Play@YSDC

The train from Portland to Northern Maine, along the railroad to Canada, takes the group up to Machias, which four miles away from Greyton. In Machias, the investigators find a Ford bus, which looks more like an old carriage, taking them to Greyton along a badly paved road.

Greyton lies on the coast of the Atlantic Ocean, near to the border with Canada. The town counts few thousand inhabitants. Nestled in a bowl-shaped depression, the city is surrounded by a steep small hill to the West. The top of the West Hill hosts the church and a few houses. Southwest of Greyton the ground is level, and occasionally dotted by stands of hardwood. Arable farmland around here seems scarce.

The bus leaves the investigators at what appears to be the central area of the city. The buildings are enveloped in a dense and constant gray haze, looking like the city of London at the height of its commercial and industrial development. Most structures are large Georgian houses, with hipped roofs, cupolas, and railed widow's walks. There are also white belfry of fairly well preserved brick structures, one of which, a fishpacking company, stands out as the most modern building.

The investigators are told that the Herder Inn is the only possibility for tourists accomodation. It´s a few blocks from the bus point.

Alighting from the bus, Ivy takes in her dark and dreary surroundings with obvious distain.

"Hmph, I can see why they call it 'Grey'-ton."

She picks up her valise, glad that, considering the walk ahead, she always travels light.

"Let's get to our lodgings and hope they haven't closed for the night."

"Yes, let's go check in," says Kathryn, hoisting her suitcase. "Emma, would you like to share a room with me?"

"Smells like the Fulton Fish Market," Michael remarks. "I hope I can get a decent steak somewhere around here. I only eat fish on Friday." He pauses for a moment, then hits his forehead with his palm. "Oh, hell. 'Scuse my French. Today is Friday. Guess there won't be no steak for Mother O'Shaugnessy's little boy. Let's get goin' before I starve to death."

The Herder Inn is a five-story building, probably dating back to the nineteenth century. The place also works as a pub for the local people. As the group approaches the entrance, they see a person is standing at the doorway. As he see them coming, the man quickly runs inside. He looked somewaht.... concerned.

Ivy nudges Mike as the man disappears inside.

"Did you see that shifty looking fellow? I wonder if prohibition is as well enforced here as it should be. Perhaps they think we're about to raid the - I believe the modern parlance is - 'joint'."

Just in case she ensures that her nightstick (which she 'borrowed' some years ago) is concealed, but accessible, inside her coat.

Emma shrugged. "Sure, I hope they still have any rooms left, though." She was taking in the gloomy appearance of the city, when she saw the man hurrying inside. "Huh, guess they don't have visitors very often. Our mere sight sends them tripping over themselves."

"Then they should have plenty of rooms," says Kathryn. "I doubt they think we're federal agents. While I've heard there are a few T-Women, there probably wouldn't be three all in one place. Well, let's go inside."

Michael looks around to see who's in charge of the place.

"We need some rooms. And can you rustle up some grub? Near beer too, if you got it."

As Mike calls for service, Ivy surrepticiously looks around for the person who ran inside to see what he's doing.

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She smiles a brittle smile.

"Water will be fine for me."

The place is full of people and everybody looks at the strangers as they get in. Some persons were gathered around the man that has entered, as if he had given a kind of alarm. Everybody, including the man that ran inside, disperse in smaller groups and start talking to each other like nothing happened.

The place has a wide salon with wooden tables. Near the entrance is a counter and the door behind it communicates with the kitchen. There´s a stairway leading upward to the hotel rooms. The interior is rustic and welcoming. The walls have decorations that refer to sea and fishing topics: anchors, lifeguards, fishing nets, shells, whale bones. Photographs of fishermen posing with big fishes are exposed as trophies.

One of the embarassed waiters replies politely to Michael, as soon as he asks for the rooms and drinks.
"Yes, of course, Sir. Please have a seat, oh.. yes... we´re going to serve some near beer for you and the ladies. We can accommodate you on the upper floor. The rooms are $2 at night, with meals provided. Do you want something to eat?"

