Call of Cthulhu: The King of Chicago [Archive] - Giant in the Playground Forums

Xsesiv

2012-07-08, 10:39 AM

The King of Chicago

OoC Thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=13518584#post13518584)

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investigating lanzetti murder stop onto something big need your assistance stop come to chicago with investigative team as soon as possible stop regards sullivan

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Well, that was an odd telegram. It's not like Sullivan to contact Dr. Lowry out of the blue like that, or to be so abrupt or secretive about his requests. Still, if he's asking for help, the case has got to be interesting, it's been a while since the doctor saw Sullivan, and besides, he always pays well.

It was in the news only lately, so most people are aware that a Chicago mobster by the name of Bruno Lanzetti was brutally murdered a few weeks ago. Consulting the recent newspapers brings up an article with what few details there are:

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Brutal Gangland Murder
________________
Motive Remains a Mystery
________________
Chicago (INS) The mutilated body of gangster Bruno Lanzetti was pulled from a drainage canal early yesterday morning.
A milkman making his rounds just before dawn discovered the body of Lanzetti, aged 31, a member of the notorious Marquette Park Gang.
Police have no leads at this time, but they are linking Lanzetti's murder to the violent power struggle that has developed between rival gangs since the indictment earlier this year of celebrated crime boss Al Capone.
According to Ralph MacTeague, a spokesman for the Cook County Sheriff's Office, this bloody gangland feud is likely to claim many more lives before it is finally settled.

_______

So, naturally, the doctor's rounded up the old investigation squad, shoved them into a couple of cars and had them drive cross-country to Illinois. A motley bunch to be sure: a rum-runner, a nervous wreck who was once a rugby-playing medic, a drunken petty criminal who used to be a priest; but they all have their talents. There's been plenty of time to get reacquainted, the Lincoln Highway's proved its worth, and apart from a few pit stops, it's been constant progress.

Come the afternoon of Friday, November 6th, the cars enter the commercial, cultural, financial and industrial capital of the Midwest, the centre for mob activity, the Windy City. The wind in question is a strongish, cold, northeasterly one today, coming from over Lake Michigan and bringing with it the first few snowflakes of the season.

The population of metropolitan Chicago at this point is over three million, and the city itself sprawls over two hundred square miles, occupying about twenty miles of Lake Michigan shoreline, so that it is a port on a Great Lake. Add this to its being a vital rail hub, linking the Eastern and Western railways, and a dynamic city in its own right, and you can begin to imagine the noise and bustle of the streets.

There's a brief pause to find somewhere to park so that everyone can get out of the cars, stretch their legs, regroup, and be sure that the drivers remember that Sullivan's office is on the corner of Halsted and 35th Streets, in Bridgeport, a predominately Irish neighbourhood, and then it's back into the cars to finish the last little bit of the drive.

Approaching the intersection of Halsted and 35th Streets, the occupants of the cars gradually notice that they seem to be heading towards an ominous great pillar of smoke. As the cars close in on the intersection they find themselves unable to reach it; the road is totally blocked with fire engines and police cars, all wailing sirens and flashing lights. What once used to be Sullivan's office has been gutted by fire, reduced to a smouldering ruin. The soot-blackened bricks still radiate tangible waves of heat, and debris and shattered glass litter the sidewalk and the road. The firemen continue to spray water onto the wreck. The jets of water explode into steam whenever they touch anything.

A number of police officers have cordoned off the building to prevent anyone in the large crowd that has gathered from advancing any closer than about twenty yards. The policemen stand within the cordon to enforce it.

CockroachTeaParty

2012-07-08, 11:47 AM

Of the two cars in the caravan, Clive's is certainly the beastliest. On the highway, the sandy-haired, red-nosed man was prone to getting up to unsettling speeds approaching seventy miles per hour, accompanied by whoops and cackling with maniac glee. Why he has invested in such a powerful automobile seems to be an easy enough question to answer, if his claims to being an experienced rum-runner hold any truth.

To whomever rode alongside him, they found Mr. Chartreux's company to be energetic, and certainly a little eccentric. His accent is laced with a certain Southern drawl, with a dash of Cajun for spice. Not a very attractive man by any stretch, his nose is bulbous and red with broken veins. He has big ears, acne-scarred cheeks, and sports a bit of a pot belly. His clothes consist of shabby trousers, scuffed shoes, a few sweat-stained shirts, and a ratty coat. He keeps a battered newsboy cap atop his head, the better to hide his receding hairline. Despite his appearance, his car is in lovely condition: painstakingly well-cared for, with freshly-waxed maroon paint job, the box of greasy tools in the trunk seem well-used, and account for the engine's smooth running.

