IC - Day 3 - Monday Morning Blues

[Mephistophilis]

'Comme c'est terrible' gasps Henninger. 'Oui, please put the doctor on.'

Laurent hands the receiver to Dr Clermont who looks initially confused until Henninger obviously asks him something, 'Ah, Monsieur Henninger, that is difficult to say. I must give my report to Lieutenant Etienne of the Armée de St Joseph, but between you and me I think he either fell in the sea and was attacked by some kind of animal or he was attacked on the land and then thrown into the water. Either way, it is most concerning...Did Monsieur Lindo have any family? Oh, I see, I'm sorry to hear that...Back to Monsieur Toussaint? Of course, of course.'

Clermont hands Laurent back the phone, 'We are of course happy to bring Mr Lindo's body back to the Azagon, are you able to take it or should I send a car?'

[Mr. Handy]

"You should send a car, please," says Laurent.

[Mephistophilis]

'Of course, of course, I will send one right away.'

After exchanging further pleasantries and expressing his shock at Mr Lindo's death, Henninger goes to organise a car. About forty minutes later and after sharing a simple breakfast with Dr Clermont, Laurent hears a vehicle pulling up outside the doctor's surgery.

Walking out the front he sees one of the jeeps used by the Azagon. Out of the driver's side climbs the larger-than-life figure of Juan Mendoza.



'Ah, mes amis, we meet again in grim times,' he says. His sombre tone more than counteracted by his booming voice and avuncular handshakes.

[Mr. Handy]

"It is good to see you again," says Laurent, "but I wish it were under better circumstances. I can help you carry him to the car. Do you have any idea what he might have been doing out at sea? When was the last time anyone saw him?"

[Mephistophilis]

'Si, sad times.'

Laurent helps Dr Mendoza to carry Lindo's body to the jeep, although, to be honest, Mendoza seems to practically carry the man by himself, Laurent merely guiding his feet and dropping the hatch to the rear so that Mendoza can load him onto the vehicle.

As they shift the body, Mendoza talks, 'I have no idea what Lindo would have been doing out at sea. I don't think he was much of a sailor or a fisherman. I don't think he even swam. When he came to the Azagon from Baltimore he brought all these dark clothes, he said the hot sun would play havoc with his extra fair skin. Even in Baltimore the sun was a problem for him. As for the last anyone saw him...'

He thinks for a while, remaining uncharacteristically quiet for a minute or so, 'Well, I can't say for certain, but the last people I heard saying they definitely saw Lawton were you and that beguiling lady friend of yours.'

[Mr. Handy]

"When we saw him on the beach the other night?" asks Laurent. "You mean he never returned to the Azagon?"

[Mephistophilis]

'I can't say for certain he didn't return to the Azagon. Just that no one seems to have seen him. I don't know if he slept in his bed, maybe you could ask Ti-Jean if we see him.'

[Mr. Handy]

"Bon," says Laurent. "I can accompany you and ask him if he's there."

[Mephistophilis]

Mendoza invites Laurent to join him and they spend a surprisingly pleasant journey to the Azagon chatting. Mendoza is an engaging and larger-than-life personality. It's just a pity that they are hauling a corpse in the back.

At the Azagon Laurent helps Mendoza to carry Lindo's body to a more discreet clinical area. 'We don't have a mortuary as such. There hasn't ever been the need.'

-----

After they've deposited the corpse Mendoza insist on introducing Laurent to Dr Tom Driscoll, director of the Azagon. His office is at the far end of a downstairs corridor, 'Since his illness he's wanted a degree of seclusion...some time for quiet contemplation.'



Mendoza knocks on an imposing pine door with a nameplate reading Dr Tom Driscoll, Director. There's a faint sound from inside the room and Menoza pushes open the door. Inside, behind a rather grand mahogany desk sits a man who seems to be in his seventies, slicing open a white envelope with an ornate letter opener, like a small jewel-encrusted dagger. He waves a hand and then rather painfully attempts to get up from his seat. Stiffly and with some evident discomfort he round the desk and holds his hand out to grope for Laurent's to shake it weakly. His hair is completely white and there is an odd drooping to one side of his face. In a quiet and weary voice he says, 'Ah, Mr Toussaint, I have seen you around the grounds with your father. I understand you are a fine mechanic.

