Play@YSDC

Not a lot goes on at the corner of West and College. Quiet places are where people send candid troublemakers like Dutch. The environments are dull. The assignments are even duller. Find out who's been doing this, they say, and "this" is never anything worth investigating.

Somebody's been making noise around this area. Disturbing beloved flowerpots, screaming at the sky in the middle of the night, generally engaging in crazy behavior. Last Dutch heard, they hadn't caught him yet. It doesn't seem too unsettled, though. A few people pass by, doing ordinary things, moving about in normal ways. Nobody really notices him surveying the streets.

Off in the distance, there's a loud crash.

Dutch turns his head to the origin of the sound. Probably some damn college kids running wrecked a car, or had too much fun at a speakeasy and knocked over some trashcans. He hustles towards the sound of the crash, faster than a jog, but not a breakneck sprint. It was one of the little things the brass encouraged, to keep the public calm during "non-critical" responses. Dutch grumbles under his breath as he runs to the scene.

It doesn't take a sleuth to plainly see the source of the noise at the scene: it is indeed a knocked-over trashcan, spilling common garbage across the street. Shards of glass, pieces of clay, and - is that blood? - litter the area as well.

A second after Dutch arrives, though, he catches a glimpse of a figure rushing past him, towards the University. They don't look like a panicked college student, though - there's something off about the way they're running. Like they don't even know where they're headed.

Dutch's initial focus on the blood is overtaken by the rushing figure. Crap. Why do people always run? Instinctively, he turns and begins to run after the figure. Hell, the trashcan will still be there when I get back. He decides against drawing his piece, in case the runner is just a passerby who saw something in the trashcan and got spooked. He calls out to the figure.

"Hey Mac, put the brakes on! Arkham Police Department!"

The man either doesn't hear him or doesn't listen, because he keeps running. When he stops, next to the University, there doesn't seem to be a reason for it - then he turns and slams himself into one of the windows. A young woman out of sight shrieks, and a man who must be near her can be heard shouting:

"Oh, God, what - who are - your face...!"

Dutch sprints after the man. Doesn't seem like a drunk. A nervous breakdown? Either way, this guy's trouble. The sound of screaming and panic tells Dutch that he needs to put a stop to this situation immediately, before one nutcase turns into mass hysteria.

"Arkham Police! Stop right now!"

The man still doesn't listen, refusing to cease pounding on the window. At least, until another man runs around the University, shouting "You there, what do you think you're doing?" and grabs his arm. Then he stops, and merely stands there.

As Dutch nears the scene, the screaming woman comes into view, her palms pressed against her eyes. She's young - probably a student.

Three other men come running from the opposite direction. One sprints ahead and pulls the girl away from the scene. "Eliza, God, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have..." Dutch recognizes his voice as belonging to the man who was with her. If he ran to get help, he must have been fast.

The moment Dutch catches up, the runaway slowly turns around.

Jacob,Please move to the following thread: [url=http://www.callofcthulhu.org.uk/viewtopic.php?f=224&t=3194]Perception[/url]

Upon coming back to the overturned trash can, Dutch can tell that the scene is as he left it. Wind has no doubt blown some of the lighter garbage away, but most of it has gone undisturbed.

Dutch crouches near the trashcan so that he can look inside. Taking his pencil out, he uses it to delicately move away any refuse while he searches for clues.

GM,Spot Hidden Roll [url]http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3513769/[/url]

Among the more common items found in any old trash can, there are a few oddities. A broken flower pot has thrown a spray of dirt over a large portion of the garbage, and some long-stemmed white blossoms are strewn about, looking as sad as flowers can look. There's a trowel lying next to the lip of the can (who throws away a trowel?) and what looks to have been a piece of fruit pie. The presumed plate is a few inches away, a huge crack through its middle.

Shards of glass, splinters of wood, and tiny splatters of dried blood litter the scene.

Strangely, Dutch gets the feeling he's being followed. Probably somebody curious from the crowd at the University.