During the trip and on the few pit stops, Clive was want to share cheap cigars and a nip of 'shine with anyone so inclined. He seemed generally lighthearted and in high spirits, despite the potentially grizzly nature of the summons. The closer the party got to the Mississippi, the more he waxed nostalgic.
"Old Man River, eh? He's calling me back, he is. Know every muddy bend in it. Can't keep away from it. You'll have to tie a rope 'round my waist, so's you can pull me back out when I wind up in the water again!"

He seems to know the streets of Chicago pretty well; he's been through the Windy City a few times, a fact he repeats often. However, when the group finally reaches the smouldering ruin of Sullivan's office, he lets out a low whistle.
"That's not good. This wasn't what I meant when I said I was hoping for a warm welcome."

Steilos

2012-07-08, 01:13 PM

To keep so happy and chummy when talking to the vortex of negativity and hoplessness in the passenger seat of the car, John Paseldon reckoned that Mr. Charterux had either the patience of a saint or the ear of the Devil. He had sat, or rather more accurately slumped comatose, for most of the early part of the trip, waking up around the halfway mark to discover that the old set of glasses he kept in his old coat pocket were now completely bereft of glass. The mumbled curses that filled the car at this point were probably entirely run of the mill to the wheelman by now.

The frankly pathetic figure, slouched like a feckless zombie adorned in quite possibly pre-War clothing, grunted when Chatereux waxed nostalgic and barely managed to raise himself and stow away his 'turpentine' afterwards. However, as soon as the police and fire services came into view, Paseldon seemed to sober up by about 3 whole arbritary degrees of sobriety as he was suddenly head forward and mildly alert at the sight of the blockade.

"Mrrh... Lookin' like someone stirred up one hornet's nest too many." he said, before sitting back down again. "I don't rightly remember my way around these parts, but I'm pretty sure there's a way 'round that blockade." John racked his brains to try and remember his way around the old town, but three bottles of moonshine are not that easy to shake off. Clutching his gun under his frankly prehistoric coat, John peered expectantly out the car's front window.

Xsesiv

2012-07-10, 01:09 AM

As Mr. Paseldon leans out of the window, he recognises first that this is not so much a blockade as a traffic jam. Further, he sees that emergency vehicles have converged on this intersection from all four sides to deal with the fire, so that even if the cars were to drive all the way around the block and approach it from a different direction, they could still get no closer. Anyone wishing to get past the vehicles blocking the road is going to have get out of their cars and walk past.

While leaning out of the window, he also hears a snatch of speech, as two young women wander past. They, like many others, seem to be leaving the crowd because the fire has been all but put out. "...sure I heard an explosion, but when I got there, they only ever said there was a fire," says one of the girls, the fairer of the two, to her friend.

JaaSwb

2012-07-11, 06:42 AM

Oscar Lowry had never been happier to be a car owner. His Ford was by no means slow, but the speed at which Mr. Chartreux had raced ahead brought him to recall all the irresponsible drivers and their passengers whose shredded remains had passed through Bellevue.

As his hand reached for his cigarette case, it brushed past the lump caused by the snubnosed revolver in his jacket pocket. He was still a bit uncomfortable with carrying it, but Louie Farina knew what he was talking about. You never know when you gonna need it, doc.

At least it was good to see the crew together again. Sure, their previous investigation never turned up anything interesting, but it had been a welcome distraction. Lowry made sure to enjoy the journey to Chicago, taking in the landscape at length, making new acquaintances at stops, and never failing to find a new subject to chat about.

When the cars arrive at the intersection, Lowry is driving in front. He pulls up to the mass of emergency vehicles and parks the car behind them. "Looks like we won't be getting any closer. We'd better get out and see if we can find out what happened to our friend," he says to his passenger.

CockroachTeaParty

2012-07-11, 11:24 AM

Clive parks behind Dr. Lowry, and hops out, stretching a bit. He stares after the two girls who passed by a little bit longer than is seemly, before turning his attention back to his companions and the fire.
"An explosion, eh? Smells fishy to me. It's too much of a coincidence the office of the guy we came to see was blown to Kingdom Come the day we show up in town."

Are there any firemen or police officers nearby that don't look terribly occupied with more immediate tasks?

Steilos

2012-07-12, 07:43 PM

"FAR too much of a coincidence." a voice cut in behind Clive, before its source clambered out of the car a few minutes later. "We need to check out wha's left the office for ourselves sometime - but it's too hot right now, no pun intended o'course."

He waved his arm generally to cover the whole area behind him, making an effort to keep his voice down a little. "Sooo... we gotta find somewhere to hole up and plan somethin'. Plenty of holes around, if you know where to look." He seems to have been revived somewhat by the tension in the air, although it was clear to all assembled that he still wasn't quite with it.

