THE ARKHAM ADVERTISER

Wednesday, October 7, 1925

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Tommy the Prize-winning Terrier Amputated; Leg found on Lawn

*

A brutal act of animal cruelty has left the mayoral dog Tommy without a left back leg. Arkham's favorite pooch was found whimpering on Mayor Bryce's front lawn early on Wednesday morning. The Arkham Police Department subsequently received a tip to search a neighbor's house for the cruel culprit. and a brutally severed canine leg was supposedly found. At least one suspect was arrested, but the Arkham PD has not shared any further details.

Tommy the Terrier

Daring Escape from the Arkham Sanitarium

Peter Maxwell, M.D. escaped from the High Security Ward of the Arkham Sanitarium just before midnight on Tuesday. Maxwell managed to strangle a warden, Paul Blakeley, after feigning to be securely immobilized in his cell, and he managed to break out of the sanatorium after securing some medical equipment and certain experimental chemicals. Maxwell was committed to the Arkham Sanitarium after the Topsfield Power Plant explosion in April this year, when he was found running around in then forests north of Arkham in a state of acute mental distress. He had no memories whatsoever, and he was dressed in a full surgeon's outfit, including facemask, gloves, goggles, and a scalpel.  

Dr. Maxwell graduated from the Miskatonic University Department of Medicine in 1924. He was a recipient of the Francis B. Peabody prize for Academic Achievement together with Mr. Herbert West that same year. Dr. Maxwell was subsequently left in the caring hands of Dr. Herbert DeVos and Head Nurse Abigail Dawson at the Arkham Sanitarium.  

Dr. Maxwell

Feds Close up Pleasantville - Population Relocated

Federal troops have closed the mining community of Pleasantville, located in the Halliburton Hills in northern Massachusetts. According to Federal representatives, the site is deemed too contaminated to be inhabited by humans, and the population has been relocated to Boston, Gloucester, and Arkham. Anton Szypczyk, one of the miners, told the Arkham Advertiser that he was glad to finally have a modern apartment and access to a good public school for his eleven children.

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Campaigns and Rallies

That Monday, October 5, was spent catching up on sleep after the ordeals of the weekend. The horrific events that occurred at Miskatonic University Library had been "taken care of" by Professor Armitage and some highly trained professionals. The only mention of the events was an article in the Arkham Advertiser that told a reader of a case of suspected arson in which a car exploded. The Arkham police, was, of course, investigating.

Next day the Intrepid Investigators assembled at Jules Pollack Fine Antiques for a hearty breakfast and to discuss the invitation from author Ella B. Cocker to got to Maine for a little vacation. As they were finishing up their delicious breakfast, Jules heard Burlington Jones arguing with someone out in the store. Jules, being curious, walked into the store only two find three individuals talking to Jones: a tall, handsome man, a very attractive woman, and a very heavy-set gentleman who seemed to be looking around while sweating profusely. The handsome man excused himself from Burlington Jones and extended his hand towards Jules. "Hey there, you must be Mr. Pollack. I am Dunstan Dunford and the next mayor of Arkham. These are my associates, Ms. Carrie Brown, and the big fella is Country Breakfast. Say, Mr. Pollack, are you a registered Democrat?" And then the political discussion was on, with heated arguments between Jules non-conformist viewpoint and Dunford's campaign. The discussion was only briefly interrupted when Mackie entered the store, wielding a cigarette holder and a cocktail while yelling "Fuck off!" 

That exclamation also led to Howard Lake sliding up to Ms. Carrie Brown. Howard was in pursuit of information about Dunford and his campaign, but also of any fringe benefits that might be the result of charming Ms. Brown. However, Ms. Brown turned out to be the commensurate professional, and Lake's advances were meat with leaflets and flyers proclaiming the virtues of Arkham's next mayor, while pointing out that the current mayor, Jonathan Bryce, really hadn't contributed anything to the betterment of Arkham. Meanwhile, the man simply referred to as Country Breakfast had a nice conversation with Mrs. O'Flaherty and some mincemeat pie. 

Dunstan Dunford

Ms. Carrie Brown

Country Breakfast

Dunford and his associated eventually left, and none of the Intrepid Investigators were too impressed. A Democrat? In Arkham? And what was so wrong with Mayor Bryce? Felix Jeremiah decided to share the medical journal that he had taken care of in Dr. Queeg's office during the weekend:

Some highlights from Dr. Queeg’s treatments of Mayor Jonathan Bryce

 

May 1, 1925

I am really feeling stressed, worn out and empty. I do not know if I even should run for another term. I have honestly really tried to be an honest and hard-working mayor, and I can point out all kinds of success stories, but it is so tiring to just go from one disaster to another. And now we had the power plant explosion, and I have been accused of causing it due to ineptitude!

 

July 17, 1925

I have tried the new medications you gave me, and although I feel less stressed, I have been suffering from some problems sleeping. I have occasionally been in a state where I am really not certain if I am awake or not, and sometimes I’ve seen strange things, often through the windows, like figments of dreams.

 

August 30, 1925

I am really so glad that you could see me at so short notice. My wife is sick, and I am so worried. You know, it runs in her family, and I have dreaded this moment for so long.

 

September 14, 1925

It feels as if these dreamlike visions are becoming more persistent, and recurring. I thought I was sleeping soundly and dreaming when I saw this grotesque naked woman leering at me through my bedroom window. It was terrifying, but as I turned on the light, she was gone.

 

September 22, 1925

Dr Queeg, I saw her again, in the middle of the night! This time I was returning from an excursion to the restroom, so I am almost entirely certain that I wasn’t sleeping. She has dark, wavy hair, and she is covered by grotesque patterns, like messages from an inmate at the Arkham Sanitarium! She smiled crazily at me again before disappearing, just like that! I am really stressed again, and I feel my heart pounding just as I think about it. How will I have the energy to meet my constituents tomorrow?

