Play@YSDC

Boston, January 30th 1921, 10am
It is a cold and grey winter morning in the affluent Boston suburb of Brookline, where Isadora lives with her husband George Auden and their household staff. It is a large house, paid for by the Auden family fortune, but it is comfortable and avoids the stuffiness that we might expect of many moneyed properties. Auden believes in living well, but also in being able to relax in his surroundings.

Isadora has been rather subdued since the events of November, and Auden has been trying not to make too much fuss over her. He knows that it is best if she is left alone to come to terms with whatever happened while she was assisting Harry Jordan. Privately though, Auden regrets having allowed her to go off on “that damn fool jaunt”, as he refers to it (to himself of course).

The pair are enjoying a relaxed Sunday morning breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast (cereal for Isadora) when they hear the doorbell chime in the distance.

“I wonder who that can be?” mutters Auden, laying aside his copy of the Globe.

Shortly after, a worried-looking young woman wearing a maid’s outfit enters the breakfast room.

“Mr. Auden, there are two police detectives here!” she stammers.

“Police?” says Auden, his brow furrowed. “Whatever do they want?”

“They said they have questions for Ms. Carmichael”!

Auden turns to stare at Isadora. “Isadora! Whatever could this be about?”

"I haven't the slightest idea, George!" says Isadora, although she has an idea all right! This is a moment she has been anticipating... She visited Norman in the hospital a few times, then they decided to severe ties. Isadora hasn't seen him for months. Looks like the explorer recovered from his wounds and did what had to be done.

She stands up and heads over to the entrance.

"Good morning, officers... What can I help you with?"

The two policemen have entered behind the maid. They look much like Isadora might expect a city detective to look – hats, suits and trench coats. One stands slightly in front of the other, and Isadora guesses that he must be the senior of the two.

Both are grim and unsmiling – this is not a social call.

“Ms. Carmichael?” asks the senior in his Boston twang. “I’m Detective Clancy, and this is Detective Atkinson.” They display their gold shields. “We’re with the BPD. We’re sorry to burst in on you like this, but we’d like to ask you some questions regarding a crime that took place last week.” His face is hard and cold, and his blue eyes look directly at Isadora as he sizes her up. He obviously doesn’t feel sorry.

Before Isadora can answer, Auden pipes up, his hand raised in caution. “What is this about Detective?”

Clancy’s eyes swivel over to regard Auden. “A case of arson Mr. Auden.” He turns to Isadora. “Ms. Carmichael, where were you on the night of the 27th of this month?”

OOC:   Roll for Luck!

"Arson?" Isadora gasps. "On the 27th... I think was asleep in my room. I undergo deep sleep treatments."

"But can you elaborate a bit more? How am I connected with this? I don't have any property other than a share in this house here."

Luck 65%
[dice]0[/dice]

OOC:   Oh no! Looks like you don’t have much of an alibi for that evening. George was at his club and your maid had the night off. You could have sneaked out…

Clancy ignores Isadora’s questions. “Can anyone corroborate your whereabouts?”

"George was here to administer the tranquilizer before he left for his club," Isadora says, pointing to her husband, hoping that this might reinforce her alibi at least slightly. "And we keep a diary of my sleep therapy cycles, this is a controlled medical process..." she adds, but knows, that the detectives probably couldn't care less about novelty psychiatric treatments.

"I would still like to know why am I being questioned?"

Auden’s face has been slowly getting redder and redder as this exchange has continued. “Damn cheek!” he thinks. “Questioning my wife like this in my house!”

“Wait just a minute Detective! I can confirm that while my wife went to bed alone, I did administer a sleeping drug for her. There’s no way she could have woken before the morning. And if you want to ask any more questions, you can do so in the company of my lawyer!”

At the mentions of lawyers, Clancy backs off a bit. “The property in question is 20 Copp’s Hill Terrace. It was burned down on the night of the 27th. Traces of gasoline were found, and there appears to have been no electricity connected, so it is clearly a case of arson. Harry Jordan, the landlord, stated that you and a Mr. Norman Owens had been conducting an… investigation of that property for him, and that some kind of incident had occurred.” He stops and waits for a comment.

