Episode 11 - Sandwiches, Goons, and Books - October 20, 2024

Cast of Characters

Player	Character	Background
John	Keeper	Bringer of torment and delights
Todd	Lawrence “Skinny Larry” Simons	Inventor, saxophonist, and engineer
Eric	Father Gerald “Gentleman Jerry” O’Shea	Catholic priest, former bare-knuckles boxer
Eli	Dr. Kenneth Filmore	Wealthy medical doctor and neurosurgeon

Not Present

Player	Character	Background
Cyle	Aaron Winters	Occultist
Scott	Ritter Gunter “Stig” von Stiglitz	Former German POW

Journal

Tuesday January 20, 1925

From the journal of Lawrence Simons

A productive morning

This morning, I developed the photographs taken in the basement below Ju Ju House. They all came out OK, though paper and silver nitrate can’t really do the subjects justice.

Stig is feeling ill today, and Aaron is dealing with some family business. So Jerry, Kenny, and I continue the investigations without them.

Kenny made a few phone calls and was able to arrange a meeting with Miss Carlyle at the Carlyle Mansion, scheduled for tomorrow 11am. We also telephoned the Harvard Library and learned a few details about the missing book. I’ve gotta say the invention of the telephone makes this sort of work so much easier.

The missing book was “Africa’s Dark Sects” published 1920 by Nigel Blackwell. We learned from the Harvard librarian that when it went missing, there was a notably rotten smell in that section of the library. Maybe the thief needed a bath, or maybe they’re just a zombie. The book is uncommon. There was a limited print run. And some copies of it have been burned. That’s all we learned.

All I wanted was a sandwich, just one sandwich

Around noon, we wandered the streets of New York looking for another one of those “Reuben” sandwiches. While out, we realized we were being followed by a thug. So Jerry ducked into a corner, while Kenny and I continued toward the park on the shore. Jerry was able to pursue unnoticed, following our follower. At some point, Jerry noticed a gang of toughs following along the original guy. Then things turned nasty.

The thugs were armed - some with guns and some with clubs. And a fight broke out. In the end, three of them ran off, one died, and one was rendered unconscious. We took the dead thug’s stuff, and stuffed the living thug into the back of a cab. After a short ride, we got out in Central Park, and interrogated him. Or I guess I should say we tried to interrogate him. But we didn’t get any useful information, and he suicided on an inconveniently placed knife in the eye. Searching the body, we found that he had a panga - the same kind of shortsword-like blade that has been associated with other cultists. I got a photo of the now-dead hostage, so maybe we can figure out who he was later. I suspect he was a member of the Cult of the Bloody Tongue, given the panga.

Book shopping and another gun fight

We continued to search used bookstores for books on African sects, and we did find one that mentioned the symbol that had been carved into Jackson’s head. It is the symbol of the Cult of the Bloody Tongue. That cult, the book said, was originally in Egypt, but then moved to Kenya. We bought the book, in hopes it’ll have information that could help us deal with this cult in the future.

We then returned to our hotel. But on arriving, the hotel detective told us that we have been moved to other rooms. At roughly the same time as we were fighting thugs by the shore, Stig and Aaron had a gun fight of their own. Apparently they won, just like we did. So someone is onto us, and wants us dead. We don’t know for sure who is behind this, but they know where we’re staying.

Given that, we paid the hotel for another week in advance, and then snuck out the back. Then we checked into another hotel under fake names. If all went well, anyone following us will think we are still in the original hotel.

I hope Jackson is OK with us using his money to rent two hotels at the same time. I think he would approve us this cautious approach. In fact, if he thought to lay false trails, he would be alive today.

Gentleman Jerry’s Conjectures and Musings

Larry developed some of the photographs that he had snapped of the Zombies and the Black-Oily-Fleshy-Multi-Faced thing. Stig was feeling ill and Aaron was off handling some family business but would be back soon.

We had but one item on the docket, we seemed to be reaching an impasse and really needed some breakthrough leads before we started gallivanting across the globe half-cocked. The meeting with Erica, Carlysle’s sister, was to occur on Wednesday (the 21st) at 11 o’ clock. A Mr Bradley Gray, her secretary - no, strike that - her lawyer - scheduled the meeting, as we leveraged the good Doctor’s (Kenny, our new cohort) social connections.

Instead of burning precious daylight traveling by rail to the Harvard University Library, we phoned the Weidner Library and were connected to one Miriam Atright, who divulged the details of the missing tome! It was titled “Africa’s Dark Sects” and about the shelf from where it was missing, a disgusting odor of rot pervaded. It was one of a limited print run, many copies of which had been destroyed (burned), and was published in 1920 and penned by Nigel Blackwell.

We put a thumbtack on this, intending to visit a few local used bookstores to see if we could “luck into” a copy.

After a wonderful and unexpectedly filling Pastrami on Rye (maybe it was the crisp Dill Pickle I ordered on the side?), as we strolled down the street we noticed we had picked up a tail - a nondescript, unshaven bum in a worn jacket. When we stopped to look into a shop window, he stopped too, about half a block or so back. He had dark blonde hair and smoked.

We decided to play a game of tail-the-tail, so when the three of us interweaved with a group of oncoming pedestrians, I quickly ducked into a second-hand clothing store, grabbed a shabby, plaid blazer off of a hanger, slapped a quarter on the counter with an apology, and slid into it.

When I saw the tail pass by, I slipped back out, behind HIM. Two can play this game!