 

September 24, 1925

This time there was music, music that played all night, it seemed. My poor wife couldn’t hear it, but I heard it: repetitive, monotonous music. Am I losing it? Am I overworked? Should I just retire?

 

September 29, 1925

There were several of them this night. The grotesque woman, some form of really strange and frightening animal, and something that looks like a pierrot or something similar. I am so glad that you encourage me to remain in the mayoral race, but I am feeling so exhausted. 

Mayor of Arkham Jonathan D. Bryce

It was a strange read, and yet difficult to figure out what was going on. Lake pointed out that there were no indications that Dr. Queeg had tried to influence Mayor Bryce in the way the nefarious psychotherapist had experimented on Lake and perhaps even Moira Baker. Yet, the circumstances were starting to make the Intrepid Investigators more than a little curious.

As morning became afternoon, Felix Jeremiah went out to gather the signatures necessary for his mayoral candidacy, included knocking at the door of Psilander House, Dr. Queeg's luxurious mansion. The staff had no clue whatsoever as to where Dr. Queeg had disappeared to, but Felix had a nice chat with the butler and the head maid while explaining his candidacy and political program: "Standing Up for the Little Guy." He did manage to gather the required signatures for his candidacy just before City Hall closed, and as Felix handed in his immaculately completed paperwork, he could not help feel quite satisfied with himself. 

Howard Lake had managed to arrange a meeting with Ms. Carrie Brown. Unfortunately, the meeting was not as fruitful as Lake had hoped. Ms. Brown remained completely professional, and clearly a very dedicated campaign worker. So far, there seemed to be a potential campaign rally as part of the future for Lake and Ms. Brown.

Jules Pollack had to deal with the impending resignation of Burlington Jones, while Mackie took care of Karen as she pretended to grade some essays. Some further inquisitiveness on behalf of the Intrepid Investigators revealed that Dunstan Dunford was an attorney, and that he'd been in Arkham for five years. There was little information to be found on his background, so Jules and Mackie decided to place telephone calls to the Massachusetts Bar Association first thing Wednesday. They also decided to call a contact at Harvard to ensure that Ms. Carrie Brown was an actual graduate from the prestigious collage.

The following morning turned out to be rainy and windy, the first fall storm of 1925. Telephone calls were placed, and Harvard did have a graduate by the name of Carrie Brown, class of 1920. The Bar Association did have a Dunstan Dunford registered as having passed the bar exam, but apparently he had never practiced law, neither in Boston, nor in Arkham. There was one other thing though: all the records of Dunstan Dunford were registered as being copies of originals. There might be a perfectly plausible explanation to this, but it nevertheless seemed odd, and a further telephone call was placed by Mackie to Boston State College (BSC), where Dunford was claimed to have earnt his degree.

Mackie was apparently a known quantity on Campus, and a couple of undergraduate students had actually only recently transferred to the Miskatonic University archaeology program, so the registrar and bursar were more than happy to share some information. Bottom line, there was no Dunstan Dunford amongst the BSC alumni. A further telephone call to City Hall in Boston revealed that all of Dunstan Dunford's original documents had been destroyed just about five years ago. He was also the only child of deceased parents. Mackie nodded slowly to Jules as he hung up the receiver. This was indeed getting curious, and the clock was not even ten in the morning!

A Horrifying Comedy

Sunday, October 4.

From the diary of Mackenzie MacNamara:

There was research to be done that Sunday, and we headed out to the Miskatonic University Library to find information on the Charaka Samhita, the El-Mansuri, Die Behandlungen der Irren ohne mechanischen Zwang, and Über Sprachstörungen im Traume. The library is actually open for a couple of hours on Sundays, and as we entered the library I ran into one of my graduate students, Amanda Bowman. She whispered to me that the library has a new employee who rules over the checkout counter. She did in all likelihood have a name, but she was only known as "The Potato Chip Lady". To know her was to fear her, as the silence of the ancient library was interrupted by the recurring crunch of yet another chip being devoured by The Potato Chip Lady. Anyhow, the books turned out to be early texts on what we would call psychology and psychiatry, and they had all been checked out by Dr. Henrietta Queeg. A further conversation with Professor Armitage about the arcane contents of the closed stacks made clear that Dr. Queeg had been reading some of the more obscure books mentioned in Lake's note. Hm, it seemed as if Dr. Queeg had been experimenting with psychotherapy and eldritch unholy mysticism connected to primordial beings of alien origin. What could possibly go wrong?

From the diary of Jules Pollack:

I wasn't invited to the Sunday reception for Victor Ventura, but I was expected. Dr. Queeg's mansion, Psilander House, was indeed grand, and so was the reception itself. Moira was there, but she seemed, well, odd. More odd than usual. But, we had a plan! Felix was left behind upstairs, while we stayed as long as humanely possible. It turned out that Queeg, Ventura (or whatever his name might be), Henry O'Reilly, and another thug, Pete The Meat Brazzo, took off in an automobile. The left Arkham, with Mackie and myself in hot pursuit. As it were, they turned off after ten or so miles and parked outside small house north of the road between Arkham and Boston. I pulled out the ignition cables out of their car's engine just for fun after sneaking up to the house, and we took a quick peak in through the dusty windows. It seemed as if Queeg was preparing some kind of ritual, and after some time the entire party of goons, comedians, psychoanalysts and Moira Baker left for the car. Some cursing and quick repairs, and they started off on the road back to Arkham.