Isadora is happy to have George by her side, he knows much better how to deal with officials.

The detective finally breaks the "news" to them. Isadora knew that this would happen, but the realization only now dawns on her. She is shocked (hopefully the detectives will see this as well!), but also, deep down, she is relieved.

"Y--yes, I did work for Mr. Jordan," she confirms. "And Mr. Owens fell out of a window, had to spend several weeks in the hospital," she adds, trying to appear co-operative -- although all this information is something surely known by the investigators.

The detectives glance at each other. Atkinson speaks up for the first time. Surprisingly, his voice is soft and cultured, and sounds very reassuring.

“Ms. Carmichael, we called in at Owen’s rooms, but his landlady says that he left on business and won’t be back. Strangely, he left on the 27th. We checked with the university and they told us he’s on his way to Canada on an expedition. That’s quite a coincidence, don’t you think?”

The detectives exchange a glance. Clancy turns back to Isadora.

“I’m afraid that’s not a satisfactory answer Ms. Carmichael. Owens is the prime suspect in this case, and we believe that you might be his accomplice. We’re arresting you on suspicion of arson”. He begins to read Isadora her rights.

Atkinson says to Auden. “We’ll be taking her to the station house in North End. I suggest you ask your lawyer to come there.” They take Isadora’s arms and lead her to the door.

“This is outrageous!” shouts Auden. “How dare you!” He moves towards Isadora, but is stopped by a hand placed firmly on his chest.

“Please don’t make this worse Mr. Auden. Like we said, get your lawyer”. They take Isadora to their car.

Isadora is almost ready to go, but her inherent pride kicks in. She straightens out and pulls the belt of her robe tighter.

"I am ready to go with you, but only if I can dress properly first. In the meantime, my husband shall contact our lawyer."

Isadora herself is somewhat surprised just how calm her voice sounds. She turns around, and if nobody stops her, ascends to her room to put on something solid - a simple black dress with her usual Theosophist patterns embroidered in silver. Afterwards she returns to the entrance and follows the detectives.

While George is frantically phoning his lawyer, Isadora is put in the back seat of the car and they set off for the North End precinct. They ride in silence, which is broken only by a question from Atkinson.

“What do the symbols on your dress mean?”

Atkinson is clearly the more intelligent of the two detectives.

"These are patterns designed by the architect and artist, Claude Bragdon, a good friend," Isadora explains, pointing to the web-like ornaments on her shoulder.



She suspects that giving away her interest in the supernatural is not the best idea, so she just adds as an explanation: "They resonate with me, so I put them on most of my dresses. I feel more comfortable this way."

Clancy chokes back a laugh. “I hope they make you feel comfortable in the cells!”

Atkinson doesn’t say anything. He merely turns round and gives Isadora a long look, which she can’t read anything into.

When they arrive at the precinct Isadora’s mugshot and fingerprints are taken. Her appearance raises a few eyebrows, but these city cops have seen a lot before.

“Are you willing to talk to us without a lawyer present?” asks Clancy.

Isadora lets Detective Clancy's comment slide. She knows that if George was around, he'd be raging by now.

"I would like to wait for my lawyer," she says. "Your accusations are very serious. I want to have legal support."

She sits down where she is instructed to sit, takes a small book out of her purse and starts reading. It's a popular recent title, "This Side of Paradise" by F. Scott Fitzgerald, an upcoming young author, with - surprisingly! - no evident connection to Theosophy or the spiritual.

“Oh no” says Clancy, clucking his tongue at the desk sergeant. “This young lady has been arrested on a serious charge. She waits in the cells. And no fancy books to pass the time! After all, they’re flammable”.

He leers at Isadora, and she is led to a holding cell for women.

Luckily it holds only one other prisoner, who is asleep in a stench of booze and urine.

Isadora almost snaps, but regains composure and sits down in the cell, as far from the other occupant as possible. Luckily, they can't take away her mind... so to pass time, she starts meditating. She sits still, with eyes closed, not sleeping, but rather contemplating the various colorful concentric circles and geometric shapes that appear flashing in her field of "vision".

