The train ride from Boston with a change to the bus in Beverly had given her much-needed idle time to catch up on her reading. She had imagined when she graduated from medical school that her education was over, but no. A constant stream of medical journals, monographs, and textbook manuscripts arrived in her mailbox and she felt she had to keep up with the ones that were not just silly or rehashing studies everyone already understood to be flawed. She carried a half dozen of the most pressing items in her case and plowed through them with determination, sparing barely a glance at the countryside outside her carriage window as it changed from grimy city to sparse countryside with stubble-coated fields and the bare branches of trees reaching to the pale sky.

In Kingsport, she shivered as the wind seemed to find its way inside her winter coat and wished she had worn her gloves. When the young secretary at the offices of Declan Brooks offered her a cup of coffee she accepted it gratefully and held the cup for a few minutes just to allow the warmth to penetrate her fingers. She took the moment to survey the others.

A tall drink of water smoking a cigarette in a holder looked very chic and modern while a slightly older fellow (was he older or was it the cane that gave that appearance?) proffered a match to light the woman's cigarette, and then puffed his own briar into stinky life. Why do so many people smoke, she wondered. The literature is quite clear. Heart disease and cancer await even the most casual user.

As the two introduced themselves, she realized that she was not that late. And she stepped forward to present her own credentials.

"Huffnel," she offered her hand to the woman and then the man. "Margaret Huffnel. I'm a research physician at Boston Women's. Do either of you know what this is about? Young Espersen here has been very close-mouthed on the telephone, simply insisting that the journey would be worthwhile.

"Luckily my rotation has come around and I have some time to myself. Thought I might catch some sea air. Though I must say, the town is rather more dismal than I had hoped for a seaside resort. Even in the autumn."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:47, Wed 10 Apr.

Kate smiles as she clasps Maggie's hand. "Dr. Hufnell, a pleasure. The programs at Boston Women's are most exciting." She gestures vaguely with her cigarette holder. "It was my first choice after graduating from nursing school, but filial obligations required I return to my native Kingsport and take a post at Congregational Hospital."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:46, Thu 11 Apr.

A massive Rolls-Royce Phantom stops in front of Mr. Brooks' office. A uniformed chauffeur  hastens to open the passenger door. From inside comes a childish voice:

"But Mama, I want to...!"
"Oh, it will be quite boring, I promise, just grown-up matters, no kids, no toys, all blah blah. You're better off, believe me."

A woman in a spectacular full-lenght coat of Russian sable fur descends from the car, followed by a girl of three or four years old, holding a teddy bear in a tight embrace. Behind them, two more women follow: a severe-looking matron, and a fashionable younger woman.

"But Mama..."

The lady in furs stoops to plant a kiss in the cheek of the little girl.

"Behave, Greta. Maggie, give her a tour of the town or something."
"Certainly, ma'am," says the nanny in a most British accent. "Come, young miss, let us go."

Dragged along by the nanny, Greta leaves reluctantly, while the lady heads for the entrance, followed a step behind by the fourth woman.

Those who read the local papers, or any papers, might recognize Caprice Delaney, who made headlines marrying the multimillionaire New England tycoon Percival Delaney six years ago, and again last year when she was widowed.

She stops by the assistant and just stands there. Her maid hastens to take off the fur coat and hand it to the man. Under the coat, she's wearing a slinky Schiaparelli dress in black silk. She's on the petite side, but with a dancer's legs. Perhaps a tad too pale under the heavy make-up. Without the coat weighting them down, the pearls in her long necklace rattle with every step.

"I'll have a coffee. Well well, if it isn't quite the shindig," she says in a New York drawl. "Ladies, gent. I hope this ain't a queue to see Mr. Brooks, or I'll be here til Coolidge grows a beard. How do you do?"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:17, Wed 10 Apr.

Kate openly admires Caprice's form, perhaps lingering more than is decorous. "Good morning, Mrs. Delaney," she cordially replies. "You may not recall me, but I was your late husband's hospice nurse. Katherine Pearce. My deepest condolences for your loss." She gestures with her cigarette holder. "I imagine any queue, if one exists, is likely by appointment time. My own is slated for ten o'clock, according to the letter I received. I cannot attest to Dr. Hufnell's or Mr. Wilkinson's respective times, however."

While he was watching these proceedings idly, simply introducing himself when asked, his eyes did widen when the appointment time was mentioned. "Why, unless Mr. Brooks has the power of omnipresence, I do believe that would be a group appointment then, as I am at ten'o clock as well. How peculiar; how queer. But at the very least, no queue is expected, Mrs. Delaney, so on that front we are covered". He smiled at her warmly, his pipe hanging unceremoniously from the corner of his mouth.