JaaSwb

2012-07-12, 08:32 PM

Lowry, having parked his car, climbs out, various joints cracking as he stretches. He puts his hat on and walks straight to the nearest policeman, missing the conversation entirely. "Good morning, officer," he says, a worried expression on his face. "A friend of mine works in that building. Would you happen to know if anyone was injured?"

Xsesiv

2012-07-13, 02:03 AM

"There was one occupant," says the policeman, a lanky redhead with a jut chin, in a husky, clipped voice. "It was a man, middle-aged, fairly solid build. There aren't any personal details because he was unconscious when the fire brigade got him out, but the gentleman's alive, and he's been rushed to hospital."

"You're his friend, you say? He's been taken to Chicago General. It's on the corner of Lake Shore Drive and 31st Street. No, just a fire," he says, turning away from the doctor to talk to a very tall man.

ocel

2012-07-17, 06:32 PM

A rude awakening awaited Niel Fairbanks on the eve of Dr. Oscar Lowry's arrival. One that could've been averted had the good doctor's employer was more attentive to what preluded their present predicament. But those should or could haves will be forgotten when it shall come to pass. Indeed, so only the most relevant to the present shall be accounted for.

At the time, more pressing issues were present for Niel to notice his coworkers invitations until it was too late. By then they were able to pinpoint the safe house Niel found refuge in spite of how he persuaded its owner to insure his... discretion. Niel rested his head in a spartan Arkham apartment bedroom. After learning first hand why he should cooperate, the super led Lowry up the stairs towards Niel's room.Whatever patience Oscar had left was in short supply, due to losing much time in this pursuit. A little more and we'll be behind schedule, Oscar Lowry thought to himself as he entered Fairbanks's room.

*Crunch.* Beneath Oscar's soles lies a mess of news paper articles, some relating to their mutual acquaintance's demise or another supposedly gang related criminal murders from New Hampshire. Evidently Niel assumed it was the prelude for another gang war , one that would ensnare him and his colleagues, so he fled to whatever secluded corner of the world he could find on such short notice.

Finding a nearby canteen to fill with tap water, Lowry spilled its contents to Niel to stir him from his sleep. Needless to say Niel reacted poorly from the shock and nearly strangled the one whom waked him if he hadn't recognized him in time. Fortunately for Niel, Oscar Lowry was more forgiving than he gave himself credit for when he calmly explained why he wished to recruit him. Afterwards he brought him to his car where they would drive towards their destination.

Hopefully this investigation shall be like its predecessor: a open and shut case. At least Niel could take comfort in the fact that their trip was relatively uneventful, a welcome change compared to those sleepless nights he endured lest the demons of his past find him. This time he was lucky that only Doc could find him... it will be unlikely for Niel to be that fortunate twice.

JaaSwb

2012-07-18, 07:45 AM

After thanking the policeman, Lowry returns to the others, his head spinning with theories. "Sullivan may have survived the fire," he says, his face without any hint of his usual cheer. "A man was taken to Chicago General from here. If malice was involved, he could still be in danger."

ocel

2012-07-18, 08:08 AM

Your theory has merit, but we should get some more evidence before concluding how he fell. Granted, Fairbanks had no place to offer such advice to his mentor after falling to the same pitfalls of paranoia. Still he had to finish what he spoke of with a suggestion of some value, "Do we have any contacts who knew the deceased?" Afterwards he bit his tongue to insure he wouldn't make anymore interjections.

JaaSwb

2012-07-18, 08:18 AM

"I'm not saying someone did cause this, but it's a possibility we cannot afford to ignore. Either way, we should find out if that man is Sullivan, and if so, arrange for him to have protection until we know more about what happened."

CockroachTeaParty

2012-07-18, 09:14 AM

Clive scratches his sporadic chin whiskers, frowning.
"Well, we can't really go rooting around in the ashes right now. I'm up for scoping out the hospital."

Xsesiv

2012-07-18, 11:09 AM

The Chicago General Hospital is a long-established medical centre. From its seat on Lake Shore Drive and 31st Street, not too far of a drive from Halsted and 35th Streets, it looks over Lake Michigan.

The emergency department, as is to be expected in a city with this amount of gang violence, is fairly busy, and more than once an orderly or nurse demands that everyone get out of the way of a gurney. The whole department is regrettably too small and understaffed. The emergency desk is manned by only one person; a bespectacled, flustered-looking woman in her thirties, with her dirty-blonde hair coming out of its bun.

ocel

2012-07-18, 01:41 PM

"Excuse me", called Niel to a member of the hospital's staff walking by them, "could you direct us to your chief supervisor? An a acquainted of ours has either been injured or died in the past few weeks and we wish to learn more so that we can properly pay our respects to him."