  

Pete The Meat Brazzo

From the diary of Felix Jeremiah:

https://open.spotify.com/track/6avV0X27a8FKFbX8JOdHbc?si=6f27b22d46474af5

The contents of Dr. Queeg's office were, well, quite interesting, and I just felt that I had to take care of certain parts of these contents. There is much to be read...

From the diary of Howard Lake:

Ther were explosion and a fire by Miskatonic University, so I ran into my car and drove straight to the university. A car was on fire, apparently after suffering a catastrophic explosion. A weird blueish pulsating light came from one of the side entrances to the library building, and I pulled out my trusty Luger and entered, perhaps foolhardily. I was met by a gruesome scene that clawed at my sanity and made my stomach heave. Brazzo and O'Reilly seemed to have been turned inside out to a gruesome mess of intestines, organs, bones and blood. Ventura was crouched over the Necronomicon together with Queeg, and Moira seemed to be lying lifeless next to them. Jules and Mackie had already entered the room, and they were trying to revive Moira as Ventura and Queeg stood up. I instantly noticed, to my utter horror, that the New York comedian had been hideously transformed into a garish parody of of human appearance. I could only stare helplessly as they ran out of the building, laughing maniacally. 

Brazzo?

O'Reilly?

Epilogue

He had really believed in Dr. Queeg and her increasingly odd occupation with occult forces beyond comprehension. He really thought that reading the ancient text would make him a whole human being, that his inner demons would be dispelled and leave him forever. He longed so much for peace, quiet and harmony, and perhaps a life more ordinary. The revelations from the text did nothing of that, nothing at all. Although he couldn't understand the meaning of the long and difficult syllables, he felt as if they explained things to him, down to a sub-molecular level, He saw things that no mortal man should be exposed to, things and circumstances that started to change him through contortions and convulsions as the unbearable horrors of vistas beyond our space-time revealed themselves in thoroughly soul-destroying glimpses of despair. After what seemed like aeons of torment, he felt thoroughly changed in in a physical way. His hair had morphed into chloride green, his skin was so pale that it was practically white, and his smile, the smile that had wooed audiences all over America, had turned his face into a permanent contortion, a parody of his stage persona. Worst of all, all that those ideas, principles and hopes that he'd held so dear turned out to be mere parts of a comedic mess. A joke.

A Confrontation - and Saturday Evening Vaudeville!

Lake woke up early, a man with a mission. He told his landlady, Mrs. Inez Rostankowski, that a locksmith would be visiting this morning, and he called the aforementioned locksmith promptly at nine o'clock. Having dealt with this pressing issue, he took a brisk walk to Jules Pollack Fine Antiques, hoping that Mrs. O'Flaherty might have some breakfast ready. Arkham was definitely showing signs of entering fall, with a bit of a wind and the leaves just turning in Independence Square. Oh, well, it would all be better after breakfast, and perhaps a chat with Dr. Queeg. This may be the right time to tell her about the issues with Violet.

The intrepid investigators were indeed having breakfast at together with Jules, although Moira was missing. They were about to finish up when Howard stepped into the dining room, and he instantly saw Violet. The lively conversation ended right away as the siblings stared at each other. Violet started yelling at Howard, tears welling up in her eyes, while her visibly shaken brother accused her of stalking him and hiding out in odd locations, spying upon him, and smiling weirdly all the time. Violet said that she needed to leave, but Mackie's steady hand and reassuring voice convinced her to stay. Mrs. O'Flaherty's fortified sherry settled the matter. The exchange was uneasy, not to say unnerving, but it was decided to not leave the siblings by themselves until it was sorted out what had really happened. Was Violet insane, or Howard, or both - or neither?

As it turned out, Moira was staying with Dr. Queeg, and Howard left to collect some things from his apartment, since he would be staying with Jules a couple of days until things were sorted out. Felix and Franz followed him to the apartment, which had a new lock. The odd list was still lying on Howard's desk, and Felix decided to discreetly place the note in his pocket to share it with Mackie.

• Cultes des Goules, 
• De Vermiis Mysteriis,
• The Seven Cryptical Books of Hsan, 
• Charaka Samhita, 
• El-Mansuri, 
• Die Behandlung der Irren ohne mechanischen Zwang, 
• Über Sprachstörungen im Traume,
• Al Azif 

Mackie and Jules looked over the note back at Jules Pollack Fine Antiques while Lake installed himself in an upstairs bedroom. It was indeed a strange concoction of texts, all penned in Lake's meticulous handwriting. Professor Armitage had talked to Mackie, Moira and Jules about the two first books, the Cultes des Goules by Comte d'Erlette, and De Vermis Mysteriis, as well as the Al Azif, the dreaded Necronomicon, written by the mad Arab Abdul Al-Hazred many centuries ago. The tome is said to hold clues to a dark and troubling past, and perhaps also to an equally disturbing future. The ancient text was supposedly very difficult to penetrate, and a real challenge to both mind and will. The remaining five titles were not known by either investigator. Something in Hindi, something in Arabic, and two German titles? And what was Hsan? They discussed the matter at some length until it was time to get ready for this evening's vaudeville show, which was conveniently located at  Myrtington House, just across Independence Square. The lineup seemed promising:

• The Moxies, America’s MOST Exciting Dance Troupe
• Little Miss Crusoe, a humorous take on the novel, performed by real Midgets
• Nimble Norman, A Yankee Acrobat and Real Rubber Man
• The Stunning Miss KitKat Le Noir and her Tame Cats
• Senorita Carmen LaFlor, The Latino Singer Extraordinaire
• Victor Vega, the Legendary New York Comedian
• The Pickle Sisters
• The Mysterious Dr. Z

And the Master of Ceremonies, Mr. Kyle Kelso.