"Thank you," says Kathryn. "I am getting peckish."

Ivy continues to watch the groups as she sits down. "A sandwich will suffice," she says, distractedly.

Food and drinks are served. People still keep an eye on the strangers every now and then, but now they seems less worried about their presence. Someone is kind of.. bothered. They must wait for some alchool to be out again. Some fishermen are taken by discussions about big fishes. Others alternate their gaze between their dish and the girls’ thighs, trying to forget that tomorrow they´ll have to challenge the sea once again.

There´s enough room for dancing, and a local band starts playing live country music on a small stage. Some women begin dancing. Seem to be the only ones who remember that the night is also made for fun.

The person who stands behind the counter ise the owner of the place. He´s a stressed middle-aged man that does his best to pass his anxiety to those around him. Every now and then, he leaves the courter and moves to the hall, assuring that everything is right with the costumers. He yells at the waiters when they are slow.

At some point, the investigators witnesses a scene that caught their attention. Two guys begin arguing and seem about to start up a fight. They are standing one in front of the other, just beside one of the tables at the end of the hall. One of them is furious, and is shoving the second, who tries to keep calm. The angry guy is a fisherman, a good-looking young man, with light-brown unkempt hair. He´s wearing long old pants, overall and a patched shirt. The other person is a sixty-year-old man, with silver hair and thick mustache. He´s much more elegant in his clothing. He´s dressing a double breasted grey wool suit with peak lapels and white dress shirt.
There are two women at that table. One is a young and beautiful girl just over twenty. She´s wearing a waitress uniform and she must be working in the Inn. The other woman is a red haired charming woman, heaply glamourous and with bee-stung lips. She wears an elegant dress and a necklace of precious stones.

The angry fisherman is trying to convince the young waitress to leave the table and go away with him. The other man and the red haired woman are willing to prevent it. The young girl is embarrassed and confused. The scene has captured the curiosity of most of those present, who look at the table, but without intervening, for the moment.

"I think you should do something," Kathryn says quietly to Michael.

"Yeah, I think you're right, toots."

With a sigh Michael pushes himself away from a big bowl of clam chowder; just about the only thing he can stand to eat on Friday. With visible effort, he stands up and waddles over to the fight.

He flashes his badge. "OK, boys, fun's over. You got a beef, you settle it in a civilized manner. Otherwise, I'm gonna have to haul you down to the local constable."

He takes the opportunity to eyeball the good-looking dames. He addresses the waitress.

"You wanna make out a complaint, miss?"

As Mike handles the situation, Ivy studies the well-dressed pair. Coming from an 'old money' family, she knows, or knows of, a lot of rich people, so she tries to recognise them.

As Michael intervenes. The fight ends. The person around calmthe young man down , and accompany him outside the Inn. The waitress goes back to her work. The red haired lady and his man look at the the investigators with a face that conveys gratitude. Ivy recognizes the man as a guy called Michaud. She remember ahving seem him in Portland onse somewhere. He´s a businessman who deals with fish industry. The woman´s face does not rin any bell.

The red haired woman smiles and approaches the table of the characters. She gives little importance to what has just happened, and a bit more to those strangers in town.
"Forgive my curiosity, but it is not common to receive visits of foreigners in this small town. My name is Darcy Moore, and I hope you´ll have a good stay. If I can I help in something I would be delighted to do so."

"Thank you," says Kathryn with a smile. "My name is Kathryn Adams, and it's nice to meet you. Since we are new in Greyton, we could use some local knowledge. I don't know if you have time to act as a guide, but maybe you could answer some questions for us."

"Detective O'Shaugnessy, from Portland," Michael says."Call me Mike. What was all that brouhaha about, anyway?"

He decides not to mention what he's here for until he knows these folks a little better.