Xsesiv

2012-07-18, 02:13 PM

"We've got a reception desk for this kind of thing," says the staff member, a prematurely bald orderly, who is walking very quickly. Looking irate, he shouts the majority of the sentence over his shoulder, walking straight past Neil and not looking twice at him. "Don't waste my time. I'm very busy."

Steilos

2012-07-18, 04:16 PM

John remained quiet after blurting out his suggestion, and gave only a nod to the suggestion of checking the hospital. Walking after the others with only a slight stumble every now and then, he managed a reasonable facsimile of a man with a bad leg. Got to hide the influence somehow...

Upon reaching the hospital, John straightened slightly and faded into the background, beginning to regret drinking so much. Either way, it'd pay to keep a low profile around here.

JaaSwb

2012-07-18, 04:49 PM

The doctor smiles as he looks around the room. Such activity, such urgency, so much running and shouting. Good times.

"Well, let's head there," he says to Niels after his encounter with the orderly. Adjusting his tie, he walks over to the lady behind the desk. "Good morning. Did a Mr. Jack Sullivan come through here by any chance? Sullivan."

Steilos

2012-07-18, 04:55 PM

Xsesiv

2012-07-18, 05:23 PM

"Sullivan..."

The woman briefly consults her book. "Yes, someone by that name has just been admitted. Under no circumstances are visitors allowed further than the waiting room," and she indicates a door beside her desk, which leads through to a small but fairly nicely-furnished room. This fact can be seen because a large window is in the wall between reception room and waiting room, behind the desk.

She looks up, and apparently deciding Dr. Lowry's trustworthy enough to hear it, continues: "Mr. Sullivan's in critical condition."

CockroachTeaParty

2012-07-18, 06:32 PM

Clive pulls at the collar of his shirt after the receptionist speaks. He looks to his companions and shrugs.
"Yeesh. That doesn't sound good. Well, I guess we gotta wait?"

ocel

2012-07-18, 06:53 PM

Niel chose to ignore the orderly's ill temperament lest their confrontation erupt into brawl. Besides both of them had justifications for not having patience with the other, so why distract themselves when more pressing issues are in need of their time.

"Unfortunate," Niel summarized before asking the nurse in charge, "did the physicians report anything unusual about this man's injuries?"

Xsesiv

2012-07-18, 07:01 PM

"In case you hadn't noticed, sir, this is the emergency desk. We're generally more concerned with patching people up than taking a comprehensive stock of their injuries when they first come in. Even if I knew what was wrong, I'm not at liberty to say, sir," says the lady at the desk. "If you'll step into the waiting room, the doctors will be with you shortly, and you can ask them firsthand."

ocel

2012-07-19, 12:06 PM

"Ah, my apologies we'll head to the waiting room in a moment." Niel turns his head towards the rest of the gang and asks, "do you wish to do anything before we wait or no?"

Xsesiv

2012-07-19, 05:17 PM

There's really not much else to do hanging around a hospital, so soon everyone is in the waiting room. Only a couple of minutes later, through the window between waiting room and reception room, a distraught-looking woman can be seen to rush up to the emergency desk. The woman is tall, robust and healthy-looking, blonde, and well-dressed in a green business outfit with matching hat.

She exchanges a few words with the duty nurse before being directed to the waiting room, which she reluctantly enters. She gives a polite but distracted nod to the men already in here. Her eyes are a startlingly bright shade of green, and the suit she wears has clearly been chosen to match. She sits down on a chair, but quickly stands up again, pacing the room in anxiety, restlessly wringing her hands. The room is quite cramped, so her pacing looks quite uncomfortable.

ocel

2012-07-20, 06:36 PM

Best mind our own business lest her troubles be added to our own. With his decision to not interfere with the new newcomer affairs made, he stuck with it by remaining in his seat for the duration of their wait. Occasionally he shifted his eyes to the other rooms should one of the orderlies arrive with more news.

JaaSwb

2012-07-21, 02:16 AM

On entering the waiting room, Lowry hangs his hat and coat on the stand in the corner and seats himself with a Chicago Daily Times from the table. When the woman enters, he greets her with a nod, and continues reading.

Xsesiv

2012-07-21, 09:35 PM

About half an hour later, during which time the woman has been alternately pacing around and around and sitting in a chair, squirming and biting her nails in anxiety, into the reception room comes a tall, dark, bespectacled man from the emergency ward, dressed in a doctor's coat and drying his hands on it. He speaks briefly with the duty nurse, before entering the waiting room.