The theater was fairly small, with a small reception area leading into the theater itself. The show was sold out in what promised to be an amazing evening. The intrepid investigators arrived just before Dr. Queeg and Moira, who were accompanied by Victor Ventura and a figure that Felix Jeremiah recognized: a certain Henry O'Reilly. But what was Henry O'Reilly doing in Arkham? Felix knew that there were all kinds of rumors surrounding O'Reilly. He had a reputation of being a real sadist, and he supposedly had a collection of various taxidermied body parts, especially ears. 

Henry O'Reilly

However, the evening started with a loud disagreement between Dr. Henrietta Queeg and local celebrity author Ella B. Cocker. Jules could not hear what the argument was about, but he made a mental note to self to inquire further during the intermission.

The first part of the show was most entertaining, and the crowd was loud and cheerful when it was time for intermission. Mackie went up to Moira, who was glad to see Mackie, although she seemed, well, drunk. She was distant, non-focused, and not attentive at all. Weird. Jules did spot Ella B. Cocker, and the author did recognize Jules Pollack. They had tun into each other on a couple of occasions, although they've never really had a lengthy conversation. Jules found her "Order of Taarna" to be quaint, as he considered the "secret society" to be a haven for dilettantes. Cocker, being a warm and engaging person, albeit a bit full of herself, was more than willing to discuss the argument with Dr. Queeg. Ella claimed that Dr. Queeg, a former member of the Order of Taarna, had attempted to convince two of the members of the Order to partake in strange psycho-occult experiments. Cocker saw this as potentially dangerous, and she had made sure that there'd be neither experiments, nor volunteers to be had. 

Ella B. Cocker

Howard Lake thought that Kit Kat Le Noir seemed more than a little bit interesting, and he wanted to make a move on her. Franz Alter was, as always, only a pace behind him, and irritating as that might have been, Howard nevertheless decided to approach the stunning beauty and her feline friend. Despite Howard's good looks and charming comments, Kit Kat Le Noir seemed less than interested, and as Howard changed his focus to one of the Moxies, Kit Kat Le Noir started engaging Franz Alter instead. The result was chemistry on several levels. It turned out that they shared similar interests regarding recreational drug use, and Franz Alter even got a bit excited, despite the cat draped over Ms. Le Noir's shoulder. Franz thought of the enormous cat that lived with his mother, and he suppressed a slight shudder before reengaging in the stunning Ms. Le Noir. What a pleasant woman, and now even more so on amphetamines! Meanwhile, Felix struck up a budding friendship with Nimble Norman, whose real name was James Tipton. Nimble Norman was rather eager to include Felix as a guest star in his show, and Felix promised he'd take this under consideration. 

Nimble Norman

Kit Kat Le Noir

The second act was equally amusing, and Victor Vega (or was it Ventura?) did put on quite the show. His stage persona was quite different from his shy and reserved private personality, and his witty puns and incredibly wide smile really captured the audience. He announced that this would be his last performance in Arkham, and that he would be heading back to New York City tomorrow, after a small cocktail gathering.

The evening had been interesting so far, and Lake had taken quite some interest in the young dancer he had flirted with during the intermission. The feelings were clearly mutual, and Lola followed Howard to the after-hours party at Jules's. There were cocktails to be had, and Jules rolled out the bar cart in front of a small crowd that consisted of Howard, Lola, Burlington Jones and a couple of Moxies who had introduced themselves as Trixie, Roxanne, and... Kunigunda.

Howard and Lola managed to extract themselves from the frivolities downstairs for some private and adult time, and as they closed the bedroom door behind them, Franz Alter took up, post outside the bedroom. After some time, Franz noted a strange sound, or perhaps an absence of sound. He entered the bedroom, only to find Lola fast asleep, and the window open. No Lake. Franz dashed up to the window, and he saw Lake marching down the street at a breakneck pace, heading towards the Miskatonic River. Climbing down the gutter presented little difficulty for Franz Alter, and he managed to alert Jules before pursuing Lake. Burlington Jones was left all alone with Trixie, Roxanne, and Kunigunda.

Lola

Mackie and Felix had already left for Violet's house after the Vaudeville show, and they were greeted by and anxious Violet. They searched the house, and Mackie placed an incantation on Violet's room to alert them if there were any intruders of human - or any other - kind. They had just settled in the living room when they heard a shriek from Violet: "He's here! He's coming for me! Howard!" Mackie took a peek through the window, and she clearly saw Lake marching up the old cobble-stoned street. He was followed by Franz Alter immediately behind him, with Jules Pollack running 50 or so feet behind. They decided to stand by the door to give Lake a proper greeting, whatever that might imply.

Howard was running as fast as he could, his heart thumping in his chest and his muscles aching, and yet it felt like he was running through molasses. The shadowy presence following him was just a pace behind, and no matter how hard Lake exerted himself, he did not gain on the dreadful shadow. It was a shocking and uncouth black thing with smooth, oily, whale-like surfaces, unpleasant horns that curved inward toward each other, bat wings whose beating made no sound, ugly prehensile paws, and a barbed tail that lashed needlessly and disquietingly. And worst of all, it never spoke or laughed, and never smiled because it had no faces at all to smile with, but only a suggestive blankness where a face ought to be. Lake ran in what seemed to be a thick forest, or perhaps a never-ending corridor in a lunatic asylum. The images changed at will, and just as he was about to collapse, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Lake woke up outside his mother's house, trembling and drenched in sweat. Franz Alter had placed his long and narrow hand on his shoulder, and for some reason Mackie and Felix were standing at the door. Lake was more than a little confused.