Christ on a Bike, there were four more men tailing me and the tail, following me good friends! I didn’t know if Larry and Kenny had seen these four, but noted they had turned towards the expansive Central Park, where slushy paths between piled snow provided a fair cover - not to mention it wasn’t the nicest weather for a stroll in the park.

When my friends paused, all five of these goons yelled and charged them! Two pulled pistols from their jackets, the others had clubs and knives and saps. A furious and quick exchange saw “Skinny” Larry yank the gun away from one of them, and throw it into the Hudson! A single shot agitated the pigeons, who flapped and fluttered into the air. Kenny Filmore had wounded one of the attackers! Using my subterfuge to my advantage, I charged up from behind and nearly cut one of the guy’s legs off with my Fireman’s axe, a crimson spray decorating the snow. Then Larry winged one in the arm, and I added to his misery by striking him on the bridge of the nose with my axe handle. He collapsed, moaning.

The other’s bravado had flagged, and they decided running like hell was their best course of action.

I slapped some snow on the broken nose guy, but Kenny brushed me away, tending to the crushed cartilage in a more professional manner. I carried him to get a taxi while Larry and Kenny briefly searched through the others’ possessions. They had little, except a box of smokes, matches, and a straight razor.

We piled into a taxi, and Kenny slapped a bill on the dash to “forget about us”. The cabbie said “Kinda early to tie one on, friends”, and drove us to a quiet location ‘way on the other side of the park, where we found seclusion behind some bushes next to a frozen man-made lake. Our friend wouldn’t give up the goods, and ended up planting Kenny’s “persuasive” knife through his eyelid and into his brain, expiring silently.

The would-be assassin had a blackjack (Ace and Ten of Spades) tattoo on his bicep. Just a thug. But wait! He also had one of them “Pangas” under his trousers, secured to his hip and thigh.

We covered him with some snow and walked away, trying to figure out who wanted us dead. The crooked Police Chief? The shriveled guy with the basement of horrors? Someone we crossed without us knowing, by talking to Martin’s friends and visiting Sing Sing? The guy that got away, down the fire escape, after carving up Jackson Elias?

I had left the bloody shabby plaid coat rolled up with the dead cultist.

I was hungry again, so we got more sandwiches and checked out three used bookstores. In the third, I found a tome on Egyptian Death Cults, which had slipped partially behind the row of books on its shelf. It described a cult that had relocated from Egypt to Kenya (Again, with the Kenya connection - Mombassa, Nairobi, etc). I bought the book.

I really need to get a map of Kenya. Mark that. I’m so forgetful sometimes.Must be the head trauma from the war and the boxing ring.

Now, back at our hotel, it seems our friends, Stig and Aaron. had fought off some intruders. There’s a benefit to keeping a loaded pistol at the ready. The staff were so accommodating and apologetic, we moved rooms - and promptly booked the week in advance, then snuck out. We checked into a different hotel about three-quarters of a mile away.

My friends are REALLY smart.

Wednesday January 21, 1925

From the journal of Lawrence Simons

After waking and getting cleaned up, we visited the Carlyle Estate. Bradley Grey is Erica Carlyle’s lawyer, and apparently also her social secretary in some sense. She agreed to talk to us on the condition that we don’t mention her family without her approval. I think she’s afraid we’re going to finish Jackson’s book, when all we really want is to break his murderers to justice.

We learned there’s some sort of secret related to a Negro woman named Bunet (did I spell that right?). Bunet was a priestess, according to Roger. Oh, and Roger has a collection of weird books kept in a lock box in the family library. Erica invited us to her upcoming Eclipse Party at the Carlyle Estate, and then gave us access to the library for the afternoon. She went through an elaborate ritual to open the secret shelves where Roger’s special books are hidden. There are four of them.

That’s where we left off for this episode

Gentleman Jerry’s Conjectures and Musings

Off to the Carlysle Estate in Filmore’s fancy schmancy car! It must’ve cost a mint! We came clean to Erica, and offered her the right of first refusal to any story we’d publish of our exploits and discoveries. She wanted to put this business behind her, and protect what remained of her family name. I told her we had two different accounts of her brother’s demise - “mutilated bodies found” vs “only the black porter’s bodies were found, no whites”.

Elias had also reached out to her but she had demurred. Roger’s expedition was a foolish whim, but there was some secret he had possessed and did not tell her. Pointing to a photo, she described a Negress with a French name - “Boonen” or something. She fit into this somehow.

Roger (I think) had had some strange dreams, and reached out to Dr Robert Huskem (Huston?) regarding this woman. Was she a Princess? Queen? Priestess? She spoke with a distinctive accent of the African Continent and had an air of … royalty … about her.

This willing exchange with Erica continued - she permitted us to sit down in her library and read passages from some of her rare books (kept in a secure safe behind a secret wall). She revealed the combination was scribed into a different mundane book out in the unsecured bookshelves. This library was decorated with the symbology of the Sun and Moon. Sun and Moon - THE UPCOMING ECLIPSE !! Erica invited us to a party (optional mask, but fine dress) celebrating this event. A great lead - the perfect site for the next sacrificial murder (I suspect the catering crew will be part of this!)

This library was NICE - she placed a couple of books onto a table. A rare Pinochet manuscript, a book called “Life as a God”, another titled “Amongst the Stones”, and one or two others. Good thing my friends are smarter than me and fast readers!