"Gentlemen, lady," he says, unable to meet anyone's eyes. "I'm Dr. Marshall. The lady said you're all here waiting for news on Mr. Sullivan, is that right?"

"Yes," squeaks the woman, shooting to her feet. "At least, I am."

Doctor Marshall shakes his head. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but Jack Sullivan has died."

The woman begins to weep, then collapses in a chair, convulsed with uncontrollable sobs.

CockroachTeaParty

2012-07-22, 12:17 PM

Clive visibly pales. His mouth flaps open and closed several times, like a fish gasping out of water. He takes off his hat after a moment, and bows his head in silence.

Steilos

2012-07-23, 07:19 PM

John sat with his head bpropped up on the wall in the waiting room as the woman came in, reasoning that the last thing he needed was to cause a scene. Keep calm, ignore everything, blend i-

He blinked once or twice as the news sank in. Sullivan was dead, and with it their lead. Hell, screw that - with the death of Sullivan there was no more CASE. He had the info, he had the breakthrough, and more importantly he knew who they were supposed to go after. He had to all intents and purposes taken that knowledge to the grave, and it was as much the recognition of a wasted journey as well as the loss of an acquaintance that caused him to mutter a short prayer under his breath and bow his head in respect of the dead.

Still though, what now? If they were lucky the gangsters who bombed the place wouldn't have connected the dots - John had no intent of dying over the work of a dead acquaintance, even if the man had family and friends that wanted answers. With no answers for now, John inclined his head to the others almost as if to say 'we still have a job to do.'

Xsesiv

2012-07-23, 10:17 PM

The good doctor clears his throat uncomfortably. "I understand that this might not be the best time, but we can't find a next of kin, and since this young lady is – indisposed – might I impose so far as to ask one of you gentlemen to identify the body?"

He has a point; the young woman's worked herself up into a frightful state. Quite obviously, she knew Sullivan well if she's this upset.

JaaSwb

2012-07-24, 01:13 AM

Lowry stands up abruptly when he hears the news. He has no right to be surprised, but the loss of his old friend still comes as a blow. Could it really be so? Couldn't there have been some mixup? Stupid, getting your hopes up with thoughts like that. He's dead, and the sooner you accept that the better.

"I'll come with you, if that's alright," Lowry says, looking at the others. As he leaves with the doctor, he tries to signal to those that stay behind to take care of the distressed woman.

Xsesiv

2012-07-24, 02:52 AM

"I'm sorry about your friend," says Dr. Marshall, holding the door open for Dr. Lowry. "We did all we could for him, but it just wasn't enough. If it's any consolation, my guess is that he died of asphyxiation. I can think of worse ways to go."

As he talks, he moves through the hospital, ending up in the morgue, where the walls are lined with lockers. In the middle of the room, a couple of bodies are laid out on trolleys, respectfully covered with sheets. "Alright, I just need you to positively identify the body and countersign the death certificate," says Dr. Marshall, still looking rather uncomfortable. He picks up the certificate and a pen from a desk, then moves over to one of the trolleys and removes the sheet from the top part of the body, revealing the face and bare chest of a middle-aged man.

"Well, is this Jack Sullivan?" asks Dr. Marshall.

The build, the blue eyes and the chiselled features are easily recognisable as Sullivan's, and yes, this body once was or once contained Jack Sullivan, however you want to look at it.

_______

Back in the waiting room, the young lady doesn't appear to be recovering from her shock on her own. She is still sobbing quietly, her knees drawn in.

JaaSwb

2012-07-24, 01:06 PM

"Much worse," Lowry says, sighing. It's a small comfort. "I've been in your position far too often."

When the sheet is drawn back, there is no mistake about it. "That's our Jack alright." Lowry looks at Sullivan. At least he wasn't burned to death. I'm not sure I could have faced seeing him like that, he thinks, and crosses himself.

When asked to sign the death certificate, Lowry pauses. "Jack was conducting an investigation involving... certain people. Was the cause of death determined by autopsy?"

Xsesiv

2012-07-24, 01:20 PM

"Not yet, I'm just offering an educated guess at this point," says the doctor. "There is going to be an autopsy to find out the precise cause of death, because our Mr. Sullivan suffered some fairly nasty nicks and burns in the fire and so we can't be sure."

The doctor pulls back the sheet a bit more, revealing a large number of cuts and irregularly-shaped burns. "As for the cause of the fire itself, it looks like these were caused by bits of flying debris. Evidence of an explosion. I know what you're thinking, but it's a matter best left to the police."

