfast with his wife, who was intermittently breaking down, and helped her with some of the arrangements. However, once he finished with what he could do, he kissed his wife on the cheek and excused himself to join the others.

Leo went to his own room and snatched his pipe, filling it and tamping it before he went downstairs. He lit his pipe just as he entered the room. Leo was still dressed somewhat casually for him - he had already donned slacks and shirt, but wore no jacket at the moment.

He took a deep draw from the pipe and held it for a moment before releasing his breath. It helped calm his nerves as he looked around at those that had gathered. "Seems Jack shoved his hand into some kind of hornets nest, didn't he." It was somewhere between a statement and a question. Perhaps more of an observation about which he was hoping others would consider and provide commentary.

Rosalie had stayed at the hospital late into the evening to make certain that Walter was being cared for properly and was as comfortable as he could be.  Even when she returned to the Elias house, she'd slept very little.  Her thoughts were of Jackson, how he must have spent the last few minutes of his life, and what secrets he had uncovered to set such horrible people against him.  She rose early, ate a meager breakfast, and then retired to the sitting room to gather with the others.  At the small table normally reserved for card playing, she emptied her handbag of the various clues they'd collected from Jackson's killers.  Leaning back in her chair, she sipped at her coffee, contemplating possible links between the items.  If anything, it helped to keep her mind off of Jackson's death.

Bishop had put down the paper, stood to greet Dr. Elias as he entered the room. Stan was wearing a fresh suit. He had some gotten some blood on the other one. The shirt was likely ruined, but the small stains would not show on the dark wool of the suit.

"It seems he did. I have been sitting here thinking on things. I know you might have matters to attend to .." Bishop did not mention the funeral ".. but based on what Lieutenant Poole said, some of those likely for Jack's demise are still out there."<blue>

Seeing Rosalie spill out the contents of the purse, the clues he and the others had collected, Bishop continued "I wondered if you might not assemble the others so we could go over what we gathered from Jack's room. I can round done some of the leads. But there are matters in which I have no expertise. Jack asked for our assistance, I am hoping the others will join in completing the task."</Blue>

He was still speaking with Dr. Elias when Rosalie, and then Annabelle came in the room.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:16, Mon 04 Aug 2014.

     Annabel, escorted by one of the servants entered the sitting room and surveyed the mood of its occupants. It was what she expected. The unexpected death of Jackson had hit everyone hard and put them all in various moods. She herself wasn't sure what to think. Sure, she was sad for the family, but Jackson had been a stranger to her and as such, her feelings were more of a detachment compared to the others. She had also not seen the body, which she heard was horrifying, of which she was grateful indeed. She had no idea how she would have reacted to it, and feared it would not have been a very ladylike one.

    She greeted those in the room and went up to Dr. Elias. "I hope you were able to sleep some Sir," she said. In a more hesitant voice, Annabel added. "If there is anything I can do regarding your practice or anything else, please let me know."

  She had disregarded her previous idea of going away. She really didn't want to go back home so soon and Dr. Elias may need her in some capacity; so she felt she should stay in New York just in case.

   She looked over at Rosalie sitting at the table looking at a series of various objects. "What are those," Annabel asked; "did they come from the hotel?"

On one of the pages of the Times, Stanley found a short article referring to Jackson's death.

Leo greeted the others in the room and watched Rosalie pull out what she had secreted away in her purse the evening before. His face hardened at the suggestion he had other matters to attend. "Few things are more important to me right now than discovering who did this to Jackson. Kate and I discussed some of the, er, details of future proceedings this morning. Distraught as she is, deciding on how we'll say our final good-bye forces her to do something besides mourn the loss of her boy."

He walked over and looked at the information on the card table. It was most often used for games of Bridge between the Elias couple and their friends, though they would likely have to cancel this evening's game. He turned to face Bishop, "I believe this is all that was collected from the room. Seems to be from all over the place, though the Carlyle expedition appears to feature prominently. I wonder if all of this was taken from Jackson, or if any of it was collected separately. Bits from New York, London, Cairo, Shanghai...and a professor from Australia. Plus the suggestion from Lt. Poole that there might be a connection to other murders. He might be able to tell us something more about what the other victims have in common."