He discreetly took another look at the other members of the strange company that had gathered waiting for Mr. Brooks. Without realizing, he had taken out his silver pocketwatch to double-check the time; while he was always fashionably early, he hoped they wouldn't have to wait longer, as for the first time in a long while, his curiosity was piqued.

Caprice's nose wrinkles for a second, then relaxes.

Caprice Delaney rolled 55 using 1d100.  Idea 70%

"Of course, of course. Kathy, isn't it? Thank you," she says in the same drawl, but with an edge of sorrow to it now. Her eyes search for Brooks' assistant. "On second thoughts, boy. Be a darlin' an' get me something a little stronger than coffee in that coffee cup, if you get my drift, yeah?"

She fishes in her bag for a cigarette holder of her own, a number in carved African ivory. The maid lights her cigarette solicitously. Caprice takes a deep drag before she speaks again, words laced with smoke.

"I don't particularly like to be out of bed at this ungodly hour. It better be interesting, otherwise it should be my lawyers dealing with whatever it is," she tells the ceiling, then she looks at Wilkinson and the other woman.

"Very queer indeed. I don't think we've been introduced, but if we have any business together, that's a matter for my general manager, Mr. Finkel. "

Maggie sips her coffee and observes the grand entrance. The young woman is attractive and obviously very wealthy. She vaguely recognizes the name, but she has little time for the social column of the newspaper and she is well away from her own family connections.

The nurse piques her interest when she mentions that she works in hospice care. It takes a dedicated professional to help ease the passage from life to death day after day.

The gentleman has a roundabout way of expressing himself, but he seems well-accoutered -- if only he'd put away that horrible pipe, he might actually be attractive.

The coffee is passable and it has warmed her up enough to not feel chilled as she introduced herself to the newcomer.

"How do you do, Mrs. Delaney, I am Maggie Huffnel -- Dr. Huffnel. I gather we are all here for the same meeting, but none of us knows the purpose -- unless you do. It's all quite mysterious."

She places her empty cup on the tea tray and moves away from the smoking in the room.

An office door opens and a tall, clean shaven man dressed in a finely tailored navy business suit emerges. His hair, once dark, is now liberally streaked with gray. He wears eyeglasses, his blue eyes possessed of a gaze that suggests someone who is perceptive and  blessed with a keen intelligence.

”Good morning. I appreciate each you coming today, especially under such unusual circumstances,” he says, smiling warmly, ”I am Declan Brooks.” He shakes the hand of each of his visitors.

”I think we will be most comfortable in the conference room. Please follow me. If anyone would like another cup of coffee, just let Carl know.” He looks to his assistant. ”No calls,” he tells him.

A few watercolor landscapes, featuring forests and rivers, hang on the walls of the conference room, most of the space taken up by a long, polished oak table and several high backed chairs. At the head of the table, where Brooks takes a seat, is a closed manila file folder.

”I hope that no one had difficulty locating the office. Kingsport’s streets are a bit notorious for being confusing to newcomers. Please allow me to apologize for being so cryptic with regard to my request for your attendance. I assure you, there is nothing underhanded going on. It is just imperative that I be somewhat careful with the information I need to share.”

He sighs, frowning. ”I asked each of you here to request your help. Help with a disturbing matter that has most of us here in Kingsport at a loss. It has also caused a considerable amount of fear among the residents here, although most only have a vague idea of the facts involved.”

“On October 20th, a forty two year old bricklayer who is, by all accounts, in perfect health, was suddenly struck blind. He was out fishing at the time and required the help of some men in another nearby boat to safely reach shore. The case was…odd, simply because his physicians were unable to discern the cause of his abrupt loss of vision, finally having to simply attribute it to some medical outlier, perhaps a forgotten defect from the gentleman’s family line.”

“However, five days later, a thirty five year old carpenter suffered the precise same affliction in the middle of his workday. No preceding symptoms of any kind.”

“Since then, two more men have suffered the same fate. An eighteen year old freshman at Miskatonic University who was home to see his family and a fifty one year old loan officer at the First Marine Bank here. All four of the men’s blindness has persisted since it came on, with no improvement in their condition.”

Brooks drums his finger on the table. ”Dr. Matthew Harris, the Chief of Staff at Congregational Hospital, a doctor I’m sure you are acquainted with Miss Pearce, has treated each of these men, but he has sought to be careful about sharing information regarding their condition. Despite his caution, word has spread to some residents of a mysterious illness in Kingsport and many in our city have grown fearful.”

