[IC] Act One: Savannah

Feeling a little better with the shotgun pointing away from them, he says "Hard to tell, with so little to go by..." he murmurs. "What seems clear to me is, we're not going to be let in there, today."

He looks at the posts along the street, to try figure out whether this remote location would have a telephone line. Maybe she doesn't take visitors, but might answer a telephone call?

You can see some wires heading into the property, up high and down the road a ways. Make a Civil Engineering roll.

There are several lines entering the property - at least you assume so - they seem to enter along a partition wall with another property, and some may go to the other place. You notice both electricity and telephone lines that enter the Henslowe property though.

He points out the lines to Weston and Lillian. "Looks like they have a telephone line. Maybe Mother Henslowe might be more ameenable towards a phone conversation... hopefully their number will be listed in a directory. We'll see."

The strange man's words keep echoing in his mind, like a bad omen. 'See what you're getting yourself into...'

"That sounds like a better idea for now, Doctor. I also think we might as well try the Sanitorium, as per the kindly offered suggestion," Lillian says, happy to get away from staring canine eyes.

The drive back to Savannah is much like the route to the Henslowe Plantation - you get stuck in the clay mud, you take several wrong turns (the roads, if you can call them that, are mostly unmarked, so you are never sure quite which road you are on. There are several unmarked (private?) roads which look exactly the same as the "proper" roads too which doesn't help.

All in all, with a break for a spot to eat, by the time you get back to Savannah, it's late evening, and as Dr Walker knows, the sanitorium is likely to be closed to visitors by this point.

"Not our most productive day, unfortunately," Sam says as he leans on the car, watching the sun set. "And now, someone knows we're here asking questions. Just in time for us to have to seperate for the night."

The man shifts uncomfortably. "Unfortunately, you Mrs. Blakely are in the more difficult spot. There don't seem to be too many hotels available to... you. Which means you'd probably be easier to find. And you're alone, because the places that accept you won't accept us."

He closes his eyes and sighs, before reaching under his jacket. "Tell me, Mrs. Blakely, how much do you know about firing a pistol?"

Samuel hands over his sidearm and the spare magazines, providing her with basic familiarization with the mechanics and the basics of firearm safety -- even if she's familiar.

"Well, I feel we made a little progress all the same, Mr Weston : we learned the relation between Virginia and Douglas Henslowe, and know for sure now that Douglas is still in the Sanatorium... also, his mother's reluctance to receive visitors could be interesting in itself."

Upon parting ways with Lillian, he wishes her a good night.

Before retiring for the night, Gabriel will ask at the reception of their hotel to peruse a telephone directory of the area, if one is available (otherwise, it is a first thing in the morning visit to the Post Office).

The receptionist passes Dr Walker a slim phone directory. The number for the Henslowe residence is unlisted, however.

"Thank-you, I've practiced with a Colt .25 before, but this .45 seems it might be too large for me to comfortable with, Mr. Weston."

Nevertheless, Lillian practiced loading and unloading it. Then tried to lay it in her bag. She passed the spare magazines back.

"If I've used this and then need to reload, I'm probably out of luck. I'll return it to you in the morning.

"It's all I have," Sam says apologetically. "It's heavy, but it does its job well. Served me well in the war, and it'll serve you well here." He takes the spare magazines back with a chuckle. "You're right about that. Just don't anticipate the break, and don't rush. One well-aimed shot that hits, or is close enough to force your assailant down, is better than all seven going wide."

When they drop Lillian off at her hotel, Sam meets her gaze and gives a nod. "Stay safe. If you can't... give 'em hell."

When the two men arrive at their lodging, Samuel shakes his head dismally and confides in the doctor. "I'm supposed to keep the both of you safe. It bothers me that the best I can do for Mrs. Blakely is to give her my sidearm and wish her luck."

"Hopefully she won't need either, Mr. Weston. The gun, or the luck. Let's be optimistic. After all, so far we haven't stepped on anyone's toes. A little early, maybe, to be in the sights of enemies..."