The first thing Bo realized when he awoke in the hospital was that Rosalie had gone. She was there as he faded into a sedative-eased sleep and he was grateful. It had been some years since he had entered into such a violent scene, longer since he himself had been injured. The death of his cousin, a man he regarded almost as a brother, unsettled him even more.

He picked at the hospital breakfast left-handed to minimize the tug of the stitches that closed up the wound along his ribcage. The ribs weren't broken, but cracked and badly bruised. The loss of blood left him feeling weak and worn. On the other hand, a few inches lower and the machete would have ripped open his belly, spilling his intestines around his feet. He'd seen men die that way before. He couldn't remember seeing anyone live with such a wound.

By the time the doctor made his rounds and pronounced him well enough for release, he felt more than ready. The nurses helped him dress in his second-best (and last remaining) suit, tied his shoes for him, and pinned a sling around his right arm, 'just to remind you.'

Uncle Leo's chauffeur was waiting for him at the entrance and bundled him into the back of the car with a robe tucked around his knees. Soon they were at the house and he was taken up to his room. After a bit, he realized the room had been Jack's when they were young.

He dozed briefly in a chair beside the remains of coffee and buns. When he roused himself to go downstairs, Lawrence conducted him to the parlor where Leo and Stanley were talking, while Miss Ashcroft hovered uncertainly nearby. Rosalie looked up from some items she was studying.

"Morning, everyone."

As the last of the others arrived Bishop offered a nod.. He had thought a lot last night. Now looking over the clues one more time he laid it on the table for the others "I have set a meeting with Lieutenant Poole later today. I'll get a list of the names of the victims. I'm hoping to get a look at the case files as well, but that might be a long shot with Poole."

"I am hoping to get a lead on the black car seen leaving the scene. If not from the police, than from the staff of the Chelsea." Bishop decided not to mention the morgue in front of all of the others.

"Of the other leads, I suggest the obvious, we start with New York. We have the import place on the West Side. That is Hell's Kitchen near the docks. That's a rough area, might be dangerous. We got a name on the back, Silas N'Kwane as well might be linked, might be Jack using it to scribble a note. Since the name sounds African it might be our best lead."

"Next is the Australian Professor. We probably already missed his lecture, but he might still be hanging around the university."

"Then we Jack's publisher, perhaps he knows more about what Jack is working on, maybe even an angle on why Jack was killed. Since we know he was digging into the Carlyle Expedition, someone might want to do some digging into it as well. "

"Might also be useful if someone followed up with this Miriam Atwright from Harvard."

"It is important to remember that this is an active investigation, and while Poole isn't a bad guy, he might not appreciate us stepping on his toes. More importantly we are looking for people willing to kill to keep a secret. So we need to be discreet."

"All that said, any involvement in this is likely going to be dangerous. Jack would not want anyone of you to get hurt. So if you do not feel compelled to find his killers, it might be best to walk away now."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:35, Mon 04 Aug 2014.

Abe… Now, where was to even begin?  Since leaving the scene of Jackson’s murder, he’d drifted from one confusing thought to the next.  Death had a funny way to it.  In the immediate aftermath it seemed both completely unreal and utterly devastating.  The facts were there in brutal detail but they didn’t add up to anything his brain could put to reason.  He supposed that was why he’d seen soldiers, kids who couldn’t even grow a proper mustache, break down giggling when they saw a friend torn apart by artillery fire and a head or familiar appendage was tossed into their line of sight.  As they dug the mangled but recognizable thing out of French dirt and picked it up they started laughing while tears streamed down their cheeks. And people wondered why he drank.

At Stanley’s request, Abe stayed the night, bunking in one of Dr. Elias’s spare rooms. He’d wanted to retire as his own flat.  Right then the comfort of his writing chair byt the window overlooking the roadway that ran outside his flat would’ve been a fine return to a sense normalcy.  He hadn’t wanted much to do with the other members of the family.  Not yet.  Give him any party, even the chance to screw things up worse for himself, but keep the wake for a time when he was out of town.