“Ms. Carmichael! Ms. Carmichael!” The words seem to come from a long way away. How long has she been here? Isadora opens her eyes and sees a familiar figure – it is Bernard Petersen, George’s lawyer. She almost swoons with relief.

Petersen’s nose crinkles with distaste. He’s not used to criminal cases and visiting police cells, but Isadora knows him to be a very effective lawyer.

“What an awful place! Let’s get you out of here immediately!” He motions to the policeman behind him. “Open it please!” He turns back to Isadora. “Don’t worry! I got the charges dropped. Your doctor confirmed that the sleeping draught you took would have made it impossible for you to be awake that night.”

He leads her out of the cell. “They don’t have anything else on you, apart from your association with this Owens. They would still like to talk to you about him though. You can if you like, but you’re under no obligation.”

OOC:   That was a good line about the sleeping drug - came in very handy!

OOC:   All those little details about her therapy I set up in the beginning payed off

"Oh, Mr. Petersen! Thank you for helping me! There has been a terrible misunderstanding."

She stands up, still a bit dizzy from the meditation and the stench of the cell.

"I think I would like to talk to them... In your presence, obviously. I'm ready to give them the little information I have, especially if it helps to clear my name. Just tell them straight away that I'm in no condition to sit through lengthy interrogations."

“Very well, if you’re sure. We’ll make it quick, George is waiting for you”.

The guard leads them to an interview room where Clancy and Atkinson sit waiting. The air is thick with cigarette smoke. Clancy indicates the chairs opposite with a wave of the hand.

“We’re satisfied that you had nothing to do with the crime Ms. Carmichael. That’s been demonstrated now. But you may have known about it.”

“You’re accusing my client of conspiracy Detective” states Petersen forcefully. “You’d better have evidence to back that up, or we walk out right now”.

Clancy raises his hands in a conciliatory motion. “Well, our chief suspect is still Norman Owens. How well do you know him, Ms. Carmichael?”

The thick smoke scratches Isadora's throat and makes her eyes water.

"Not too well. We were brought in by a common acquaintance from the University to work for Mr. Jordan."

Clancy continues. “And what was the nature of this work? We know you were looking at the history of the property in Copps Hill Terrace. What were you trying to find out?”

"Yes, we were researching the history of the house. I think it's safe to say that we had to look into certain rumors?"

She looks at Petersen, hoping that the lawyer will support her angle.

"But I'm afraid I can't give you more information, as sensitive business matters of Mr. Jordan are concerned, so you have to ask it from him. I'm sure he would be happy to clear up the matter."

“Well, as the owner of the property, Jordan stands to benefit from the insurance. Naturally we spoke to him. But he had an alibi, and he told us about you two, and of the err… ideas you have about the house.”

Clancy stubs out his cigarette. “He seems pretty sincere though. He didn’t appear to be dismayed that the house had gone. As no-one was hurt, and luckily no other properties were damaged, there wouldn’t be too much of a problem. But then your friend goes and disappears.”

“Why would he burn the house? Come on Ms. Carmichael, we all know he must have done it.”

Clancy looks up from where he is smushing his butt into nothingness in the ashtray. He suddenly looks, well, almost cheerful.

“Yes, several of us are familiar with the reputation of that house”. He shrugs his shoulders. “And now it’s gone”.

He stands up. “I think we’ve finished here, Ms. Carmichael. There is a warrant out for Mr. Owens though, and we will be requesting the help of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police to locate him. Please let us know if you hear from him.”

He walks to the door. “Do us all a favour though – stay out of the North End.”

Atkinson also rises. He however, does not look cheerful. He says nothing, but again gives Isadora that long, measured look.

Isadora says goodbye and, supported by Mr. Petersen, leaves the stench of the station. On the ride home she thinks about Norman Owens: she believes that the explorer will find a way to avoid the police, Royal Mounted and North End Afoot. Besides, he clearly prefers the wilderness to the city. He did what had to be done, with the minimal possible threat to the lives of everybody.

As she reaches into her purse to find a handkerchief, Isadora is surprised to feel a folded slip of paper. She draws it out, and opens it.

Evil Scientist,I think we can end there....for now?

Isadora stares at the sinister symbol for a second, then puts it back into her purse.

Their car slowly disappears into the thick Boston fog.