Crack’d and Crook’d Manse.P1

Crack’d and Crook’d Manse.P1 (Essie, Peter, Jimmy (Lance), Richie)

10am Friday, April 4th, 1924: Marina thanked the mailman, then settled into her routine of opening said mail. “Excuse me Mr. Graves, here’s a letter request for your services.” 

Peter scanned the letter, “Gamwell, Dodge brothers. Arthur Cornthwaite a mutual friend? Never heard of either nor the town. Why would they contact me? Must be good advertising. Marina, get me a map to find Gamwell while I call the others.”

Essie picked up the phone on the 4th ring. “Cornthwaite? I haven’t heard that name in over ten years. Athur was on the Texas dig with my husband Richard and myself. He was another archaeologist. Seems his fascination was lost civilizations. Indian mounds didn’t hold his interest, but he always pondered searching for the lost Anasazi Indians, who mysteriously disappeared from the four-corners area (Colorado, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico) after eons of civilization there. Arthur always said he wanted to make great discoveries. I wonder if he ever followed his dreams?”

Jimmy was eager to get out of town, “How long do you expect us to be gone? A week? I better let the boss know and lineup cover for the speakeasy.” It didn’t take any convincing to get Richie to come along, nor did he scoff when Peter asked for Claude to drive. He did chuckle when he swung by Jimmy’s business first… how Jimmy tried to sit up front beside Claude. That passenger door locked: so much for propping his feet on the dash.

All were ready to just hop in the car and go till Essie suggested they call first. Walter Dodge answered the phone, “Dodge brothers, Attorney’s Office. Cornthwaite? Sorry, who are you? We don’t give out client information. Ah, Mr. Graves’ office. Do put him on.” Peter apologized, “Yes, a new secretary. Trying to break her in. All beauty but… oof.” He winced as Essie’s kicked his shin. “And who recommended us? Arthur Cornthwaite per knowing I work with a Mrs. Vance. Funny you should mention her; that’s my…. Secretary.” Walter continued, “Mr. Cornthwaite has followed her exploits and knew she worked with you per newspaper articles. Anyway, are you willing to handle our case?”

Peter explained, “Yes, it will be myself, Mrs. Vance, my legal rep Mr. Richelieu, and my bodyguard Mr. Sko… Mr. Bass.” Jimmy decided this would be a good opportunity to practice his disguise as Lance Bass. Walter was surprised, “Bodyguard, oh my, hopefully he is not needed in a simple missing person case. Well, you are the investigator and know best. When can you start? My brothers and I are willing to offer $100 to locate Arthur plus another $100 bonus if found within the week. We can go over the details when you arrive. 9am meeting tomorrow? Looking forward to seeing you. And I’ll call the Haggarty Boarding house for the 4 of you. Oh? Five with a chauffeur. OK. See you tomorrow.”

Essie suggested they stop by the Miskatonic Library to research Arthur Cornthwaite. They found plenty of references regarding his wealth from inheritance. Many articles about his generous philanthropic donations. Peter found an article about Arthur leading a 1923 South America expedition, “Says the trip was fraught with tragic loss of life… Arthur the sole survivor.” Essie became concerned for the poor man’s mental health after leading an expedition of death, “That might explain his reclusive nature. Something we can follow up on.”

5:30pm: They left Arkham before sunset and headed west for the 2-hour drive to Gamwell. Claude helped carry Richie’s luggage into the Haggarty Boarding house, run by Hank & Edith. Edith was a bit perturbed, “Ya already missed supper. I serve 3 meals a day promptly at 7am, noon, and 5:30pm. We close the front door at 9pm. There’ll be: no chewing or spitting, no alceehaul, no unmarried couples, no nonsense.” That cancelled Peter’s idea of rooming with Essie. Jimmy (Lance) spoke up with a chaste concern, “Oh my, are you saying there are unholy places in town we should avoid?” Jimmy took note of those places on the edge of town for future reference and attendance.

At least Edith spoke of Cornthwaite with reverence, “Thoughtful, generous man. Always gave interviews to the local paper after his expeditions. Gave generously to charities and even filled our library with wall-to-wall shelves of books he donated. Research for his prior expeditions that he said was no longer needed. Haven’t seen him awhile; been sick I hear. Mabel says he came down with something contracted in South America, he said, that he can’t seem to shake.”