Jean inspects the overturned trash can from behind Dutch's shoulder.

"Excuse me, you seem to know what you are doing, and . . . What are you doing?"

Dutch looks up to see one of the bystanders has followed him. "I'm looking for clues, Ma'am," he says. "The man ran down this way. He bumped into this trashcan. hopefully, I'll be able to find witnesses the how this started, rather than the casual onlookers gawking at the end of the trail."

. . . casual onlookers gawking . . .

"That's me!

"Actually, I want to know what's going on in this creepy town. Buy me coffee, tell me what you've found out, and I'll give you a 'Class A' witness."

Jean (an extremely tall woman) sizes up Dutch.

"There are not too many men I can look up to."

Dutch looks at the woman with a raised eyebrow. "Well, I can't discuss police business. But, if I can talk to this witness, I'd be able to wrap up this case, and there's a good diner near campus that I'd be able to take you for that cup of coffee."

. . . and there's a good diner near campus that I'd be able to take you for that cup of coffee."

"Sounds good."

"Fantastic," Dutch says with a smile. "I'm Detective Vrees, by the way, but people call me Dutch. Where is the Class A witness?"

"Dutch, I'm Ms. Ross, but Jean only, please.

"Quid pro quo--answer some of my concerns about Arkham, and then I'll tell you what I know."

Dutch tilts his hat back a bit. "Jean, I'd be happy to discuss any concerns you might have. But I'm on the job and on the clock right now, and I really don't have time to get into a chat about Arkham's storied past while there's a nutcase with no eyes bleeding all over street. So pretty please, with sugar on top, tell me where I can find this witness."

Jean looks towards the lunatic, then back to Dutch.

"Of course.

"The newsboy who delivers to my apartment: he saw everything. I don't know his name, but I live at Sunshine Villas, the Docks, and the newsagent is that one on the corner of Miskatonic Street and Merchant Drive, with the 'barber shop' awning."

"Thank you, Jean," Dutch says warmly. "Once I speak with the newsboy, I'll be able to discuss Arkham with you over that cup of coffee, if you're available." Once he wraps up with Jean, Dutch will make his way to the news agent to locate the witness.

Captain Impossible wrote:". . . if you're available."

"Yes, I'd like that chat . . . "

Jean,Return to your own thread: [url=http://www.callofcthulhu.org.uk/viewtopic.php?f=224&t=3185&p=129190#p129190]A View of the Water[/url]

At the corner of Miskatonic and Merchant, the awning isn't hard to spot amidst all the dreariness that pervades Arkham. A young boy - about ten or eleven - is standing in front of the newsstand, one arm protectively curled around the handlebars of his bicycle. He's having some conversation with the man behind the stand.

Dutch approaches the newstand. He looks at the kid and the man behind the counter. As he nears them, he takes out his police badge. "Excuse me, sir," he calls out to the clerk. "I'm Detective Vrees. There was an injured man by College Street. I was told that one of the newsboys may have witnessed how he got injured. I'd like to talk with him."

The brown-haired boy spins around to face Dutch, his eyes going wide. "Wow! You're a real live detective? I heard about them in the pictures, but I never--"

"Marcus," grunts the man, giving Dutch a cool, level stare. "Tell the man what you were just telling me."

"What? Oh." Marcus cocks his head to one side, then takes a deep breath and relays a stream of information. "I was riding past the Miss... Miss-ke... that college with the funny name, and there was a man banging himself against the window like he wanted to get inside but didn't know what a door was, and a girl was screaming and it was all awful queer."

A pause.

"Dunno why everybody keeps asking about it."

Dutch keeps his badge out a little longer than normal, both to reassure the owner that he's on the level and break the ice with kid. He chuckles when the kid wonders why everyone is interested. "Heck, Marcus, it's not everyday you see something like that. Who else has been asking around about the man?" Dutch keeps his tone light, but he wants to see if there's anyone besides the vicarious rubberneckers snooping. You can never tell in Arkham.