“Dr. Harris, and the other physicians who have consulted on the men’s cases, have been unable to arrive at an explanation for it. Naturally, the first concern was that this was brought on by some kind of infection, but with the assistance of the police, it has been firmly established that none of these men knew one another, nor had they spent any time together.”

The attorney removes his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. ”So we are left with a great, and I daresay, frightening conundrum. As I am certain you can imagine, there is a great deal of ongoing concern regarding who might next be afflicted.”

He spreads his hands. ”And that is why I have asked for your help.

“Dr. Hufnell, you are an esteemed medical researcher. You have achieved great success in a profession that has not always welcomed you and have provided answers to questions that have baffled other doctors for decades.”

“Miss Pearce, you are the most highly regarded nurse at Congregational Hospital. Dr. Harris has told me that your perceptiveness has led to solutions for patients which escaped all of their treating physicians.”

“Mrs. Delaney, you have an uncommonly strong concern for the people of our community and those in Arkham. You have not simply expressed your concerns about some of the glaring deficits in our city, you have taken action to right them, and devoted considerable wealth to make those solutions a reality.”

“Dr. Wilkinson, the faculty at Miskatonic University uniformly agree that you are one of the most gifted historians to ever join their ranks. There are many of us here who have conjectured that this may not be the first time events such as these have occurred in Kingsport. If that is true, you are the kind of talented researcher who could uncover that information.”

Replacing his glasses, he says, ”The city, along with several concerned donors, have authorized me to offer you ample financial compensation for your assistance.”

“I am certain that you have questions.”
This message was last edited by the player at 02:08, Fri 12 Apr.

Kate musingly rattles the tip of her cigarette holder between her teeth. "We must begin by assessing what the patients have in common apart from their condition," she remarks. "All are adult males under the age of fifty-five, for example. There shall doubtless be others unless these cases prove wholly unrelated to one another."

"What’s in the envelope, Mr. Brooks?" asks Maggie Huffnel.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:21, Fri 12 Apr.

In quiet surprise, William absorbed all the information presented to him, genuine curiosity evident in his features, tinged only by an additional note of worry when the young freshman was mentioned. He made a mental note to find out if it was one of his students.

His pipe had grown cold, whether that was from listening intently and absent-mindedly or out of courtesy to their host. "Your kind words flatter me. I do assume that what my colleagues failed to mention was that I am more academically expendable than their esteemed personages; but it matters little. The life of an assistant professor is dreary as it is, so I will pounce at any opportunity to escape it. You have me hooked, Mr. Brooks, hook, line and sinker and the entire rod and the fisherman as well."

He let that sink in for a moment before continuing, "I am sure the present company will uncover any pattern regarding the affliction that I can merely guess at, so I will perform a flèche at my own foe; you mentioned research, and documents. Would there be something available here in Kingsport as a font of knowledge, or am I to travel back to the university and trudge along ill-maintained files and newspaper clippings?"

Caprice seems to perk up at Hufnell's words. Her perfectly painted lips curl in a bit of a smile.

"Oh, a lady doctor? How swell! I salute you. America needs more women in medicine, in business, more women everywhere! I do my bit, but I can't be everywhere at once. Don't you agree, Huffie? You don't mind me calling you that, do you? Maggie is already taken, that's my nanny and she would be, quote, 'bloody miffed', you know how Brits are. Or you don't. Oh, here we go," she says in one go, seeing the door to the office open and going in first, with an elegance of movement that makes it look like she isn't barging ahead of everyone when she brushes past the man with the cane.

She takes a seat, crosses her silk-stockinged legs and sits back, blowing more smoke towards the ceiling. With that smoking wand she waves away the lawyer's lengthy intro. There's a definite frown on her pretty face now.

"So what you're telling me, Mr. Brooks, is that you made me come to Kingsport knowing that there is some unknown blinding illness rampaging through the town, and witholding that information. Let me be frank: that is extremely irresponsible of you! I brought my daughter along, which I wouldn't have had I known. If I should fall ill, or God forbid, my daughter should, you will have a very unpleasant conversation with my lawyers, Mr. Brooks. There is nothing you have said that couldn't have been a telegram or telephone call."

She blows more smoke, this time directly at Brooks.

"Is there any reason why I should keep risking my eyesight here, Mr. Brooks? Because if there is not, I am outta here, as we say in New York."

”A sound strategy, Miss Keane,” Brooks says, ”This was our hope in reaching out to individuals such as yourselves: that you might discern key information that the rest of us had been unable to perceive. Each of the individuals who have fallen victim to this ailment have expressed a willingness to cooperate in full with any efforts to uncover the cause of their condition. All are open to being interviewed.”