With the library closed, they walked across the street to the diner. At least there were a few patrons still around. While eating, they asked around and learned: usually Arthur announced his departures and arranged for upkeep of his house while he was gone. How he would pay his staff a small stipend for those months he’d be gone. “This time, he just let Janet Farnaby (the maid) and Ralph Dimple (gardener) go without notice or pay. As they told it, he said it was for their own good. If you ask me, he ran off with a woman.” Frank at the end of the counter scoffed, “The way he’s been throwing money around with all his donations, I say his pot ran empty and he skipped town before his debts showed up.”

Saturday, 9am: Walter perked up at the front desk when the bell over the door chimed as the group entered. “You must be Mrs. Vance.” He looked at the 3 men and settled on the well-dressed Richie, “And you must be…” Peter spoke up, “Yes, he is my bodyguard. I’m Mr. Graves, and this is my accountant, Mr. Bass.” With pleasantries soon out of the way, Essie was the first to jump in, “Is there a will that might give us a clue?” Walter smiled, “Unless Mr. Cornthwaite has passed and included you in such will, I’m afraid you’ll never see it. Personal and private; ethics, I hope you understand.” Jimmy (Lance) spoke up, “Can we at least see his books?”

Lance/Essie/Richie poured over the books and confirmed Arthur had made sound investments. Essie looked for receipts regarding his expeditions, “I see receipts for train tickets. I was hoping there might be one for more recent travel. Perhaps we can ask the agent at the train station if Arthur paid cash instead. No stone unturned.” Walter was impressed by their thoroughness as he dug into his desk, “Here are keys to his Manse just outside of town. The gate key and front door. If there is anything else…” Lance spoke up, “We heard rumor that Arthur might have money issues. You haven’t been cooking the books by chance.” Walter was aghast till Peter spoke up, “Parden my accountant. He keeps me on my toes with his point-blank opinions. He’s found altered books when we investigated speakeasies and criminal suspects.” 

Walter straightened his tie, “I assure you; everything is on the up and up. Here’s a newspaper article that explains our position. Even the sheriff has been involved.”

When they got to the street, Claude was talking with someone who immediately straightened as they approached. “Hello, I’m Joe Virelli of the Gamwell Gazette newspaper. Edith was telling me about you folk; I was hoping you would give me exclusive rights to your case. I mean, with world renowned Mr. Cornthwaite, I imagine there will be plenty of interested people.” Richie was already scolding Claude as if he’d ratted them out. Peter stepped forward and gave out a business card, “We’ll keep you in mind. Just make sure you spell our names correct.” Peter couldn’t pass up a chance for free advertising.

10:30am: It was easy directions to the Fitzgerald Estate where Arthur lived. Up the road northeast, lined with tress and farm fields. Essie made eye-contact with one such neighbor as they drove on. 

Once at the end of the road and the estate, Peter got out to unlock the gate. They puzzled as they drove through, “I thought he’s only been missing a month. Look at all this tangle of brush. Even if he released his gardener 2 months ago, that still wouldn’t account for this rapid overgrowth.” 

The house wasn’t in any better condition, “Who shuttered all the windows? Look at the ivy climbing the walls and the trees so close to the house.” As warned, Arthur’s car was still in the driveway. Jimmy checked out the car: leaves littered the hood, the tires partially deflated. A thin layer of dust lined the interior seats as Jimmy slid over to check the glovebox. He even popped the trunk. “No suitcases left behind. By the looks of it, you’d swear he’s still inside the house.”

The Fitzgerald Manse: Of course, no-one answered their calls of “Hello” as they stepped onto the porch. Peter unlocked the front door, and they strolled in. Jimmy announced, “God, musty smell. I’ll open some windows to let in light and help air out the place.” He started in the Library to the left; and had to struggle as the windows jammed per swollen frame. Essie followed to check out the books: wall to wall bookcases lined with books. But she noticed gaps where books were missing, before remembering comments about Arthur donating many books to the town library. “I was hoping to find his notes on his last expedition.” Her words were wasted as Jimmy moved on into the Parlor where he opened more windows as he took note of the rapid deterioration and mused, “Water falls; so, maybe there’s a leak upstairs. Someone forget to turn off a faucet or something.”

