It was 3 AM in the morning of Friday, December 10, 1926. Frank Cannon was sitting by his desk in the office of Cannon, Doctorow & Lockwood, Private Investigators. The desk was covered by notebooks and sheafs of paper, most filled with notes in Frank Cannon's blocky handwriting. Several other items were more carefully laid out on a side table: the scroll that Cannon had taken from "Madame LaVerne", the weird psychic that was subsequently arrested for fraudulent behavior, the notebook of Eunice Saunders, the strange jewelry that Bill Lockwood had snatched from the hold of the S/S Ladylove, and a yet unopened bottle of whisky. Frank had been feverishly at work for more than six days, ever since the police intervention following the storming of the Ladylove by the enraged longshoremen. But even before then, Frank Cannon had left Martin's Beach in the middle of the night as he was struck by a moment of terrifying insight into the depths of the many weird situations he had found himself in over the course of the past three years.
Cannon had actually been inside the office for almost a fortnight, maniacally comparing the scroll with the notebook, and he was very much in need of a bath, a good meal, and a good night's sleep. But sleep had eluded him, and Frank Cannon had only dozed fitfully in a reclining chair for what felt like mere minutes. He muttered to himself about everything seemingly being connected as he filled in the lines of one of his weird graphs yet again. Then his head slowly slumped down on the desk. Frank Cannon was finally asleep.
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