Longing for a shower to dispel the stickiness that clings his shirt to his skin, he shares the dead end of his hunt for the Henslowes' number. "No joy with that phone number, I'm afraid. The lady of the estate isn't listed. Oh well, better luck tomorrow. Have a restful night, Mr. Weston."

Lillian makes a beeline for the room, places the gun out of sight, but in reach under the bed and settles in for the night. The best she could, anyway.

Savannah, Georgia, 28 May, 1937

The night passes slowly, as each of you toss and turn in the humid night. The windows are all open to let some of the meagre breeze enter, though it does bring with it a somewhat foetid air from the river. The morning sees you awake, safe and secure, if not well-rested. You meet up again outside Lillian's hotel, and climb into the car once more, since West Henry is still a fair walk away, and even this early, the humidity is wreaking havoc with you, sweat stains immediately appearing and beads of sweat starting to roll down your faces, salty drops entering your mouths and stinging your eyes. You can certainly see why a hat is a necessity here.



It's only a few minutes away, at least, and you pull up in front of a large building. The area has steadily gotten more down market, the street filled with old public buildings and large residences turned into apartments. 513 West Henry is a large, imposing building, A sign outside reads "Joy Grove Sanitarium." Kudzu covers a large part of the facade, with tall, narrow windows - barred, you notice - lending it a looming verticality.



You walk up to the entrance, where you enter into a fairly large waiting room, a nurse at a desk in one corner and several chairs set out in the area, potted plants, and nautically-themed paintings on the walls. The walls themselves have seen a fairly recent lick of paint, but look to have been done by a well-meaning amateur rather than professionals. The nurse smiles at you as you approach, and offers you a book to sign in and asks who you'd like to see. There are several doors - some with very sturdy locks on them - one of which is ajar and next to the nurse's desk. When you mention the name of Douglas Henslowe, a man puts his head around the door and gives you a quick once-over.

The man is in his mid 40s, slender, lightly bearded, bookish with round spectacles, and dressed in a good suit under a white coat, his hair still thick and still slightly more pepper than salt to it.

"You want to see Douglas? Are you friends, or relatives? I don't believe we've seen you here before. I'm Dr Keaton; I'm the physician who's been working with Douglas.

Gabriel steps up to Dr. Keaton, and produces his calling card from his jacket's inside pocket. "Ha, Doctor, we are in luck, then. Allow me to introduce myself, I am a colleague. Gabriel Walker, I am an Alienist practicing at Pickering Psychopathic Hospital, in Arkham Massachusetts. I am a Doctor in Psychiatry from Brown University in Providence, nice to meet you."

He allows the man to check his credentials on the calling card. "We are here on behalf of the family of a man with whom Douglas Henslowe extensively corresponded. I wonder if we can borrow a few minutes of your time to talk about your patient, Doctor?"

Having reclaimed his sidearm from Lillian when she joined them, Samuel now stands in the Sanitarium acutely aware of its weight on his hip. Even though it's hidden by a light jacket, a fleeting moment of concern aboit the safety of carrying around the touched crosses Sam's mind.

"Of course, always a pleasure to talk with a man in the field. We can go to my office if you'd prefer. And these people with you are...?

You're not sure whether the invitation includes the rest of your entourage - after all, if they are not themselves alienists, he might not wish to bore them with jargon, or may wish to discuss a case that involves confidentiality.

Meanwhile, the nurse gives Samuel a smile. A fairly knowing smile?

Gabriel thinks quickly on his feet, trying to gain access for his companions too. "Thank you, doctor. Oh, of course. This is my secretary, Mrs Blakey. And Mr Weston is... a detective, also hired by the family I work for..." he says.

"Shall we?" he adds, trying not to leave the doctor too long to think about his companions' credentials.

"Mrs. Blakey. I've been assisting Dr. Walker at the request of the correspondant's family."

Lillian latches on to Gabriel's explanation.