JaaSwb

2012-07-24, 07:15 PM

Lowry freezes. "You were going to complete a certificate of death in a reportable case without involving the coroner? I understand you don't want to get involved, but this..." He takes the certificate from the table and pockets it. "This is going to cost you your license unless you report the death this instant, in my presence." He stands closer to Marshall, extending to his full six foot two. "There is going to be an autopsy, you will request that I be allowed to attend it, and I will receive the full autopsy report. Then maybe we can make this go away."

Xsesiv

2012-07-24, 07:42 PM

The doctor sighs. "If you insist, I can ask that you be present during the autopsy. It's scheduled for 2:30 pm tomorrow. If you'll just look at the certificate, however, you'll notice it's not been filled in. The death's been reported to the coroner, and if you want me to take you to him to confirm it, I'm happy to do so. I just wanted you here for a positive identification."

JaaSwb

2012-07-24, 08:32 PM

"And to sign as informant a certificate of death that is incomplete, that you cannot issue in the first place, but nonetheless has your name and signature on it. I apologize for jumping to conclusions, but this is utterly improper. Is there a telephone somewhere I can use?"

Xsesiv

2012-07-24, 08:46 PM

"There's a telephone at each of the reception desks. If you'd rather we did this through totally official channels, we can do that, sir, but the way I saw it, without meaning disrespect, is that there's no harm in cutting corners if it's not going to make a difference either way."

JaaSwb

2012-07-24, 08:57 PM

"It's useful to play by the rules, if only to avoid just this kind of misunderstanding." Lowry relaxes. You're one to talk, Oscar.

"If you don't have a form for the purpose, I'll write up a note certifying that I was shown the body and recognized it as Jack Sullivan's," he says, taking out his pen. "You have to understand, Mr. Sullivan was a dear friend of mine. His death comes as a great shock to many."

Xsesiv

2012-07-24, 09:12 PM

The doctor nods. "I agree, and I apologise. I suppose it's a little insensitive," he says, shuffling the papers till he finds a form and handing it over to Lowry, "but when unnatural deaths start to feel natural, you try to blow through the entire sordid business as fast as you can."

"I'm sure your friend will be missed, sir," he offers.

CockroachTeaParty

2012-07-25, 06:16 AM

While waiting for Dr. Lowry, Clive sits with the rest of the guys, uncomfortably shifting his feet with his hands in his pockets. He was never any good with dames... especially distraught, beautiful ones in a time of crisis. She was probably Sullivan's main squeeze... or maybe his daughter? This was why he preferred cars: the make and model were right there, in black and white.

With nobody else stepping up to console her, he licks his lips and extends a hand toward the woman, retracting it almost immediately.
"Uh... 'scuse me, miss? We... that is to say, us fellows here, well... we're acquaintances of ol'Jack. Acquaintances, and friends, some of us. Well, um... if you need anything, you just let us know, okay?"

Clive has no idea what he's doing! But here's a psychology roll anyway, at a whopping 5: [roll0]

ocel

2012-07-26, 07:36 AM

Abashed for emotionally distancing himself from those around him out of apprehension. Niel cautiously offers a clean handkerchief to the young woman as a nonthreatening gesture of compassion for her loss. Whether she'll accept it or not, Niel will turn his head to John with a, I]'This is neither the time nor the place to discuss business,'[/I] look. Afterwards he'll resign from speaking or gesturing anything of importance lest he risk sounding or looking obtuse in front of their client's former acquaintance.

Xsesiv

2012-07-31, 05:22 AM

The woman takes the handkerchief, but doesn't even bother to bring it to her face as she continues to sob. "Jack said he was going to – to call in some friends," she moans. "He said he was onto something big, but he wouldn't say what. He usually – confided in me."

All semblance of words are lost in the next sobbing fit, this time into the handkerchief. "And now it's got him..." She can't seem to bring herself to say the last word.

JaaSwb

2012-07-31, 06:59 AM

Before returning to the others, Lowry heads back to the reception desk to ask for the number of the coroner's office. "Hello, Dr. Oscar Lowry speaking. I'm calling to make sure my colleague Dr. Marshall remembered to report the death of a Mr. Jack Sullivan this morning. You know how forgetful gets at times."

Xsesiv

2012-08-01, 10:04 AM

"One moment, doctor," says a monotone woman's voice from the other end of the phone.

Surprisingly, she really does only take a moment. "Yes, doctor," drones the woman. "Mr. Sullivan was admitted to the hospital emergency room shortly after 4 o'clock this afternoon and pronounced dead about three-quarters of an hour later. Dr. Marshall suspects asphyxiation due to smoke inhalation as a cause of death, but there's to be an autopsy tomorrow."

ocel

2012-08-02, 09:17 AM

When Niel's generosity failed to consul her out of mourning he turned towards his coworkers for aid in this endeavor. Whether their able to help him or not, shan't prove itself a problem that Lowry couldn't remedy in the indeterminable future. Even should that fail as well, there were better things he could distract her with until inspiration struck him with an answer.

