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?
"I am not one for ostentation Mrs. Peabody. This will suit me admirably, as will a bowl and jug. I would like to know a little more about this town and its environs, perhaps you might like to enlighten me while I unpack?"
Bactracking a little, but can we assmue Ivy has brought a valise with a change of clothes and some modest necessities?
“Humph! Those godless heathens!” snapped Mrs Peabody. “Too busy working their plantation to go to church on Sundays, apparently! Wouldn’t even give those poor folks who worked there the time off, either! No wonder so many of them left. Our town is certainly better since they moved on. Moved off to run a hotel or so I heard. They were never hospitable to me when I went to talk to them of the Lord so goodness only knows how they would have got on!”
She coloured slightly, then composed herself. “I am sorry I spoke to presumptuously. I hope they were not friends of yours?”
“Oh no, they’re no friends of mine. In fact, I’m investigating the disappearance of some colleagues that they might’ve been involved in,” Ivy replies.
“I’ve found evidence that people may have disappeared at their hotel and, based on what you’ve told me, I wonder how many itinerant workers may have been lost in their plantation.”
“I intend to visit there presently. I may be in for an unpleasant experience...”
Mrs Peabody looked shocked. “You think those brothers murdered those poor people? Oh my word!” She pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “Aren’t you going to take this information to Sheriff Kurchak?”
The road up to the plantation was quiet; Ivy passed just one other vehicle on the way up there. Following Mrs Peabody’s directions, she was able to find the turn off from the main road that took her about half a mile down a rutted, gravel track until she came across a pair of rusted gates with the sign “Brichester Plantation” above.
The plantation stretched out before her, silent and still. It wasn’t clear what had been farmed here, neat rows lead her eye to a row of shacks at the end of the field, with a large Manor House in the colonial style behind. It appeared to have been abandoned - the long grass that stirred in the breeze suggested that it had been a while since anyone had been here.
Attempting to be systematic, Ivy begins by carefully investigating the shacks.no doubt built for the workers, do they hold any clues? For example, graffiti, notebooks and such?
The dozen or so shacks are neatly laid out in two rows, but that was where the uniformity ended. They had clearly been neglected, with doors hanging off their hinges, with timber beginning to rot and most of the windows broken. Here and there, Ivy could see initials had been scratched into the timber near the rough bunks where workers had slept, and occasional messages but nothing that gave her a sense of anything other than a fair number of people having passed through in wretched circumstances.
I’ll take a spot hidden roll if you want to look further.
One of the rough planks that formed the inner wall of one of the shacks had caught Ivy’s attention. It had come loose and it looked as if someone had used it as a cache as she could see rolled paper tucked in behind. Carefully extracting the papers, she found some had got damp and were ineligible but there were a few lines that could be read.
It took the form of a diary; one written in pencil on scraps of paper. The dates were intermittent but it seemed to record one of the worker’s time at the plantation.
June, 1st
Bin here a few weeks now. Bin in better places, but some worse uns too. Workin those fields is hard. Cud do wi more breaks but the Brophys works us like dogs. Git paid Friday so hopin to go to town an buy some better food. Fed up wi livin on gruel!
June, 17th
Zeke left last night. No one saw im go. Wanted to win back the money he took off me at cards, but that aint happenin now.
June, 21st
New folks turned up. Escaped from a chain gang by looks of it. Chains leave a mark on a mans arm that takes a long time to fade. Brophys don’t care much, tho. They don’t ask questions.
July, 17th
A better day. Those boys who was agitatin with the Brophys have gone. They wanted more money, less hours an better food. Well, the foods better at least.
August, 3rd
Hammys gone. Another one who just up an left. We had talked about goin to New York together, so kinda strange that he walked out wiout saying goodbye.
September, 17th
Long day in the field today. Brophys worked us hard an we got the same agin tomorrow to git the harvest in. Charlie said he saw Hammy working a few fields over. Talked to im but was like Hammy dint even kno who he were.
I’ll seek Hammy out tomorrow. Be gud to see im agin.Wonder where hes been?
As Ivy got closer, she could see that the Manor House had had better days. Built in the colonial style, its white painted walls had flaked, littering the veranda that encircled the property and overlooked a lake to the rear.
The front door was closed and the windows shuttered, so it appeared secure if not abandoned.
Huffing with annoyance, Ivy tries some of the window shutters. If that fails to provide ingress, she will look for a garage or shed from which she might find some tools.
Ivy had no luck with the window shutters. Looking around, she could see a couple of sheds in amongst the fields and, nearer to the house, a large barn near to the lake.