"Umm, there was a real tall and pretty woman with curly hair who wanted to know. I told her to stay inside but she didn't listen." Marcus frowns, scrunching up his face. "Alfred asked too." He points over his shoulder at the owner.

"They don't really ask around. People just ask how my day went and I tell them the truth, that I saw an awful strange thing today. Then they have to ask what it is like they don't believe me." He folds his arms and scuffs at the ground with his shoe. "Feels like the only one who doesn't want to know is my sister."

"I see. When he was banging his head on the window, was he already injured?"

Marcus shrugs. "Don't know nothing about him being injured, though I guess he had to be - there was some stuff on the window but I didn't really look at that."

"From the back, he kind of looked like this man who comes to talk to my sister... same color hair and all, but I didn't see his face."

"Tell me, Marcus, how often does this man talk with your sister? If she's his friend, she'd want to know he's been hurt."

"He comes to see her a lot. Not so much lately, though." Marcus cocks his head to one side. "Don't know why. We live in the same apartment building and everything. D'you think she'd know?"

"And anyway, he didn't seem the type to be running into walls. He was always chattering about stars or whatever."

Dutch tries to keep his tone light. "Well, it doesn't hurt to play it safe. Do you know where your sister is presently?"

"She should be at home now. Simpson Apartments on Walnut Street. Apartment 6, on the second floor." Marcus smiles to himself, apparently proud of his memory. "I'm done with my route. I could walk you there, but it might be a while. Walnut Street's over in Southside."

"Won't be a problem, kid. I have my car parked nearby. I have to go talk with some of the other policemen first anyways."

"Well, all right," Marcus says, hopping onto his bicycle. "See you later, maybe."

Then he's gone, riding down the street in a flurry of spokes. Alfred watches him go, then turns back to Dutch.

"Watch yourself around Judith, detective," he says. "Marcus is a good kid, but his sister's trouble. Remember what side of the law you're on."

Dutch is taken aback by Marcus' words. "I'm a detective, pal. It takes more than dame to make me forsake my oaths. But what sort of trouble is she? Anything I'd come across in the station files, or a more discrete kind?"

"...Discreet, yeah." Alfred nods. "Not that I don't believe in your oaths, detective, but Judith's something else."

"We'll see," Dutch says, before turning away. He decides to head back to the university and check in with Sergeant Willem. The case, while unsettling, seems fairly open and shut. He'll help the uniforms question the remaining witnesses, then pay a visit to this Judith.

Though not much time has passed, the Sergeant and the other two officers have evidently left the scene. The only people here are Jean and the grumpy janitor, idly discussing Arkham's pervasive strangeness.

Dutch,Sorry about that--if you'd like to join their conversation, [url=http://www.callofcthulhu.org.uk/pbp/viewtopic.php?f=224&t=3194&start=80#p154243]you may do so.[/url] Otherwise, stay in your own thread and head wherever you'll be investigating next.

Dutch decides to head back to the police station. He gives everything he knows, including that he intends to talk with Judith. He presumes he can get Jean's information from the police report. After some rest, he will wrangle the witnesses and close the case. Vrees is not as confident about the case as he wished to be. When he was a beat cop, he broke up the kidnapping ring, those men shouting peculiar chants. Chants that made Dutch question why children always disappeared around Halloween. Arkham was fully invested in the abnormal being swept under the carpet.

After the craziness, Dutch decides that this case will answer others. He requests ownership of it, and requests a list of witnesses.

Dutch decides to head back to the police station. He gives everything he knows, including that he intends to talk with Judith. He presumes he can get Jean's information from the police report. After some rest, he will wrangle the witnesses and close the case. Vrees is not as confident about the case as he wished to be. When he was a beat cop, he broke up the kidnapping ring, those men shouting peculiar chants. Chants that made Dutch question why children always disappeared around Halloween. Arkham was fully invested in the abnormal being swept under the carpet.