Come the morning, Abe rejoined the family, for the first time in a very long time completely sober though one might be hard pressed to tell.  Abe hadn’t changed from his party suit and now the wrinkled ensemble gave him the look of a rather disheveled reveler who’d been privy to some week-long festival of Bacchanalian debauchery.  Red eyed, unshaven, and with a sour yet weary look on his face, he found his way into the sitting room with the others to listen.

At least Bishop seemed inclined to take some action.  Aware and painfully sober, action seemed like the only productive course to take.  ”A good lead he might be, but, ah, are you up for any trouble you might get asking around Hell’s Kitchen if this Mr. N’Kwane is involved with the murders? Both of you took it rough at the hotel.  If something like that goes down again, do you think you’d be starting with a bit of a handicap?  I’m not saying we should give up looking after Jackson’s affairs on our own, but you’re meeting with the lieutenant.  Would that of this mess be better left to Poole?”

"I agree it could be risky, but Poole and the police have been working this case for a long time." Bishop said without mentioning the nine murders. "I would like to take a shot at running down these leads. If we get close we can bring the lieutenant in to make the arrests." Bishop said.

"Honestly given the nature of these clues and Jack's work, I don't think the New York Police Department are equipped to solves this crime. Many of us have probably read Jack's books, and many of you have expertise in related fields."

What do the rest of you think?" Stan asked the others.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:07, Mon 04 Aug 2014.

"These all came from the men that attacked us yesterday, or from Jackson's room," she said softly to Annabel.  "We think they might somehow be involved or lead us to more information on why all of this has happened."  She waved one hand at Stanley as he went into more detail, explaining it better than she could.

Glancing up as Walter entered the room, she rose from her chair and moved to greet him.  "Bo, I hope you're feeling better this morning.  I had the full report from the doctor after you went to sleep last night, so I know exactly how little you should be straining yourself today.  Come and sit down and rest.  Can I pour you some coffee?"

Leo turned an appraising eye to Walter as he arrived. So long as he didn't strain at the stitching in his side, the man should heal quite nicely, though Leo would be certain to personally look after the wound on regular basis. He felt somewhat responsible for dragging them all into this, if for no other reason than he had been roughly fifty-percent responsible for the production of Jackson.

He took his pipe out of his mouth for several moments while the others spoke, listening to what each had to say in turn. "There will be some risk, but we can take some steps to mitigate those. The police may not have been able to solve this yet, but perhaps that's partly because they don't have the information we've collected. I'm not entirely comfortable withholding information from the police, but I'll leave that to you, Stanley. In particular, they might be able to provide some information on this N'Kwane fellow, or help track down that piece of this puzzle. Poole might even be willing to go with us to follow up on that particular lead."

Leo scanned the information arrayed on the table again. "I think we can split up and start tracking down some of these bits. Stanley, perhaps you can take Walter and visit Poole, and see if you can find out more about that sedan. Also, see if you can get access to the morgue or find out who may have done autopsies on the other victims of the prior murders. Perhaps there are even pictures of the victims' bodies. Speaking of pictures - does anyone own a camera? If not, I can procure a few."

Leo then tapped a finger on the letter from the publisher. "Abraham and Rosie, perhaps you can follow up the lead with the publisher - find out for what book Jack asked Miriam Atwright. You can also try to determine on what Jackson was most recently working. I can place some calls to NYU to try to find the professor, and Miss Ashcroft and I can try to follow up in person if necessary. I'd also like to try to speak with Erica Carlyle. Perhaps there is some information she has on the expedition that would be of use."

  "Oh" Annabel said looking curiously at the objects. She listened to Stanley's explanation and possible leads on their search for additional clues on what was going on. When Dr. Elias suggested she help him, Annabel nodded.

  "Yes, anything I can do to help," she said eagerly. "I"m afraid I don't have the worldly experience that the rest of you have, but I can still help with the mundane and social stuff around town. If you need to make calls, or run around town, I'm your girl." 