Howard was in a sad state. He had clearly left J. Pollack Fine Antiques without taking time to get dressed properly: no hat, no shoes or socks, no jacket and no collar with his shirt. He was drenched in sweat, and yet chill to the bone. His wide-eyed gazed clearly indicated that he had little idea of how he he got here. although it was comforting to be at his mother's house. But what if Violet was there? The issue of Violet's eerie stalking was still unresolved, and Howard felt both uneasy and confused. And cold. And miserable!

Mackie, being a caring human being in her own very special way, handed Howard a cigarette from her expensive sterling silver case, without offering him a light. At the same time, Felix picked up a blanket from a stool in the foyer, handing it to the much taller Howard. Franz considered various chemical options, but he had really never seen a case of such extreme somnambulism. Running all the way from J. Pollack Fine Antiques to the Lake House had also left him a bit short of breath, despite being reinforced with his own drugs. Meanwhile, Felix Jeremiah could not help thinking what a stunning photograph it would be if someone shot a picture of him handing a blanket to the frozen needy, a look of grave concern and compassion on his face. It could all be put into good political use in due time.

Musings on a Friday

An exhausting day, plain and simple. To start it off, the troubling visits. First with Howard Lake visiting Franz Alter, and then with his sister Violet visiting Jules Pollack. It was all very strange, and the fellow investigators had to struggle quite a bit just to figure out the correlation and causality of the opposing stories. Bottom line: the Lake family seemed to be facing one or two real problems. Also, while all of this was going on. Dr. Mackenzie MacNamara had another set of visitors, namely Special Agents Smith and Jones, the unspecified Federal Agents who had briefed the investigators about the Soviet Proletkult organization at the Explorer Club in New York. Special Agents Smith and Jones wanted to ask a couple of questions about the MacNamara expedition, and they were not taking no for an answer. Mackie was sent off in what seemed like a paddy wagon, but not before she had placed a call to Moira Baker, urging Moira to join her at the Miskatonic University library. Moira got dressed and rushed to the Arkham Police Department to find out what was afoot, but to no avail. Whatever was going on was federal operation, and the Arkham PD was limited to perimeter security.

The paddy wagon stopped at the Miskatonic University library, just outside the exhibition hall for the MacNamara Expedition. The entrance was guarded by a dozen police officers in full gas protection gear, while the Arkham PD had cordoned off the block. Several loud and agitated members of the university staff, including Dr. Armitage, had gathered outside the cordon. Moira Baker and Burlington Jones had just joined Mackie as the Federal Police entered the building after using what seemed to be a C-Beam detector to scan the building. The agents came out after less than half an hour with the specimen of eggshell from the container for the dreadful Shoggoths that the investigators had encountered in the Mexican wilderness. Following the confiscation of the small piece of eggshell, Moira, Mackie and Burlington were driven to the Arkham Sanitarium, where they were subjected to a series of particularly unpleasant invasive procedures to make sure that they were not smitten by whatever malaise the expedition might have brought back. The federal agents had apparently taken over one of the outlying buildings of the sanitarium, but was that Bogislav Klimnik in charge of the agents at the sanitarium? If it wasn't, then the Feds had a really similar looking agent. The three investigators eventually returned to Jukes Pollack Fine Antiques with the distinct feeling of being violated and in dire need of a stiff drink.

It was now conveniently just before cocktail hour on a Friday, so as the fellow investigators assembled nobody could fail notice Jules Pollack rolling out the well-curated bar cart that belonged to his antiques' dealership. The issue of Lake and his sister was discussed at some length, and it was decided to get Karen to pass an occult verdict on both Violet's house and Lake's apartment. 

The Lake residence.

Jules and Franz had visited Violet's house earlier that afternoon. Violet, her mother, and at times Howard shared a tired-looking house on East Pickman Street. The sad facade did however conceal a very inviting, if older interior, in which the intrepid companions found Violet. Violet was quite distraught due to recent events, and it was decided to let her spend the night at Jules Pollack Fine Antiques. Violet definitely needed the company, and Jules pointed out that it might be wise to keep her under supervision. Karen displayed very little interest in Violet, as she preferred her cage or Mackie's lap.

Following a delicious dinner early dinner cooked by dear Mrs. O'Flaherty as usual, the intrepid investigators decided to split up. Moira Baker was going to have a nice evening chat with Dr. Henrietta Queeg, supposedly on the topic of fashion advice. Earlier that day, Moira had received a rather fancy invitation for her "and friends" to attend the final performance of comedian Victor Ventura at the Myrtington House Vaudeville Show, one of Arkham's few contemporary venues. Arkham had a number of theaters and music venues, but cultural preferences in Arkham tended to veer in a stodgy and conservative direction, so the Myrtington Vaudeville tended to be a popular distraction for the more modern Arkhamites. Moira had noticed that her friend Henrietta had mentioner Victor Ventura on several occasions, and she had definitely praised the comedian. Moira was admittedly a bit curious, and although she would be visiting a friend, she asked Franz Alter to escort her as her chauffeur.

The remaining investigators, in this case Jules and Felix (who had decided to join his fellow investigators for dinner) decided to take a friendly peek into Lake's apartment. The events of the day were really weird, and the would-be burglars were hoping to find some clues as to the behavior of Lake and his sister. Howard Lake was supposedly attending a Friday evening dinner with Dr. Queeg after yet another therapy session, so Jules and Felix hoped to be able to enter and leave without too much fuss. 