After the craziness, Dutch decides that this case will answer others. He requests ownership of it, and requests a list of witnesses.

The police report, as it currently stands, provides the following information:

Last night, around three o'clock in the morning, residents of the Simpson Apartments on Walnut Street were awakened by cacophonous shrieking. The source of the disturbance was a 26 year-old man named Michael Farr, residing in Apartment 5. Police were called immediately and upon their arrival, they forced the door open and found Farr screaming and engaged in bloody self-mutilation, specifically scratching at his face and gouging out his eyes. At this point a young woman, Judith Taylor, attempted to push past officers into the apartment and had to be removed from the scene.

Farr was transported by ambulance to St. Mary's Hospital for immediate medical treatment, and was to be delivered to the Sanitarium as he was completely incoherent. However, shortly after the ambulance departed the hospital, Farr somehow tore through his straitjacket and escaped on foot. Officers were notified and set out to recapture him.

He was found outside the Miskatonic University at around eight o'clock by students Dean Goodwin and Eliza Cooper. According to the former, they were on a walk and witnessed Farr smashing flowerpots and further injuring himself. Others present at the scene by the time officers arrived were Brewster Cushing, university groundskeeper, librarian Peter Walton, Professor Henry Witherspoon, detective Jacob Vrees, Jean Ross, and Dr. Andrew Morrison, who provided limited medical treatment.

Farr was apprehended by officers and is currently being transported by ambulance to the Sanitarium.

Dutch reviews the names of the witnesses and looks up their addresses and phone numbers. He writes down the contact information and lets the station chief know that the detective is heading out to interview Judith Taylor. That done, Vrees gets into his car and drives over the the Simpson Apartments on Walnut Street. He parks his car on the side of the road, and waits a moment. Arkham was a place of secrets, and the detective was wary of this woman whom the news vendor gave warnings, if only vaguely. Dutch removes the paper containing the contact information of the witnesses tucks it under his seat. He heads into the apartments.

Southside is a part of the city that has been badly neglected over the years, and Walnut Street is no exception. The buildings are old and ill-maintained, and the road is littered with potholes and cracks.

Despite the squalor, the people who live on Walnut Street seem cheerful. Little Italian children play games of marbles with each other and bounce on Pogo sticks, and several women go about their domestic duties with bright smiles. None of those women could be Judith, though--they're certainly too old to conceivably be Marcus's sister.

The atmosphere is similarly pleasant inside the Simpson Apartments. It helps that the door to Apartment 1 is ajar, allowing Dutch to smell something delicious cooking.

Peter parks his bicycle outside the building and puts the bundle of notes he took from the historical society building under his arm. He scans the building from the outside before stepping inside.

Vrees continues on his path. Seeing the children and housewives going about their business brings a smile to the detective's face, reminding him of when he was a simple beat cop. Dutch walks up a stairwell, remembering the apartment is supposed to be on the second floor. His gaze briefly goes to the door of Apartment 5, where Farr had his breakdown. He then heads to Apartment 6 and knocks on the door.

Inside the building, Peter can see the door to Apartment 1 is open. A strong, zesty smell indicates something tasty cooking inside. Apartments 2, 3, and 4 are all closed. The stairs creak under the detective's feet as he disappears up to the next floor.

Behind the door to Apartment 6, Dutch can hear the sound of clattering dishes. At his knock, the noise stops suddenly. Nobody comes to answer the door.

Peter's stomach growl as he inhale the smell, he shakes the feeling and refocus his senses. Seeing that door no. 5 is on the second floor he goes up with caution.

Hearing the apartment go silent, Dutch quietly takes out his pistol, and begins to turn the door knob. In bad neighborhoods like this, people frequently locked their doors, but there was always the chance Judith Taylor either didn't or had forgotten. As he attempts to open the door, he says, "Miss Taylor, Arkham Police Department!" If the door opens, the detective will enter the apartment. Otherwise, he knocks again before trying anything more aggressive.

