Evening at J. Pollack Fine Antiques. Burlington Jones is just pouring Howard Lake a generous brandy before serving himself.
- Well, Burlington, we are reaching the end of the year, and what a year it has been! I really cannot believe most of the events that occurred, and I feel like I've aged a decade.
- Ha! You should have been around last year, 1923, when I practically ran J. Pollack Fine Antiques all by myself while Mr. Pollack and his friends were in Egypt, or just out of town. Even when they were here, there seemed to be a steady flow of unadulterated mayhem about that particular group. I am telling you, keep Dr. McNamara away from naked flame!
- But I am trying to get a handle on all of ...this. Do I just suffer from an overactive imagination? Do I need to seek professional help?
- Not at the Arkham Sanatarium, anyway. They have enough loonies at all positions over there. Burlington lit one of the strong French cigarettes that he enjoyed, and he took a long drag before continuing:
- No, you seem somewhat ok, Howard. Just a bit topsy-turvy, if I may say so. You didn't spend any time in the trenches, I take it?
-No....? Why?
- I have seen the stress, panic and pain in the eyes of McNamara. Baker and Pollack, and they have on occasion seemed almost like buddies of mine who suffered from shellshock. I dunno about Chester, though, but he's perhaps made of sturdier stuff. Anyway, whatever they've experienced is real, or at least real to them.
- Do you know how all of this begun, Burlington?
Burlington Jones completed Another drag with a generous sip of brandy before continuing:
- It was around the end of April last year, when Jules Pollack held a soirée here at the store. Baker, Chester and McNamara were all here, and they decided to have lunch next day. As it were, James E. Biron, the very same Biron that tried his hands at land development in New Hampshire, asked Pollack and friends to check on Biron's missing manservant, Hamilcar Hernandez. That led to the mess with the Arumbaya fetish, and that most unfortunate incident with Prka and the Alexandrines, who seem to have thought that they could summon something otherworldly. It all ended in fire and madness, of course. Jones stubbed out his cigarette before lighting a new one.
- So, it is the same Biron that owned Moose Manor?
- Yep, but frankly, I found it a bit strange that Biron would've been so interested in the occult. He was an art collector, first and foremost, and of course an attorney. All of this only took off when he married Sylvia Sasso. That relationship was beyond passion, and not in a good way. I also think there might have been a fair amount of, um, mixing chemicals in their spare time.
- But what about the Germans that show up all the time? They seem to be scrounging for occult items all over the World. We even ran into them at the Chicago Union Station?
- Strange, right? I am not aware of any international connections on behalf of Jules Pollack, and although Dr. McNamara keeps professional contacts near and abroad, I cannot see her socializing with German desperados. The same goes for Moira Baker. I am not entirely sure about Henry Chester, though, but these German fellows are a scary and unsavory bunch of high-octane loonies, if you ask me.
- So, our friends discover these feral so-called corpse eater hobos or whatever they were in the depth of the Egyptian desert and in remote mountains in New Hampshire, and there's statuettes involved, one from Egypt and one from South America. James Biron and wife were connected to at least the Arumbaya thing, Am I getting this right?
- Coincidence or causality, Howard? What do you think?
- But then there's the Germans and Herr Meyer showing up in Chinatown. What was that all about?
- Oh, they were clearly looking for the Liver Ivonis, the dreaded Book of Eibon, which had been in the possession of Moishe Golansky, I believe. They made away with the book, much to the chagrin of our friends. Ask your friend the librarian at Miskatonic about that book if you want the heebie-jeebies.
- Goddammit, this is indeed overwhelming. And I have been harboring this dreadful headache for a couple of days now, and this didn't make it any better. You know, I think I'll retire. Howard Lake slugged down the rest of his brandy as he stood up from the very comfortable couch he'd been sitting in. He left J. Pollack Fine Antiques, closing the door gently and leaving Burlington Jones with a chill. But then, it might have been cold air entering the store from the desolate streets of Arkham.
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