The small 19th century building where Lake rented an apartment on the first floor was dark, and Felix entered casually. Howard Lake had invested in some high-quality locks, but the nimble fingers of Felix Jeremiah managed to unlock the door after some tinkering with his set of lock-picking tools. The apartment was clean and well-ordered. There were no strange smells or scents, and Lake seemed to have spent time in the apartment during the week. His toiletries were in place, and there was a whiff of the Lake's preferred cologne lingering in the bathroom. Howard Lake's home office contained a small and neatly ordered desk as well as his considerable private book collection. Felix did note that there was a piece of paper lying to the side of Lake's desk. It was written in Lake's flashy handwriting, and it was a list of strange titles, some of which Felix recognized from whispered conversations between Jules, Mackie and Moira in particular. Cultes des Goules, De Vermiis Mysteriis, and The Seven Cryptical Books of Hsan, Charaka Samhita, El-Mansuri, Die Behandlung der Irren ohne mechanischen Zwang, Über Sprachstörungen im Traume, and Al Azif were all on the list. 

*

It had been a long Friday for Felix Jeremiah. October my ass. He had been out and about during the windy fall day, dodging rain showers and blowing leaves as he biked about Arkham. By now he had a fairly decent sense of the lay of the land, although at times, especially around dusk, it seemed as if he had missed certain alleys and courtyards in the old hoary colonial town. Biking was really not always an option, considering the old cobblestones, but then most of the town was eminently walkable, meaning within walking distance. As Felix came back to Jules Pollack Fine Antiques, he heard that a Dr. Queeg had invited Moira Baker – and friends – to go and see a vaudeville show that, amongst others, starred a certain Victor Ventura. He recognized the name, and after digging through his memory he recalled that a Vincent Ventura used to perform in various off-Broadway shows back in New York. He was a two-bit comedian, trying hard, but really not with a repertoire to make it big. It sort of made sense that this Ventura guy would end up in fucking Arkham, a last hurrah before the end of leaf season closed many of the venues for the winter. Yet, Felix was a bit curious. Had Victor Ventura just resigned, wanting to get some fine cash from a show in Massachusetts while planning a grand comeback in New York? Was Ventura gathering some new material up here in Massachusetts to woo the crowds back in Manhattan? And what was it with Dr. Henrietta Queeg and Victor? Judging from Moira’s descriptions, Dr. Queeg seemed obsessed or at least infatuated by Victor Ventura. What would a celebrity psychotherapist (or whatever she saw herself as) see with a second-rate comedian? Well, then, lust and desire are fantastic things, and Felix had seen enough strange romances to just make him shrug. 

 

Victor Ventura                                             Dr. Henrietta Queeg

Moira came back quite late from meeting with Dr. Henrietta Queeg at Psilander House, Henrietta's lavish mansion on the outskirts of Arkham. It had been a strange evening, with Henrietta shamelessly promoting the nervous sad sack that was Victor Ventura. It seemed a tad strange that Victor Ventura actually might be a comedian, but then, every now and then Moira thought she caught a vague glance of what might be a stage personality: an understated but funny remark, a hint of a wide smile, and an attempt at a lavish gesture.

Henrietta was, of course, quite full of herself, as she tended to be. Her fashion advice was extensive, detailed, and on the verge of exhausting. It was a times almost difficult to remember that the bubbling socialite was, as a matter of fact, a Harvard-educated psychiatrist from a well-respected old Arkham family with one of the first doctorates bestowed upon a female student. Moira also knew that Henrietta was quite knowledgeable in a rather wide array of fields, and she had actually not scoffed at Moira when she treated her and listened to Moira's accounts of strange tales and events, of eldritch beings outside our planes of existence, and of things best forgotten. 

Anyway, Henrietta was definitely a fun friend, but not a close friend, a slice of extravagant pie that reached back to Moira's years in high society, before her husband had ...disappeared. Before the dreams began. Moira shook her head a bit too violently. No. There should not be room for these dark trains of thought. Screw that. Moira instead decided to look forward to the vaudeville show tomorrow. She was actually looking forward to a fun evening out, not like the stuffy opening event for the MacNamara exhibit at the Miskatonic University library a couple of weeks ago. It may even be time for some dancing and general shenanigans.

Psilander House, the mansion of Dr. Henrietta Queeg.

The conversation between Jules Pollack and Violet Lake

Violet Lake comes into Jules's store, and she is looking a bit concerned. She wonders if she might be able to have a private chat with Jules. “Jules, I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I could really use some advice. Now, I know that we really do not know each other that well, but you do know my brother, and that is something I need to talk to you about. You see, me and my brother have always been very close, and we have great fun together. However, he has been acting in a somewhat strange fashion as of late. It started when he was physically well enough to spend some time in my mother’s house on East Pickman Street. It is a fairly large house, as we had some inheritance after father was murdered back in 1914. It is not fancy – mother’s a retired librarian, after all, but spacious. I was up late in the middle of the night writing a book review, and I sensed somebody staring at me. It was Howard, my dear brother, standing behind me in the kitchen and simply staring. He started giggling as I turned around, and turned around right away, rapidly marching to his bedroom, his giggling echoing in the hallway. Next evening, a similar thing happened. I had just been washing up, and when I open the door, he seemed to have been eavesdropping or looking through the keyhole at me. He once again started giggling, a rather unpleasant smile spreading from ear to ear, before retreating to the staircase, where he stopped to stare at me once again. I told him to stop, but he just tippy-toed up the stairs, once again giggling.

A couple of days passed, and mother left the house for Pennsylvania and a book buying tour. I was willing to blame this weird behavior on all the stress he’d been under. Poor Howard had clearly experienced many things that weren’t for the faint of heart. He’s also always been such a good brother, caring and compassionate. Granted, he’s a bit vain, and his lady’s stories are probably too many to mention, but he is a good brother, and I love him. Anyway, around two weeks ago, I had a difficult time falling asleep. I was tossing and turning, and since we we’re heading into fall, I couldn’t initially decide if I was warm or cold. Eventually I really felt a chill, and I went into my armoire, or rather closet, to pull out an extra blanket. To my abject horror, I saw Howard hunched into the closet, just standing there among the coats and shawls hanging in the closet. He looked at me, wide eyed, and started smiling, once again with that joyless, or even mirthful, wide smile of his, before entering my bedroom. I shrieked, and hit Howard with a pillow. “Howard, get out of here! Stop doing this, it is not funny! Leave me alone!”