Peter approaches the door to Apartment 5.

Dutch finds that Apartment 6 is locked up tight, but there's a rush of footsteps in response to his words. The door opens just enough to reveal the face and figure of a pale, bedraggled young lady. Her brown hair hangs loose around her face and there are deep, dark shadows under her eyes. The wrinkles and lines developing on her face make it difficult to tell just how old she might be.

"What's this all about, sir?" she asks in a shaky voice.

"I just had a few questions regarding the incident in Apartment 5," Dutch says as he quietly reholsters his pistol. "May I come inside, Miss Taylor?"

Peter stops as he reach the floor. he eyes the detective that speaks to the young lady in apartment 6.
He understands that the man is a police man, he tries to remember if he saw the man earlier in the university.

Peter remembers the detective from earlier in the morning. He was outside the Physics Department, with Peter and the others.

Judith hesitates, sadness flickering on her face when Dutch mentions 'the incident.' She sighs heavily and tugs the door open all the way. "S-sure. Come in. Shut the door behind you. Please." She steps back to let him in.

Dutch enters the apartment, closing the door behind him. "I know this must be difficult, but you were in Farr's apartment when he ... lost it." Dutch wishes he knew a more diplomatic way to put it. "What was he doing before he harmed himself?"

Peter stands for several moments and eyes the door where the two vanished, he then shift his gaze to apartment no. 5 and knocks on the door before trying the door knob.

"It's open," hollers a male voice in response to Peter's knocking. The door is not locked and Peter enters.

Peter,Return to your own thread: [url=http://www.callofcthulhu.org.uk/pbp/viewtopic.php?f=224&t=3186&p=154927#p154927]In Crumbling Pages[/url]

Apartment 6 is as run-down as the rest of Walnut Street, but at least it's clean. Judith gestures toward the threadbare sofa as she moves toward the kitchenette. She freezes up mid-stride and looks over her shoulder at Dutch, flushing hotly. "I-- I wasn't in his apartment, sir, I don't know what he was doing."

With a sigh, she turns around, rubs her eyes, and blinks at him. "I woke up in the middle of the night and Michael was screaming. I guess the landlord called the police because they were there before I really knew what was happening. When I did, they'd got his door open and I tried to get in, but they wouldn't let me."

"I... saw blood. B-but not much else. And he's gone somewhere. He's-- he was my friend, sir."

Dutch listens to to woman's tale, waiting for the Judith to sit before taking a seat himself. "You need not worry. He was found near the university, and taken to St. Mary's. You said Michaelwas screaming. Was he saying anything when he screamed?"

Judith relaxes a little, and seats herself at the far end of the sofa. "Not much... 'no' and 'please' were all I heard. Mostly he was just crying..."

Dutch listens as Judith talks. He tries to put two and two together. "Was Michael going through anything traumatic beforehand? A recent tragedy or may be some trouble at work?"

"Not anything he told me about." Judith folds her hands under her chin, looking thoughtful. "We... hadn't seen much of each other before last night. Not for any real reason, he was just too busy with his telescope."

"Was he interested in astronomy?" Dutch asks. "How long did you know Michael?" The detective makes a mental note to look at this telescope, assuming it wasn't in evidence. Whatever the man was looking at, it was important to his state of mind. Dutch remembers what the man said to him.

"I think that's what he called it--astronomy." Judith sounds out the word with a deliberate carefulness. "He had a book he wrote stuff down in, about stars and all. Sometimes he let me look through his telescope and he'd show me all kinds of things." A small, wistful smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. "Saturn was his favorite planet. I never knew there was anything else out there, so far away."

She clears her throat and sits up a little straighter. "I think he must have moved in earlier last year, but I've only really known him since Christmas."