“The file, Dr. Hufnell,” he says, sliding it toward her, ”contains all of the demographic and other information the city and the hospital have been able to gather on each of the victims. Two of them are still undergoing treatment at Congregational Hospital. The other two have returned home. That information is by no means exhaustive, but perhaps it will provide an adequate foundation for your inquiries.”

Brooks smiles. ”I can easily recall my days as a clerk when I had just completed law school, Dr. Wilkinson. I fear I understand all too well what you speak of. With regard to historical resources, be assured that what we have here in Kingsport will be at your disposal. The public library was founded relatively soon after Kingsport’s founding and has a number of historical volumes about this area that could prove useful. The City Clerk’s office also has records that reach back into the early days of the city’s history. The Kingsport Historical Society Museum will also be of interest. Its members have dedicated themselves to preserving as much of Kingsport’s past as they are able.”

He pauses. ”Leticia Comstock, the librarian at the public library, can be a bit…stern in her demeanor. Nevertheless, she is quite knowledgeable of the library’s holdings.”

He smiles politely. ”As I have previously mentioned, Mrs. Delaney, despite public concern to the contrary, there does not seem to be a great deal of evidence to suggest this condition is some manner of infectious disease.”

“I and the other city leaders believed that seeking the help of someone with your considerable acumen would be of great value in the effort to resolve this mystery. Nonetheless, I recognize that some in your position prefer to pursue their altruism strictly through financial means, as opposed to any direct involvement. Our estimation of you may have been in error, and for that, you have my apologies.”

“However, my concern is in addressing the problem at hand and by doing so, potentially alleviating further suffering. You are most certainly free to go, Mrs. Delaney. If you wish to pursue legal action against myself or the city, please speak with Carl on your way out. He can ensure that you have this address and that of the city where your attorneys may direct any applicable correspondence.”

“Good day, Madam.”

"Then, why waste time? While I do not particularly interest myself in financial matters, I would not say not to a generous contribution to research materials; a shame to let such a fund sit idle when it was clearly gathered with such care. I have an inkling we will need it after all."

He got up first, as if a fire was lit under him- it was clear his interest was piqued, and he couldn't pass up the chance to get his hands on new rare books that probably only in this obscure corner of Massachusetts. "Carpe Diem, my good dear Mr. Brooks; I intend to pay Miss Comstock- or is it Mrs.? - a visit immediately to ascertain the usefulness of the aforementioned documents. Should I know something else before adjourning, and do we have another meeting set in the near future to detail our progress?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:05, Fri 12 Apr.

Caprice shakes her head, making her black ringlets dance.

"No. No evidence for contagion doesn't make evidence for non-contagion. For a lawyer, you are very loose with your arguments, Brooks. And you haven't addressed my point that you could, and should, have informed me about the nature of the emergency before you made me come all the way from Arkham. It's not a secret now, and it's serious. And more to the point, I'm not some flunkie you can beckon and dismiss like that. I suggest you stop taking my support, financial or otherwise, for granted."

Another column of smoke towards the man behind the desk. The case is interesting enough on its own, or at least as interesting as anything can get in Kingsport in the off season, but the arrogance of the lawyer is outrageous. Make her come running like that, keeping her purposefully in the dark on a potentially dangerous matter like that, and now give her some sass on top of that? Who the hell does the think he is, this small-town shyster?

If this was good old New York...

"Thérèse, have Jonathan drive Greta and Maggie back to Arkham, then pick my travel trunk and bring it to Kinsport. I want the little one out of this. I'm gonna look into this, in spite of you, shyster. But the village elders sure should look for a better spokesman."

She gets up majestically, while her maid goes fetch her daughter.

"I haven't visited the Museum yet. Might be a good place to start."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:04, Fri 12 Apr.

"I think Doctor Huffnell will be just fine, thank you, Mrs. Delaney," replies Maggie with a definite coolness in her tone. Huffie?!!! Perish the thought.

Turning back to their host, she asks when she might be able to examine the patients.

"I'm sure the physicians they have seen have done an excellent job," she notes, "but you are asking specifically for a new set of eyes and ideas. The case sounds interesting. If you can provide room and board while I investigate, I am quite willing to pitch in."

That it would not hurt her reputation if she could find a new disease as well, she does not mention. It seems . . . beside the point.

She looks over at Kate Pearce, the highly recommended nurse, and catches her eye.

"Will you act as my aide-de-camp, Miss Pearce? Or is it Mrs?"

Kate nods once to Maggie. "I would be happy to, Doctor. And it is Miss. I go by Kate, informally."