He carefully backed out of my room, staring at me the entire time, and I closed and locked the door behind him. Yet, I know that he remained on the other side of the door. I thought could make out his breath, or it may just have been my imagination. I also imagined that he would be looking through the keyhole, which I stuffed with a cotton ball, or under the door, so I placed a pillow on my side of the threshold. After this I simple curled up in bed, pulled up the covers, and cried incessantly. What was going on with my dear brother?

Next morning over breakfast, I confronted him. “Howard, what is wrong with you” I asked. “Your pranks are not at the least funny, and frankly, you scare me!” Howard looked up incredulously from his morning paper. “What in the world are you talking about? I have done nothing of the kind. Have you been suffering from bad dreams?” We argued for a long time, but it was clear to me that he either had no recollections of the events I’d experienced, or that my own perception of reality was breaking up. As several more days passed, I could not get away from the feeling that I might find Howard hiding in some odd location that might provide a good vantage point to stare at me. Stare at me, and smile.

Mr. Pollack, what am I to do? Mother is still in Pennsylvania, and I do not feel that I can trust anyone. Please, Mr. Pollack help me, or at least give me some advice on what to do! I am desperate! 

Violet Lake

The conversation between Howard Lake and Franz Alter

It is Friday, October 2, and it is a windy fall day with shrouds of rain-laden clouds racing across the skies. Felix Jeremiah is already out and about, and Alter is enjoying his morning cup of tea in his nice and clean room above Lakeview Books, when there’s a knock on the door. “Franz, it is me, Howard. Do you mind if I come in?”

Howards comes in, removes his coat, and remains standing. After a while, Franz gets the cue, and he asks Howard Lake to sit down. He looks a bit concerned. Franz, I need your advice. Youo seem to be the most stable of my friends here in Arkham, so I am turning to you.”

 “Now, I know that we really do not know each other that well, but you have met my sister, Violet, and that is something I need to talk to you about. You see, me and my sister have always been very close, and we have great fun together. However, she has been acting in a somewhat strange fashion as of late. It started when I was physically well enough to spend some time in my mother’s house on East Pickman Street. It is a fairly large house, as we had some inheritance after father was murdered back in 1914. It is not fancy – mother’s a retired librarian, after all, but spacious. I was up late in the middle of the night writing in my diary, and I sensed somebody staring at me. It was Violet, my dear sister, standing behind me in the kitchen and simply staring. She started giggling as I turned around, and she turned around right away, rapidly marching to her bedroom, her giggling echoing in the hallway. Next evening, a similar thing happened. I had just been washing up, and when I opened the door, she – Violet -seemed to have been eavesdropping or looking through the keyhole at me. She once again started giggling, a rather unpleasant smile spreading from ear to ear, before retreating to the staircase, where she stopped to stare at me once again. I told her to stop, but she just tippy-toed up the stairs, once again giggling.

A couple of days passed, and mother left the house for Pennsylvania and a book buying tour. I was willing to blame this weird behavior on all the stress she’s been under, and quite a few of them as a result of events that have befallen me over the course of the last year. Poor Violet has seen her book store blown up, gunfights on the streets of Arkham, and her brother (me) being stalked by strange machine-men. She’s also always been such a good sister, caring and compassionate. Granted, she’s perhaps not the kind of reveler I am, but she has so many other less ephemeral qualities. She is a good sister, and I love her. Anyway, around two weeks ago, I had a difficult time falling asleep. I was tossing and turning, and since we we’re heading into fall, I couldn’t initially decide if I was warm or cold. Eventually I really felt a chill, and I went into my armoire, or rather closet, to pull out an extra blanket. To my abject horror, I saw Violet hunched into the closet, just standing there among the coats and jackets hanging in the closet. She looked at me, wide eyed, and started smiling, once again with that joyless, or even mirthful, wide smile of hers, before entering my bedroom. I yelled, and pushed her towards the door. “Violet, get out of here! Stop doing this, it is not funny! Leave me alone!”

She carefully backed out of my room, staring at me the entire time, and I closed and locked the door behind her. Yet, I know that she remained on the other side of the door. I thought could make out her breath, or it may just have been my imagination. I also imagined that she would be looking through the keyhole, which I stuffed with a handkerchief, or under the door, so I placed a pillow on my side of the threshold. After this I simple curled up in bed, pulled up the covers, and stared into the darkness in despair. What was going on with my dear sister?

Next morning over breakfast, I confronted her. “Violet, what is wrong with you” I asked. “Your pranks are not at the least funny, and frankly, you scare me!” Violet looked up incredulously from her morning paper. “What in the world are you talking about? I have done nothing of the kind. Have you been suffering from bad dreams again? I know you’ve been under extraordinary amounts of stress as of late.” We argued for a long time, but it was clear to me that she either had no recollections of the events I’d experienced, or that my own perception of reality was breaking up. As several more days passed, I could not get away from the feeling that I might find Violet hiding in some odd location that might provide a good vantage point to stare at me. Stare at me, and smile.

Franz, what am I to do? Mother is still in Pennsylvania, and I do not feel that I can trust anyone. Please, Franz, help me, or at least give me some advice on what to do! I am desperate!

Howard Lake

 

Early October in Arkham

 

The Miskatonic Valley northwest of Arkham

Pollack, Jeremiah, Baker, MacNamara, Alter, and Lake returned to Arkham on the late afternoon of Tuesday, September 13. They were all in need of rest, and in certain cases, recuperation. Fortunately, circumstances allowed for a couple of uneventful weeks, although the intrepid investigators were kept busy.

