Play@YSDC

Amy smiles back. "Thank you, Mr. Marko," she says, pausing to take a sip from her steaming mug of coffee, the nectar of students everywhere. "My studies are going well. How has your work been going?"

"Work has been good. It's all cycles. Mid to Late Summer business picked up a bit, but now that Winter is here and in full force I have less cases." James takes out a cigarette, lights up and continues, "Which you know, that never really made sense to me. I understand in the Summer the heat gets people going and gets them more exasperated and they come to me or do something worse, but I never got why the cases slow to a crawl in the Winter. Do people think cheating doesn't happen then? That folks and things don't get lost, or that spouses don't lay a hand on their partners? Or does everyone just calm down cause they're stuck inside with each other?"

"I never really gave it much thought," says Amy, considering it now. "Maybe people just don't go out as much if they don't have to. Oh! And people have less money to spend in the winter, after all the Christmas shopping."

He had greeted Amy warmly, he liked the young student, although he sure as hell couldn't stomach her being more taken with Jackson than with him.
He had greeted her warmly and ordered a cream coffee.


Jordan cringed at hearing his first name, he'd never gotten to like it and seldom used it.

"Marko, you old lout!You won't find anything in this place to warm your bones other than coffee, unless you brought something yourself."

Jordan enthusiastically returns the handshake and sits back down.

"I'm not surprised that you're low on work, people are like the seasons, in Spring our blood starts flowing again and in Summer even the most morose man is aflame with burning desire. Autumn is still sweet, as it savours the last memories of Summer, like a good wine, or making love to mature woman. Winter is cold and men's blood turns cold as well. Everything sleeps and waits for the first light of Spring to inspire them again."

He sips his coffee and grins.

"It is in the darkness of Winter that an artist gets most work done, though, he has to work to keep warm and in the other seasons he is too distracted by other things."

The coffee pot's door rings as Clark enters the place, he brush his coat and nods the waiter. It's been a nice walk in the chill outside and the warm place is more than welcome. Looking around he spots the others. "Miss, Gentlemen, it is pleasure to see you all again."
Clark place his hand suitcase behind one of the chairs and takes a seat without saying another word but smiles now and than.

Anderson finally arrives. He smiles when he see Amy.
"You look beautiful as usual. So, our friend hasn't arrive yet? He is probably waiting to be sure we are all here to make us a big surprise" -he says with malice.

The Coffee Pot - Corner of 8th Avenue and West 23rd Street, New York City
7:15pm - Thursday 15th January, 1925

Tremayne is the last of Jackson's friends to arrive at the Coffee Pot; held up by the wintery conditions, it is already five past seven by the time he steps through the door of the café.

Ten minutes later it is starting to become obvious that Jackson Elias is not going to appear. While he often disappears for months at a time to investigate the death-cults that he writes about, Jackson is normally a most punctual man. When he says seven o'clock, he means seven o'clock; and assuming that he has taken his normal room - 410 - at the Hotel Chelsea, then he literally has less than five minutes' walk to get from his room to the Coffee Pot.

"This isn't like Jackson," says Amy, clearly worried. "Maybe we should go over to his room and check on him. It's just across the street."

Archie Tremayne had been enjoying the wintry day. A few hours at the typewriter. In the afternoon, he'd spent an hour at Stillman's famous gym near Madison Square Garden, working on the pugilistic arts. Famous and famously unhygienic, he thought. Tremayne relied on the boxing, together with long walks exploring the city, to keep him up to snuff for future explorations.

After the training, Tremayne had returned home to his garret, cleaned up and changed into his second suit, dark navy Indian cotton with matching fedora. Grabbing a camel coloured duffle coat his mate in the Royal Navy had supplied and an old uni scarf, Tremayne dashed out.

Running slightly late, Tremayne was quite surprised to find Jackson not at the cafe already but it did give him a chance to greet the others. When Amy suggested walking to the Chelsea, Tremayne had not even taken his duffle coat off.

Grabbing his fedora, Tremayne grinned at her. "Absolutely, Miss Amy, ready when you are. Perhaps the old lad has fallen asleep?" He offers Amy his arm.

James checks the clock as the time passes by, when it becomes clear that Jackson isn't coming he gets up and readies to go to Jackson's hotel room. "This may not be like him, but I had a bad feeling something like this was going to happen." James straightens his coat and puts some money on the table before heading outside. He stands outside of the cafe in the coat with a cigarette, hoping the cold might sharpen his mind a little bit and help brace him for what he may have to do. "You know, you don't all have to come, I can probably just grab him and drag him down here if he's sleeping."

Jordan gets up with the others and makes to go out with the others.

"Yeah, sure, you could go alone and enjoy the surprise on his face, but I that surprise will be even greater when he finds his room invaded by a true horde!"

He laughs and breathes deeply in the cold winter air.

"Let's give the old bastard the fright of a lifetime."

"Thank you, Mr. Tremayne," says Amy, buttoning up her coat and smiling back. Then she takes his arm. "I'm ready."

Clark nods and gets up. He joins the others outside.
"To the hotel than"

Arm in arm with Amy in gentlemanly fashion, Tremayne stepped off.

Tremayne addressed the group as he walked. "Right, lady and gentlemen, let's go and see what Jackson's about. I stayed in his room at the Chelsea for the last few days it was paid up, after he headed off last June. With any luck the staff will still remember me. Anyway, I'm pretty certain he'll have booked the same room again, I think it's his favourite."

The Hotel Chelsea, 222 West 23rd Street - New York City
7:20pm - Thursday 15th January, 1925



Until twenty years ago the twelve story Hotel Chelsea was the tallest building in New York. Ever since it's construction it has been home to many artists and authors, the most famous being Mark Twain who lived there in 1898. Some stay there for just a day or a week, others live in the famous Hotel's bohemian community for years or decades. Jackson just rents a room whenever he's in the city, although he normally takes room 410 if it's available. That room is one of those with the distinctive decorative iron balconies that face onto West 23rd Street, so the investigators can clearly see that the room is lit as they cross the street and enter the hotel.

The receptionist looks bored in the Hotel lobby, but he smiles as he recognises Archie immediately and he readily confirms that Jackson has his normal room on the fourth floor. A walk up the hotel's beautiful open iron staircase is always a pleasure though, as it's outer wall is adorned with the artwork of past and current residents. It's good though that Jackson doesn't have a room on the twelfth floor!

Amy admires the artwork as she strolls up the stairs. Being young and healthy, she has no problem with them. Her excitement is almost palpable. I'm finally going to see Jackson again after all this time! she thinks, smiling broadly.

Clark admired the main lobby and stared in awe, but when the white folk began whispering he hurried and followed the others up the stairs.

James trudged heavily up the steps towards Jackson's room, paying little mind to the artwork on the wall - it was all pretty much the same to him anyway. By the time they reached the room he was a bit out a breath and wordlessly cursing his lack of exercise.

On the fourth floor landing the winding central staircase opens onto two well lit corridors, one of which includes the door to apartment number 410.

Jackson's door is closed, as are all of the other doors leading from the deserted corridor.