JaaSwb

2012-08-02, 10:48 AM

When Lowry returns to the others he confirms Sullivan's death in the same tone of voice he has used so very often. He sits with the grieving woman, gives a few sympathetic words, and ends with an offer to drive her home. It's all strangely comforting, going through these familiar motions.

Xsesiv

2012-08-02, 04:16 PM

"Thank you," says the woman at the offer of a lift. She is still obviously very upset but seems to have pulled herself together somewhat. "I had to get a cab here. I was out running an errand for Jack, and when I came back the office was burnt down."

ocel

2012-08-04, 07:46 PM

Paying mind not to bump into anyone, Niel helps himself and their former client's acquaintance off the floor before leading her out the hospital's waiting room. Being sure to open the door and help her enter Lowery's automotive. While driving her back home, Niel looks over his shoulder every now and then in case those responsible for Jack's death were pursuing them as well.

CockroachTeaParty

2012-08-04, 07:51 PM

Clive continues to hold his hat, threading it through his grip like a strand of prayer beads.
"So, Doc, if you're driving the lady home, what should we do? Find a place to hole up? Some kinda hotel or somethin'?"

Xsesiv

2012-08-05, 09:31 AM

"I live on a boarding house on Armitage Street, between Fremont and Bissell," says the woman, allowing herself to be helped up. "Helen Mussida's my name. If you're looking for a hotel, I can recommend a few. I have to know that sort of thing for my work."

She sniffles briefly. "If you're hanging around because you're still interested in that Lanzetti case, we can try to clear it up if you come and visit me tomorrow. I don't really feel ready for it at the moment."

JaaSwb

2012-08-06, 05:34 AM

"We wouldn't want to rush you," Lowry says, smiling friendly. "Where would you recommend we stay?"

Xsesiv

2012-08-06, 01:21 PM

On the drive to the boarding house, Miss Mussida rattles off a list of hotels and addresses from memory. Most of them are in the middle of the range. "They're all clean, fairly nice," she says, "but nothing special. Some of them are more expensive, but you get what you pay for. You might have heard of the Michigan, and you might want to try there if you prefer the high life, but that'll set you back fifteen, twenty dollars a night at least."

Before too long, the car pulls up outside the boarding house she mentioned. "Thank you for the lift," she says, apparently on the verge of another sobbing fit. "I'll see you tomorrow, I hope." She turns and heads up the steps to the boarding house.

ocel

2012-08-08, 01:21 PM

"Indeed," Niel acknowledged before turning to his coworkers. He'd anticipated their next course of action would be to learn all they could about Chicago before establishing a base of operations. However, perhaps that wouldn't be necessary? After all, a renown hotel would do anything to prevent a murder investigation ruining their reputation. Like hiding in plain sight. Unless they've got something to fear than their fellow man, then the likelihood of an outright attack would be improbable.

Steilos

2012-08-11, 02:53 PM

John straightened himself up, but remained silent. He wasn't accustomed to the high life, but it might be better for them to go incognito there. On the other hand, they could dive further into disrepute, into the kind of places where a bottle of 'shine or a handful of cash could earn your anonymity quick and easy. He looked around around uneasily at the others. "So... Chicago. Been a while. You know, I think my old flat's still empty somewhere in this city. Don't think anyone cared enough to replace me." he said with a mirthless chuckle before checking his moonshine was hidden.

"We need to get a nice place to shelter up. Somewhere reputable, somewhere clean. Somewhere too populated, too influential to blow." He looked over at his fellow investigators. "What did she call it again, the Michigan?"

CockroachTeaParty

2012-08-11, 03:41 PM

Clive lets out a low whistle.
"$15 a night? Man, I don't plan on makin' a habit out'a that. As long as I got a place to park, I'm all set."

ocel

2012-08-11, 03:48 PM

Clive's opinion provided a opportunity for Neil to speak his own. "Shouldn't set us back if we pool together. Besides there're things money can't buy back..."

Xsesiv

2012-08-15, 05:07 PM

The Michigan Hotel, located on the corner of LaSalle and Illinois Streets, is a vast, palatial building, with twenty-four floors and two hundred and sixty rooms, convenient to the financial district, exchanges and law firms.

Inside, the lobby is panelled in oak, appointed with antiques and original artwork, with Victorian wing and club chairs, couches and side tables arranged to encourage conversation, while in the middle a large, splendid marble fountain is surrounded by dolphin-riding cherubs who spray jets of water into a bronze urn in the fountain's centre. A pair of elevators are flanked by a magnificent pair of curving staircases with hand-wrought banisters.