Jules Pollack was happily still going through boxes of goods brought up to Arkham with the MacNamara Expedition. It was good to back in the store and to sleep in his own bed. Mrs. O'Flaherty was still a gem, and both the store and the living questers were kept in ship-shape. The Mexican and Caribbean items from as far back as the early 1600s were selling like hotcakes, and all seemed good. However, on the morning of Friday, October 2, a beaming Burlington Jones came into Pollack's office. He was carrying a sealed envelope. "Mr. Pollack, I am handing in my resignation, I'm afraid. You are a great employer, and I have really enjoyed my time in Arkham, but it is time to move on. I am moving to Washington to start a position with the Federal Bureau of Investigation." Jules Pollack was flabbergasted. "But, my boy, what shall I do? I do, of course wish you the best of luck, but you will be sorely missed."

Felix Jeremiah had also made some profit from the MacNamara Expedition, mainly by taking percentages of some of the deals he helped haggle for Pollack. He and Alter were renting a room each above Lakeview Books, and there was plenty to do, including some odd jobs as a bicycle messenger and general busybody.  Edgar was recovering from the excursion to Rochester, and it was better for him to have the apartment to himself for a bit. Arkham was incredibly quaint to the urbanite Jeremiah, but boy, there seemed to be some weird stories going around, and quite a few of them centered around MacNamara and Pollack in particular.

Franz Alter was debating. He had two alternatives for his future pharmacy. One being the former Blackwood's on West Armitage Street, just across from Richard's Bakery, provided a central location, but the space was just a bit smaller than he had envisioned. The ceiling height was amazing, though.

The other location was on West Hight Street, across from the Uptown Park. It was a bit off the beaten path, although the storefront was nice. The plumbing was, however, sub-par. Decisions, decisions...

Howard Lake had been left in the caring hands of his mother Melissa. Howard's sister, Violet, set up a schedule with Dr. Henrietta Queeg. Queeg, who had previously treated, amongst others, Moira Baker, assured Mrs. and Ms. Lake that he would be well taken care of, and after a couple of weeks he seemed to be on the mend.

Violet Lake

Moira Baker realized that she was back in Arkham just as the Fall semester started. She spent some time together with Mackie and at the registrar's office, but she was uncertain what courses to take. Actually, she even had the option to enter a M.D. program at the Miskatonic University Medical School, but also had enough acumen to get her accepted into most programs, with the exception of the Miskatonic School of Economics.

Mackie MacNamara enjoyed working from her home office while Karen spent time in her small coop. There was still quite a bit of follow-up work from the MacNamara Expedition, and she gave interviews to several journalists from all over the country. On Friday, October 2, Fall really seemed to be starting in earnest. The doorbell rang at exactly 9 a.m., and although Mackie wasn't expecting any visitors, she decided to open the door nevertheless, something she wasn't necessarily in the habit of doing. She was quite surprised to see Special Agents Smith and Jones on her front porch. "Dr. MacNamara, we have some questions."

  

Driving back from Rochester

“Why do we always end up in these wretched situations?” Jules Pollack broke the silence as he spoke to his friends in the crowded car heading down from Rochester and the Blackwood cabin. They were all worse for wear, with injuries mixing with dirt and grime from their ordeal in the old cellar. Lake was sleeping, having been sedated by Franz Alter after Moira Baker tended to his wounds. Mackie MacNamara was awake, but in no pain despite her arms being doused with lye through the misguided efforts of Franz Alter. Short sleeves would really not be an option in the future. The mysterious ring that was found in the cellar was now on Howard Lake’s right ring finger, and that had made whatever horror they had been facing disappear. So, Lake’s mother’s family had some 18^th century forefather that bound malign forces to cabins in New York State? Jeez…   

Jules Pollack continued, despite the deafening silence in the car. “Ok, let us get back to that lawyer, Joseph Klein, provide him with the evidence that Howard’s uncle Arthur Blackwood didn’t kill his wife, bid our adieus, clean up at the Waldorf, and then take a nice train trip back to Arkham and one of Mrs. O’Flaherty’s legendary dinners? Let's have Klein deal with Harvey Dent, that NYC prosecutor who was after ole' uncle Arthur.” Moira nodded slowly, while Felix just shrugged. Franz Alter was looking out through the window, and he was methodically reviewing some of the spots he had reconnoitered for a pharmacy. His mother would be ok, he told himself. After all, she had the cat.

Joseph Klein

Karen had finally calmed down, and Mackie was leaning over the cage. She would worry about her job and her future later, after a nap. The MacNamara Expedition was still weighing her down, and she kept on going over what could have been done differently over and over again. Perhaps she’d just devote her remaining career to quiet research and publishing before… she was out as a light before she could complete her thoughts.

The Blackwood cabin

Jules Pollack looked at the dormant figure of Howard Lake through the rearview mirror. He remembered the dashing young antiquarian that he had met on the train to Los Angeles, where he was to purchase a book for his bookstore, Lakeview Books. The original store had been destroyed by that automaton that had chased Howard Lake due to something that might take place in the future, in 1929. Fortunately, Lake’s mother, Melissa, and sister, Violet, were not in the store when it blew up, and a new Lakeview Books had since opened. Lake really didn’t look all that dashing now, but Jules hoped that perhaps the psychiatric skills of Dr. Henrietta Queeg might help him get a grip and return to a semblance of normality. Funny, though, this entire story about Mrs. Lake’s brother Arthur and their heritage…  

The cellar below the Blackwood cabin

Tentacles in the cellar