”All of the patients have expressed a willingness to cooperate with additional inquiries. Mr. McDonald, the first individual to lose his sight, was resistant to the idea at first, but I believe that his wife has encouraged him to provide any information that he can,” Brooks explains, ”Dr. Harris is also open to sharing everything that he has observed and concluded. As well, our Chief of Police, Tristram Crane, has pledged any assistance you might require.”

“We will, of course, provide accommodations for you, Dr. Hufnell. And for you as well, Dr. Wilkinson. We have secured rooms for you at the Harbor Place Hotel on Turner Street.”

Brooks smiles. ”I can assure you that Mrs. Comstock will provide you with any assistance you need, Dr. Wilkinson. I would imagine you have worked with far more temperamental individuals during the course of your education. I will forewarn you, however, that she is quite rigid with regard to the library’s opening and closing times. The doors shut at 5 p.m. every weekday, without fail.”

If Brooks is bothered by Mrs. Delaney’s assessment of him, he gives no indication. When she mentions visiting the museum, he says, ”I’m afraid the museum is closed today. It is only open three days a week: Monday, Tuesday, and Friday. Part of that is owing to the fact that there are not many visits there, especially in the Fall and Winter, and also because the curator, Aaron Hart, is quite elderly. Eighty-two to be precise. He is quite friendly and happy to help anyone who is interested in the history of Kingsport, but he is growing forgetful. If you visit more than once, it’s likely he won’t recall who you are.”

“For what it is worth, myself and the city leaders are extremely grateful for your help. Any light which you can shed on this strange predicament would be enormously appreciated.”

Kate professionally skims the patient briefs before making recommendations to Maggie. "While we are closest to Mr. Placard's home, I suggest we start with Congregational Hospital," she remarks. "Two of our four patients are currently admitted there, and any medical staff and records will be close at hand ."

"Marvelous! So I still have time to visit the library, and we can visit the museum all together when Mr. Hart is available. So, without further ado, I shall brave the perils of the library and its fervent guardian, to see what spoils of knowledge I can recover. Ladies, Doctor, Mr. Brooks- if you will have need of me, you shall find me buried in books in the library until five o'clock sharp. You are all more than welcome to accompany me or find me there later, by all means."

On his way out, he retrieved his accoutrements and asked Carl for directions, taking the shortest route available as he was brimming with excitement. Were one of the ladies to accompany him, he would wait and accommodate their speed, otherwise he'd hurry there, his cane in his hand instead of clacking leisurely at a strolling pace.

"Excellent, Miss Pearce, I think you and I shall work well together."

She has also been perusing the case histories and has sketched out a quick calendar circling dates.

"I believe you said, Mr. Brooks, that the bricklayer was struck blind on October 20?"

After a moment of looking at the circles around the dates, she asks again.

"Might we have a good-sized map of the town as well? I would like to correlate all the details we can. Temporal and spatial. And how about the weather on each of these dates? Perhaps the newspaper will be useful there.

"Doctor Wilkinson, might we prevail on you to bring the newspapers for these dates back to . . ."

She looks again at Brooks.

"Shall we use your offices as our headquarters, or would there be better accommodations at the Harbor Place Hotel? A large table to spread out maps, newspapers, and the like and perhaps a bulletin board to mount clue evidence on?" she muses.

Kate turns her gaze to Mr. Brooks. "The George Washington Suite at the Harbor Place Hotel has a parlor in addition to its bed- and bathrooms," she reminds him. "That might suit our needs, and the hotel is somewhat more centrally located. It being the off-season, I imagine the suite is unoccupied." Kate observes to Maggie. "There are also empty offices and store fronts that are available to rent near the hotel which may afford us more space."

Caprice isn't looking at the lawyer any more.

She watches the excitable professor leave with an ironic smile, and takes another drag from her cigarrette. Well, here's a swell mystery, like in the movies. What do the victims have in common? All men, two white-collar, two blue-collar; all local, so it could be something in the blood?

"Huffie, dear, does it say, where were they when it happened?" she says, taking another puff and playing with her pearls. "Placard, where was he waiting for that bus? And where was Forrester during his lunch break?"

”I will see if can reserve the suite for your use, Miss Pearce,” Brooks tells her, ”You are correct. It is rarely reserved during the colder months.”

He departs for his office.

Carl returns to the small group a short time later. ”Your reservation at the Harbor Place Hotel has been changed to the George Washington Suite, Dr. Hufnell.”

“Victor Callaghan, a local builder who Mr. Brooks has assisted on legal matters, owns a building a block away from the hotel. His offices are on the ground floor. One of the offices on the second floor is vacant, but furnished. He said you are welcome to make use of it during your time in Kingsport.”