At the front desk, the receptionist, a sleek, bored-looking youngish man, doesn't wait for an inquiry, but offers in a very clipped voice: "If you're looking for rooms, gentlemen, we've only got the standard single rooms left, not many of them, and definitely not all on the same floor. Seventeen dollars per person per night, but that's with private bathroom, use of the recreation centre and complimentary valet service, of course. And there's evening entertainment on the second floor, in the Lincoln Room."

ocel

2012-08-16, 02:11 PM

Also forgoing pleasantries, Niel informs the receptionist that... "We'll be sharing living expenses." Pausing mid exposition until he finds everything necessary for credit evaluation. Once finished, he'll place them on the desk for inspection. "I trust there'll be no trouble accommodating us." Normally hesitating whenever leaving a trail of papers for constables to follow, the risks of death far outweighed imprisonment for him to ignore. Fortunately his Businesslike demeanor masked whatever anxiety felt.

Xsesiv

2012-08-19, 07:28 PM

"Sixty-eight dollars per night for the four of you, then, sir. We prefer payment in advance." The receptionist glances down at the papers looking singularly uninterested, then turns to pick four keys from the rack behind him. "Rooms 607, 609, 701 and 810. I presume you'll be paying by cash?" he adds dryly.

JaaSwb

2012-08-20, 09:40 AM

Lowry puts down his bags. Payment in advance? That's a bit unusual for a respectable hotel. Then again, the group didn't look all that respectable themselves. He takes a roll of cash from his pocket, counting out 136 dollars. "Here's two days in advance. We'd prefer to settle the rest at checkout, by cheque. We could be in town for a week or more, and I wouldn't be comfortable carrying that kind of money around."

Xsesiv

2012-08-20, 02:48 PM

The receptionist nods, takes the money and hands over the keys. After a couple of formalities like the signing-in book, porters arrive to help shift the luggage to the elevator. The elevator operator puts his hand on the lever.

Suddenly, a series of bright flashes and soft explosions come from the lobby, roughly from the direction of the entrance. Questions start to be shouted. The operator peers out to see what is going on.

"Mr. Brennan! Mr. Brennan!"

"How long do you plan to stay in Chicago, Mr. Brennan?"

"What are your plans for the future, sir?"

"Was your tour a success, Mr. Brennan?"

As a group of newspaper men with flashing cameras start to come into view as they make their way around the fountain, a tall, ruggedly dapper man with close-cropped dark hair emerges from them and begins to run for the elevator. "Hold the door," he calls in a distinctly English accent to the operator, who complies. The man enters the elevator, still chased by cameramen, and then looks around the group. "Sorry to hold you up. Charles Brennan." He holds out a hand as the elevator begins to rise.

CockroachTeaParty

2012-08-20, 03:13 PM

Clive, who has been feeling increasingly out of his element since entering the hotel, feels humbled in the presence of Mr. Brennan, apparently a celebrity of some kind. He tries to wipe his hand discreetly on the back of his trousers before extending it.
"Clive. Uh... having trouble with the press, there?"

Steilos

2012-08-20, 07:34 PM

After Clive asked his question, the next hand to be put forward was John's, figuring he may as well get it out of the way. "John. Pleasure to meet you." And that was it. Not one for words, John let the rest of the group handle the celebrity.

Xsesiv

2012-08-21, 05:08 PM

"You get used to it," smiles Mr. Brennan, shaking hands. "All it means is that I miss a few elevators every now and again. Everyone else went back to Hollywood after touring, but I decided to stay here for a week or so to shake the press off. Nothing seems to work." He screws up his face in mock depression.

ocel

2012-08-23, 08:33 PM

Leaving his coworkers to their own devices until... "Ah!" Niel recognized whom they were speaking to... "The Buccaneer, I presume?"

Xsesiv

2012-08-25, 12:54 AM

"I'd prefer my real name when I'm not working," says Brennan, smiling.

The elevator slows and the operator, a short, portly older man with a moustache, adjusts it in bumps. "Sixth floor," he says, dully.

Over this floor and the two above are spread the rooms paid for a moment ago. Leaving Mr. Brennan behind in the elevator (his room, he says, is on a higher floor), and passing through the corridors (all done in mauve and sea green and with lots of antiques and original artwork), the rooms are reached. These are all fair-sized suites with a comfortably big bed in a bedroom, a bathroom, and a separate sitting area with writing desk and chairs. All the furniture is oak, all the bathroom fittings are marble and brass, with oversized tubs, and there are pleasant, fresh floral arrangements and all the Chicago newspapers neatly laid out on side tables.