[Mr. Handy]

"Oui, Dr. Driscoll," says Laurent, shaking his hand. "I sometimes service the vehicles here. Is there anything I can do to help?"

[Mephistophilis]

Driscoll turns over the ornate knife in his hands, absentmindedly. 'Oh no Mr Toussaint, I do not think you can help me...I mean, Je ne pense pas que tu puisses nous aider, excusez mon français.' He looks past Laurent into the middle distance, then his expression sharpens.

He drives the point of the dagger into the surface of the fine wooden desk in a sharp movement. 'There are things going on here that cannot be fixed like broken machinery.' He thumps his other hand down onto the desk and Mendoza jumps, 'Damn St Joe, why did I ever come here?'

[Mr. Handy]

"Maybe I can still help," says Laurent. "I know all sorts of people with a variety of talents."

[Mephistophilis]

Laurent feels hot and sweaty in the beating St Joe sun but Driscoll shudders and says 'It's cold today isn't it.' He's breathing wheezily.

'Something very strange is happening here my young friend. People change when they come here. They undergo - some sort of metamorphosis.' He nods to a pile of files on the desk, the top one reads Lindo, Lawton. 'Lawton Lindo, Paul Henninger, Robert Morrison, Phillip Wynn, all changed. And now Lawton is dead. I think...I think this place may be ill-fated. Touched by evil.'

Although he doesn't say anything, Mendoza is clearly uncomfortable with this talk, shifting from one foot to the other.

[Mr. Handy]

"How do they change?" asks Laurent.

[Mephistophilis]

'How do they change, how do they change?' He's interrupted by a bout of coughing. 'These men, they come here with commonplace maladies. Anxiety, alcoholism,' he glances at Mendoza. 'But now look at them, Morrison, the stockbroker, he's developed headaches, headaches so fierce he says they're driving him crazy. Wynn, the department store man, dreadful headaches too. And nightmares, hideous dreams from which he wakes up soaking wet, shaking all over he says.'

He shakes his head and reaches back to his desk to take a sip of water. 'And Lindo, the attorney, nightmares as well, walking in his sleep, and now...' Driscoll shakes his head again and lets out a noisy sigh. 'Well he's no longer with us, dead in bizarre and suspicious circumstances. I've spent hours with these men, I've examined them, discussed their attitudes with them, their goals, their states of mind, prescribed medication, diet. Lord, I've even taken them to the library and encouraged them to read books that might help them!'

He grabs the files and throws them onto the floor, 'We've examined them,' he waves towards Mendoza, who nods. 'Over and over again we've checked them out. And there is nothing wrong with them except, of course, the common illness that brought them here in the first place.

'Perhaps the Azagon itself is the answer. Evil does exist in the world, you know. You will know all about voodoo Monsieur Laurent, the bocors. I've heard they resent us, the houngans, the bocors, more than once I've heard it.

'And now my manager is slinking out at night. Last night I couldn't sleep, this damned arthritis of mine was giving me the fits. I was sitting by the window in the dark, looking out at the night. And there he was, Henninger, suddenly, in the yard. After midnight. The way he moved, he wasn't asleep. I can't prove it of course. Then he disappeared into the night and another man came out following him. I didn't get a good look at that one.'

Mendoza lets out an involuntary gasp at this.

'Something is really happening here, you know. It's been happening for weeks. And the only explanation I can come up with is that we are the target of some evil force.'

[Mr. Handy]

"I think you're right," says Laurent. "I've also been noticing strange happenings, and now it seems that the evil is centered around the Azagon. I know a houngan, and I will be meeting him this evening. If anyone can help, he can. Would you like to come with me?"

[Mephistophilis]

Driscoll thumps his arm and leg and says, 'I'm afraid I don't think I'm up to it. Maybe...' he looks at Mendoza, who winces. 'Well, I suppose...'

[Mr. Handy]

"Bon," says Laurent. He gives Driscoll a meeting place near the houngan, and a time shortly before his appointment. "I think he'll be able to help."

[Mephistophilis]

Dr Mendoza reluctantly takes down the address and time. 'Dr Driscoll will not be able to attend but I will come in his place. For what it is worth,' he says sceptically.

OOC:   What would you like to do now?

[Mr. Handy]

"Thank you, Dr. Mendoza," says Laurent. "Is Ti-Jean Lazaire here? How is he doing?"