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?
Her visitor stepped back into the shadows. ”Sleep now,” he said, and despite herself, Ivy felt her eyes close and her head slumped against the pillow, the light susurration of her breathing the only sound to be heard... ...
- - - - -
Tuesday March 18th, 1930 7.00am.
The home of Ivy Ripley, Arkham, Mass.
Ivy awoke to the sound of her neighbour’s door slamming. No matter how many times she mentioned it, he was yet to sort the problem out.
Looking down the bed, there was no sign of her nocturnal visitor, she was relieved to see.
Ivy couldn’t speak to the Professor but her secretary told that she was expecting her call and there was a parcel waiting for her in the office.
When Ivy called by to collect it, she found a parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. Inside, she found the journal and a note with a neat handwritten transcript of the Latin text that she had found earlier.
I stand here, there and ever was standing between now and the future. And open the gate, step by step, and I accept that I will pass through the gate and be transformed.
The ships of fate will merge in transience. I have spoken and the fates will help me find my destination.
Open the gate! That is so I can continue without place and without slowing. Open the gate! I flower by the notion that everything in the world is my domain. Open the gate! I will travel there and I can not be gainsaid.
Heed the winds of time and seek their counsel. I offer a gift to breathe life into these words. I cannot see the door to the gate, nor place to place. Talk to me, winds, tell me what lies on the other side.
I stand in this place with the gate beyond the world. The magic links the here, the now, the there and the then! Open the gate!
An underlined note in the margin - Better in Latin! - was the only other thing written on the paper.
Ivy frowns, baffled by the nonsensical passage. Is this something she’ll need to read aloud in Latin? She wonders.
In search of further clues, she decides to check in on the Livingstone girl in case she has remembered anything else, before contacting the police photographer to examine the photos that have been taken over the last few days.
(OOC I can’t remember if she’s got copies or not)
That leaves the strange paintings; clearly part of whatever ritual Brophy/Dufresne used to open this ‘gate’. No doubt the police will have taken them as evidence; perhaps she can get hold of them?
Ivy had photos from Emily’s room but not from the sanitarium.
Tuesday March 18th, 1930 9.35am.
Arkham PD, 302 E Armitage Street, Arkham, Mass.
Ivy had called ahead and an envelope with photographs was waiting for her, as was Captain Keats. ”Miss Ripley,” he greeted her. “How goes your investigation?”
“Frustratingly,” huffs Ivy. “There are certain factors that, frankly, defy explanation. It appears that the Brophys are at the heart of the matter, but the more I learn the stranger things become.”
Deciding against mentioning her nocturnal visitor, she continues.
“Tell me, what do you know about Squatter’s Lake and the disappearances linked to the place?”
Keats studied Ivy for a moment, then nodded his head in the direction of his office.
Once seated, he said, ”Prior to events last year, we didn’t have any reason to think there was an issue. It was only when those boys went up there looking for James Fraser that it became apparent that something had been going on for a while. I mean, there’s always people going missing but it’s a big country. Nothing stopping anyone upping sticks and moving to the coast, giving themselves a new name and starting afresh. You’d never find them lessen they wanted to be found.”
“I’m Arkham born and bred but God knows I’d be the first to admit there’s nicer places to live where the sun shines and you can walk on the beach...” He gave a sour grin. ”But this is home, so it is what it is.”
“Getting back to Squatter’s Lake, it seems those Brophy brothers bought it a few years ago to run it as a hotel and fishing lake. All his paperwork checked out and we never had no complaints so there was no reason to think there was ever any problems up there.”
"So what happened when our mutual acquaintances investigated the hotel?" asks Ivy. "I know poor James is no longer with us, but did the Brophys kill him, like I assume they killed others?"
”As far as I understand it, Brophy escaped and fled to the south, taking James with him. He re-surfaced a few months later and the boys went off down to Louisiana to try to bring James back but that didn’t work out. He died in the attempt, but as far as I knew, Brophy got his comeuppance too.”
Keats glanced out the window for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. ”It cost them, though. I don’t know all the details but something in them changed, like some of the boys who came back from France who just can’t begin to tell you what they saw out there.”
He shook his head. “Four of them went down but only three came back. There was a student friend of James - Howard - he got hit by a train. His poor parents losing their boy like that! And one of my officers, Thomas Riddell; well, he came back but he won’t be right for a while, I reckon. Memories are keeping him awake at night - he’s got black rings under his eyes like he’s gone a round with Jack Dempsey!”
“Brophy’s influence still lingers, even if he is dead. The disturbance at the hospital that led to our colleagues’ disappearance was instigated by Miss Dufresne; she in turn seemed to be in Brophy’s thrall. I take it she too has yet to be found?”
She pauses for a moment to consider her options.
“I have a favour to ask: assuming you have collected the paintings from the hospital; May I have them? Or failing that, full photographs of each one. I wish to recreate the circumstances of the disturbance.”
“Also, if you can spare the resources, I would appreciate a thorough investigation into the Brophy brother’s background.”
”We’ve seen neither hide nor hair of her since that night,” replied Captain Keats. “Nor Detective Reynolds nor the other two gentlemen, neither. The Doc said they vanished into thin air - for all intents and purposes they have - we can’t find a trace of any of them anywhere!”
“Obviously, the papers themselves are evidence so you can’t have those but I don’t see any harm in you having photographs. We’ve had a photographer at the crime scene so I’ll get some prints run off for you.”
He checked a file on his desk. “Brophys came over here from England and moved around a bit before they bought that hotel. Apart for asking for permits and the like, they never crossed our path. What is it you want to know about them?”
Ivy decides against telling the Captain that she wants to recreate a magic ritual to reopen a portal, so opts to tell a half-truth.
“I’d like to know where they lived, places they visited and if they left anything behind; clues to what they were doing and how they did it. If they are indeed responsible for the disappearance of Dufresne, Reynolds and all, perhaps such breadcrumbs could help us find them.”
Keats reeled off a list of places that his detectives had tracked the Brophys to. It seems that they had moved around frequently, before they had settled for a while in North Windham, before moving again to Squatter’s Lake.
”If you’re thinking of going up there, let me know and I’ll ring ahead. See if I can’t get our country cousins to give you a hand,” said Keats.
Tuesday March 18th, 1930 12.00noon.
Oakwood House, Cushing, Mass.
Ivy had reported her latest findings to Mr Fraser, who, on hearing she planned to both visit Emily and then North Windham, put a car at her disposal.
The day had brightened as it had gone on, but it was still cold and Ivy was hunched and tense from the unexpected driving when she arrived at the sanitarium. Before she was even halfway from the car to the front door, the white-coated figure of Dr Roy was bustling in her direction ”Good afternoon, Miss Ripley,” he greeted her. “Have you any news of Miss Dufresne? We are all terribly worried!”
Dr. Roy lead the way through the sanitarium, talking as they went. ”Some of our guests were badly affected by events of the other evening,” he said. “One or two have had to be sedated for their own safety, and we are all feeling the absence of Maria - Miss Dufresne. As for Emily, she is much improved. She is naturally concerned about Miss Dufresne, but in herself she is much better and may be ready to go home soon.”
He showed Ivy into a room where Emily sat gazing out of the window. She turned and smiled as they entered, although Ivy’s stern countenance soon caused that the falter...
