The voice on the phone said, "I understand that you are a friend of my son, James. He has gone missing. I require your assistance in bringing him home again...”
A university student has gone missing. Can his friends find out what has happened to James Frazer in 1920s Massachusetts?
“Let us leave the good Reverend to go about his business,” interjects Ivy, somewhat tartly.
“Clearly he has nothing to do with the church’s previous occupants, so waving guns under his nose and telling him alarming stories will do little to further our investigation.”
Something doesn't sit right with Alex. Haynes reaction to learning the past owner of this property had been a kidnapper and attempted murderer seemed rather underwhelming. He may have just wanted to get the group with guns away from his flock, but the detective thought he'd be a bit more alarmed.
OOC: did my psychology roll get anything off about the reverend?
The Reverend is trying his best to remain calm and collected so that no harm befalls his flock. Alex gets nothing from him that suggests any duplicitous intent.
Sheriff DuPont shouldered his rifle and indicated that the others should do the same. ”Perhaps if you might show us the basement, Reverend? Then we can put everyone’s mind at rest,” he asked.
Reverend Haynes thought for a moment and nodded. ”Follow me,” he said and turned and led the way through the church. Descending the steps into the cooler air of the underground room, Haynes said, ”As you can see, it is merely a basement we use for storage there is nothing untoward here.”
Looking around, it was indeed the same basement where William, Lawrence, James and Brophy has been held, but of their stay, no sign remained. Now it was just full of storage boxes, old paint cans and tools.
Unfamiliar with the basement layout (mercifully), Ivy casts her eye across the room. If there used to be cells, surely there must be brackets, screw holes, marks on the floor and wotnot - signs of the basement's previous use?
Reverend Haynes frowned. ”Some of the areas here had iron bars but we removed them when we took over. They were just in the way and besides, this is a religous community so we have no need to fear theft here.”
He pointed to the floor where the remnants of the removed ironmongery could be seen.
Alex softens, convinced of the reverend's innocence in the matter.
"Thank you for your time, Reverend. We can confirm that Mr. Nyatanga is an exceptionally dangerous man who was running some sort of heathen cult here involving snakes. But with my friend's escape I believe he feared we've gotten wind of him and took off. I don't believe he will trouble you or your flock, but please remain vigilant."
"Yes, that's a good idea," says William. "I am an attorney, and while I'm not licensed to practice law in Louisiana, I can still help with researching the records."
"Real diligent, for a damn lunatic, but I guess that's what makes men like Nyatanga so dangerous: acting like sane men so they can do insane things."Lawrence contemplates, looking around the basement where he was once certain he would spend his last hours. It was strange to see the room stripped of all of its makeshift prison cells, but refreshing. If he could just tie off this last loose end, maybe everything really could turn out alright after all. "Did you ever talk to him much yourself, Reverend? What did he seem like to you?"
”We dealt with the realtor and his attorney, mainly,” replied Reverend Haynes.
”I only met Mr Nyatanga once, on the day we moved here. He and a few others were moving the last of their goods from the church. He had this big car, overloaded with boxes and crates and some of his men hanging off the sides! He was courteous, but they didn’t seem quite right to me, if I am honest with you my wife was quite disturbed by them, but they caused us no harm. Just bid us farewell and set off on their way.”
"And who was the realtor?" asks William. "That's someone we'll want to ask some things. The realtor who sold this place may have also bought the one where they were moving."
”His Realtor was a Mr Joseph Gotlieb. He has offices on Lafayette Street in town. We had regular correspondence so I remember it well,” replied the Reverend.
”The only thing I recall Mr Nyatanga saying was that he had a new business venture to the west and he hoped to strike it lucky. I don’t remember him saying anything else that would be pertinent,” he continued.
"Thank you, this has been very useful," Alex says. They had two new persons of interest now to look into.With luck, one of them could point them to where Nyatanga had gone, or at least give a rough location.Of course, they couldn't discount the possibility one of the men were involved in the cult, but Alex personally doubts that. They'd likely have left with Nyatanga in that case.
"Lawyers will work any hours for which they are able to bill," says William, "but I don't want to alert this one to our presence. If he gets wind that we're on Nyatanga's trail, he could tip him off to our interest. There's always the danger that the realtor will too, but it's less likely. He may not even know anything of Nyatanga's crooked ways, but the lawyer will have to at least suspect, being privy to his secrets and having to defend him against any accusations. When we do approach the realtor, we should come armed with a warrant for the records of Nyatanga's real estate transactions, though we may not need it. No such warrant would help us with the lawyer. He'd just cite attorney-client privilege, and that would be the end of it."