As for Peter: he had turned right towards the Cloakroom where he made a mental note that coats still hung on their pegs. As for Richie: he walked past the staircase and headed to the backdoor: locked from the inside. He stepped into the Kitchen and checked the fireplace. Only the expected wood and ash; not like anyone tried to burn evidence or anything. He gagged at the stench of rotting meat coming from the now defrosted icebox. This room, like all the others, showed evidence of moisture damage: blisters in the wallpaper, edges of wallpaper hung loose, the floorboards buckled, that musty smell. [Spot-failed]

Peter moved on into the Study room where he took interest in a rolltop desk. He used his penknife to pry it open where he found a book with its binding already cracking and covered in odd stains. He carefully opened it and began to read from The Missing People: The Tribe That the Jungle Swallowed.

Essie gave up on the books and went looking for Peter. She just crossed in front of the front-door when she screamed with fright at the shadow standing in the doorway. She relaxed when the intruder challenged, “What are you doing here? I’m Sheriff Whitford.” He only took a few steps in before reaching to his right and flipped on the light switch, “I understand there is a group of you hired to find Mr. Cornthwaite. Just so we understand each other: I’m the law around here and this is still my case.” Peter had heard Essie’s gasp and soon appeared to confront the officer, “We were hired by the Dodge brothers. You can be assured we’ll keep you informed so you can attend to more pressing cases.” Sheriff Whitford furrowed his brows as he warned, “I’ll be keeping an eye on you. Don’t be stealing form the place nor wreak havoc.” The sheriff gave one last perplexing look at the decline of the house before turning towards his car.

Jimmy and Richie appeared just as Essie slammed the door shut behind the sheriff. Jimmy was pissed, “I’ve been running around opening windows… and the lights work?!” He didn’t even bother coordinating with the others as he stomped up the stairs to check out his falling water theory. Richie followed Peter and Essie as they went down the hallway past the Study. Richie filled them in, “I found the kitchen with spoiled meat and the Dining room with a single setting. Strange how only the peppershaker was on the table. Anyway…” His words were cut short by a “Crash” as plaster fell from the ceiling, hitting Peter square on his head. “Ouch.” Richie took time to bandage his patient before they entered the storage room filled with moldy boxes and barrels and crates and junk. Essie was on the hunt for boxes labeled with South America travel stamps in case any evidence stored here. And that’s when they heard Jimmy scream!

Meanwhile, Jimmy reached the top of the steps and went straight ahead through the door before him, into the Den. Same mold and wallpaper blisters and cracks and peeling wallpaper. But the double-barrel shotgun hanging over the fireplace drew his attention. As did the 9 shotgun shells that lined the fireplace hearth bench: they had been pried open and the contents dumped out. Neat piles of pellets and powder. “What a queer thing.” 

The crumpled paper in the fireplace caught his eye: “To whom it may concern, … accursed temple…. It followed me here… weakness so simple…” Movement caught Jimmy’s eye. He first saw soot falling from inside the fireplace flue. Suddenly, a tentacle shot out…

[Sanity check] “AAugh!” Jimmy dropped the shotgun as he backpedaled while reaching for his Tommygun. “Rata- tat-tat.” He fired 3 volleys at the extension that reached for his leg. Solid hits if you consider hitting a squishy target solid… the bullets just passed through to chip bricks from the fireplace frame. “HELP! IT’S GOT ME!!” Jimmy grabbed the doorframe for leverage to fight against the tug of the Pseudopod that tried to pull him up the chimney.

The trio sprinted up the stairs 3 steps at a time. Peter was first to find Jimmy. [Sanity check: lost 6 but failed his INT check; so, no Bout-Of-Madness] Peter grabbed Jimmy’s shoulders and pulled with all his might. Richie and Essie were equally shocked [but passed their Sanity check]. Richie called out, “Use your flaregun” as he pulled his rapier and reached around Peter and Jimmy to stab at the thing. Essie drew her bow and leaned in to shoot an arrow. Arrow and rapier passed through the thing like stabbing butter. And that’s when Jimmy leveled his flaregun at the foe… the bright flare blinded everyone as the slug burned into the Pseudopod. And just like that… resistance gone… Peter fell backwards, dragging Jimmy through the doorway with him, while knocking Richie and Essie to the side. Their mouths wide in horror as they watched the Pseudopod suck back up the fireplace flue. “What the hell was that?! I don’t think we hurt it as much as frightened it with the bright light.”

As they gathered their senses, scrambling out of the Den, Essie caught sight of the saltshaker under the sitting chair inside the room. Richie happened to notice the kitchen cannister laying under the divan. 

TO BE CONTINUED: https://wjr5oakley.blogspot.com/2024/01/crackd-and-crookd-mansep2-conclusion.html

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