"Well, I think that's enough questions for now, Miss Taylor," Dutch says as he gets up. The detective makes his way to the door. "If you remember anything else, even if it seems irrelevant, don't hesitate to contact me." He gives Judith one of his cards, before making his way to the door. He decides to stop in at the apartment where Michael first lost it. If nothing else, the notebook will be of interest to the doctors.

"Okay." Judith nods as she takes the card. "I... I hope I did good, sir. Maybe you should talk to my brother Marcus too--he wasn't there last night, he sneaks out sometimes, but he's a paper boy, so he sees a lot of things around the city."

She stands up and turns towards the kitchenette, then stops and looks over her shoulder at him. "And, well... good luck, sir. I mean that."

As Dutch is leaving the apartment, he sees that the door to Apartment 5 is open, and the corridor now smells faintly of ammonia.

Then he hears a voice coming from Apartment 5--so quiet he shouldn't be able to hear it from here, but somehow it reaches his ears:

"I think it's time you run along, little scholar boy." It's dismissive. Mocking. Threatening? It's hard to tell, but Dutch shivers involuntarily nonetheless.

Hearing the words, Dutch instinctively unholsters his pistol. It seems silly. Even if the man behind the voice is threatening, most people would have to be crazy to try something against a police detective, particularly one of his size. Still, something unknown but familiar sends a chill down the detective's spine. Dutch slowly peers around the corner, trying to get an idea of what's occurring in the apartment.

OOC:   Roll Listen/Spot Hidden.

As Dutch approaches, he sees Peter Walton--one of the witnesses--quickly back out of the apartment and then rush down the stairs. Terror and nausea are both plain on his face.

From his point around the corner, there's not a whole lot to see. Michael Farr's apartment is a shabby little studio, sparsely furnished and devoid of personality. That said, maybe most of that is due to the earlier search by the authorities, and the two men working on cleaning up the mess. They wear white overalls and have handkerchiefs tied around their faces. One, a blond man, is scrubbing the wide, blood-splattered window. The other is brown-haired and is removing the ruined wallpaper. The only thing of any real note is a telescope, pointing up at the window.

It's much easier to hear the remark made by the blond man. "Think you scared him, Rich," he chuckles.

Rich shrugs and scoffs. "Damn passersby. If they want to poke around a scene like this, they better be willing to hear the juicy details."

Neither of them sound at all like the voice Dutch heard making threats. And he can't hear anyone else who might be lurking around.

Dutch walks into the room after reholstering his pistol. Getting awfully jumpy, he thinks to himself. Still, the man from the university seemed like he was in a hurry to leave. The detective considers pursuing him, but decides to take a look at the apartment while there's a chance to find something. Entering the place, he says, "Who's the pencil neck?" to the cleaning men as he makes his way to the telescope to write down the coordinates. Afterwards, Vrees will begin to search the apartment in the hope of finding something that might have been missed.

"No idea," says the blond man, barely turning his head towards Dutch. "Came in and started asking nosy questions, didn't stick around once we gave him answers."

Dutch writes down the telescope coordinates as Rich grunts. "What'd he want with this old tenant anyway? He can't live around here. He was dressed too nice."

"No idea," says the blond man again.

Despite his search of the apartment, Dutch doesn't find the book Judith mentioned. He does find a picture frame in the bottom drawer of Michael's dresser. It holds a photograph of a young couple in wedding attire, smiling blissfully at the camera. A closer look makes it clear that the man in the picture is Michael, but a bit younger and with his eyes intact. The woman is no one he recognizes, and this apartment is obviously unsuitable for a married couple.

Dutch quickly pockets the photo and looks around. Looking at the two men briefly, Dutch decides to head down the stairs to see if he can catch up to the the man who fled the scene.

The two men either don't notice or don't care what Dutch does. Given their attitudes, it might be safe to assume the latter.

Dutch,Please move to the following thread: [url=http://www.callofcthulhu.org.uk/pbp/viewtopic.php?f=224&t=3186&p=156441#p156441]In Crumbling Pages[/url] Do not read any posts above the one you have been linked to.