In reply to Rosalie Elias (msg # 13):

Walter gave Rosalie a tight smile and let her conduct him to a chair, accepting a cup of coffee. As Stanley and Leo spoke, he casually looked through the materials Rosalie had been perusing, eyelids drooping heavily.

At Leo's suggestion that he and Stanley visit Poole, he looked up. "If it's all the same to you, Uncle Leo, I'd rather not bring myself to police attention the day after killing a couple of guys. Anyway, today I'm not sure I have the strength for a cab ride. Maybe I'll visit with Aunt Catherine for a while this afternoon and puzzle over these scrapbook items."

Bishop nodded "Probably best I see Poole on my own, and you rest up Bo." Bishop agreed.

"Dr. Elias, I agree you are the correct person to reach out to Erica Carlyle. In is uncertain that the killings are connected to the ill fated expedition, so unless we find something to connect the two I am uncertain of the approach."

"We still need someone to follow up with that Miss Atwood, just in case the publisher does not know anything about it." Looked over the group.

Leo nodded at Bo's response. "I'm sure Kate would appreciate the company. She seems to be handling things fairly well, but she does enjoy company."

He then turned to face Stanley. "I'd prefer if none of us were alone right now. If Bo isn't going with you, then I will. Who is Miss Atwood?" Leo scanned the documents they had been provided to see if he missed something about a woman named Atwood.

Abraham thought back over the evidence they’d seen yesterday.  There were some holes in his memory, a few blank spots where he’d thought he seen something important but now that important thing had flitted away, leaving him with only the ghost of lost memory.  He’d want to reread the scraps of Jackson’s letters and everything concerning the publisher—actually, he’d like to see everything about the case again, but Leo’s suggestion seemed the best course of action.

”Prospero Press, was it?” He asked rhetorically.  ”Might be kinder if I tracked down Mr. N’Kwane.  Kinder for the publisher.  I’ll go, and if Rosalie is willing I’d appricate the help.”

But first, Abe had a little side trip he’d like to make before heading on to Prospero Press.  He didn’t plan on impinging on Leo’s hospitality and begging for new clothes after acting like a drunken lout yesterday, so he planned on taking Mr. Sawyer’s Chevy back to his flat, stepping inside and finding something a little more practical than his fancy party dress.  Oh, and that business yesterday with the thugs.  They wouldn’t go around investigating what had got Jackson murdered unarmed.

"I believe Mr. Bishop meant Miss Atwright, sir," he said to the doctor as he swept through the room, gracefully and unobtrusively removing empty coffee cups and filling them as needed.

"I won't be alone. I will be in a precinct house full of cops. That is part of it, I would rather not have Poole asking to many questions. If it is just me he knows it will be quid pro quo."

"But maybe with all your training you can out fox a flat foot Doc. So I will leave it up to you." Bishop replied.

"As far a this Silas Kwane, I suggest we run down these other angles first. We want to know what we are dealing with before we risk tipping our hand."

"If it as Poole thinks and these characters are responsible for all these killings, they not going anyplace. By now they are pretty cocky. This last time was a set back but can't see 'em blowing town."

"So we can run down the import export place and K'wane after we run down these other leads."

Leo's face clouded at the response from Stanley. "Out fox the flat foot? Why would I be trying to do that? Are we somehow at odds with the police? At any rate, I thought you were also possibly planning to go to the hotel to ask after the car. The scene of Jackson's demise might be a place being watched by associates of the men who did it."

He paused and looked at the card with N'Kwane's name on it. "I think we should also find out a bit about this Emerson Imports place, if we can, before showing up there. Perhaps Poole can be of use. Any other ideas on how we can get some information on the business?"

  Annabel piped up. "I could always ask my father about them; being in shipping maybe he has dealt with or has heard something about the company. I can make a quick call back home to ask. I believe he's around and not out of the country right now"


  She really didn't how what he could tell her, but she wanted to be of use, some use to help her employer.

"If Miss Ashcroft's idea doesn't pan out," Walter offered, "I could make a call to a guy I know."