Call of Cthulhu: The King of Chicago

[Steilos]

John sat with his head bpropped up on the wall in the waiting room as the woman came in, reasoning that the last thing he needed was to cause a scene. Keep calm, ignore everything, blend i-

He blinked once or twice as the news sank in. Sullivan was dead, and with it their lead. Hell, screw that - with the death of Sullivan there was no more CASE. He had the info, he had the breakthrough, and more importantly he knew who they were supposed to go after. He had to all intents and purposes taken that knowledge to the grave, and it was as much the recognition of a wasted journey as well as the loss of an acquaintance that caused him to mutter a short prayer under his breath and bow his head in respect of the dead.

Still though, what now? If they were lucky the gangsters who bombed the place wouldn't have connected the dots - John had no intent of dying over the work of a dead acquaintance, even if the man had family and friends that wanted answers. With no answers for now, John inclined his head to the others almost as if to say 'we still have a job to do.'

[Xsesiv]

The good doctor clears his throat uncomfortably. "I understand that this might not be the best time, but we can't find a next of kin, and since this young lady is – indisposed – might I impose so far as to ask one of you gentlemen to identify the body?"

He has a point; the young woman's worked herself up into a frightful state. Quite obviously, she knew Sullivan well if she's this upset.

[JaaSwb]

Lowry stands up abruptly when he hears the news. He has no right to be surprised, but the loss of his old friend still comes as a blow. Could it really be so? Couldn't there have been some mixup? Stupid, getting your hopes up with thoughts like that. He's dead, and the sooner you accept that the better.

"I'll come with you, if that's alright," Lowry says, looking at the others. As he leaves with the doctor, he tries to signal to those that stay behind to take care of the distressed woman.

[Xsesiv]

"I'm sorry about your friend," says Dr. Marshall, holding the door open for Dr. Lowry. "We did all we could for him, but it just wasn't enough. If it's any consolation, my guess is that he died of asphyxiation. I can think of worse ways to go."

As he talks, he moves through the hospital, ending up in the morgue, where the walls are lined with lockers. In the middle of the room, a couple of bodies are laid out on trolleys, respectfully covered with sheets. "Alright, I just need you to positively identify the body and countersign the death certificate," says Dr. Marshall, still looking rather uncomfortable. He picks up the certificate and a pen from a desk, then moves over to one of the trolleys and removes the sheet from the top part of the body, revealing the face and bare chest of a middle-aged man.

"Well, is this Jack Sullivan?" asks Dr. Marshall.

The build, the blue eyes and the chiselled features are easily recognisable as Sullivan's, and yes, this body once was or once contained Jack Sullivan, however you want to look at it.

_______

Back in the waiting room, the young lady doesn't appear to be recovering from her shock on her own. She is still sobbing quietly, her knees drawn in.

[JaaSwb]

"Much worse," Lowry says, sighing. It's a small comfort. "I've been in your position far too often."

When the sheet is drawn back, there is no mistake about it. "That's our Jack alright." Lowry looks at Sullivan. At least he wasn't burned to death. I'm not sure I could have faced seeing him like that, he thinks, and crosses himself.

When asked to sign the death certificate, Lowry pauses. "Jack was conducting an investigation involving... certain people. Was the cause of death determined by autopsy?"

[Xsesiv]

"Not yet, I'm just offering an educated guess at this point," says the doctor. "There is going to be an autopsy to find out the precise cause of death, because our Mr. Sullivan suffered some fairly nasty nicks and burns in the fire and so we can't be sure."

The doctor pulls back the sheet a bit more, revealing a large number of cuts and irregularly-shaped burns. "As for the cause of the fire itself, it looks like these were caused by bits of flying debris. Evidence of an explosion. I know what you're thinking, but it's a matter best left to the police."

[JaaSwb]

Lowry freezes. "You were going to complete a certificate of death in a reportable case without involving the coroner? I understand you don't want to get involved, but this..." He takes the certificate from the table and pockets it. "This is going to cost you your license unless you report the death this instant, in my presence." He stands closer to Marshall, extending to his full six foot two. "There is going to be an autopsy, you will request that I be allowed to attend it, and I will receive the full autopsy report. Then maybe we can make this go away."

[Xsesiv]

The doctor sighs. "If you insist, I can ask that you be present during the autopsy. It's scheduled for 2:30 pm tomorrow. If you'll just look at the certificate, however, you'll notice it's not been filled in. The death's been reported to the coroner, and if you want me to take you to him to confirm it, I'm happy to do so. I just wanted you here for a positive identification."

[JaaSwb]

"And to sign as informant a certificate of death that is incomplete, that you cannot issue in the first place, but nonetheless has your name and signature on it. I apologize for jumping to conclusions, but this is utterly improper. Is there a telephone somewhere I can use?"

[Xsesiv]

"There's a telephone at each of the reception desks. If you'd rather we did this through totally official channels, we can do that, sir, but the way I saw it, without meaning disrespect, is that there's no harm in cutting corners if it's not going to make a difference either way."

[JaaSwb]

"It's useful to play by the rules, if only to avoid just this kind of misunderstanding." Lowry relaxes. You're one to talk, Oscar.

"If you don't have a form for the purpose, I'll write up a note certifying that I was shown the body and recognized it as Jack Sullivan's," he says, taking out his pen. "You have to understand, Mr. Sullivan was a dear friend of mine. His death comes as a great shock to many."

[Xsesiv]

The doctor nods. "I agree, and I apologise. I suppose it's a little insensitive," he says, shuffling the papers till he finds a form and handing it over to Lowry, "but when unnatural deaths start to feel natural, you try to blow through the entire sordid business as fast as you can."

"I'm sure your friend will be missed, sir," he offers.

[CockroachTeaParty]

While waiting for Dr. Lowry, Clive sits with the rest of the guys, uncomfortably shifting his feet with his hands in his pockets. He was never any good with dames... especially distraught, beautiful ones in a time of crisis. She was probably Sullivan's main squeeze... or maybe his daughter? This was why he preferred cars: the make and model were right there, in black and white.

With nobody else stepping up to console her, he licks his lips and extends a hand toward the woman, retracting it almost immediately.
"Uh... 'scuse me, miss? We... that is to say, us fellows here, well... we're acquaintances of ol'Jack. Acquaintances, and friends, some of us. Well, um... if you need anything, you just let us know, okay?"

Spoiler

Show

Clive has no idea what he's doing! But here's a psychology roll anyway, at a whopping 5: (1d100)[83]

[ocel]

Abashed for emotionally distancing himself from those around him out of apprehension. Niel cautiously offers a clean handkerchief to the young woman as a nonthreatening gesture of compassion for her loss. Whether she'll accept it or not, Niel will turn his head to John with a, I]'This is neither the time nor the place to discuss business,'[/I] look. Afterwards he'll resign from speaking or gesturing anything of importance lest he risk sounding or looking obtuse in front of their client's former acquaintance.

[Xsesiv]

The woman takes the handkerchief, but doesn't even bother to bring it to her face as she continues to sob. "Jack said he was going to – to call in some friends," she moans. "He said he was onto something big, but he wouldn't say what. He usually – confided in me."

All semblance of words are lost in the next sobbing fit, this time into the handkerchief. "And now it's got him..." She can't seem to bring herself to say the last word.

[JaaSwb]

Before returning to the others, Lowry heads back to the reception desk to ask for the number of the coroner's office. "Hello, Dr. Oscar Lowry speaking. I'm calling to make sure my colleague Dr. Marshall remembered to report the death of a Mr. Jack Sullivan this morning. You know how forgetful gets at times."

[Xsesiv]

"One moment, doctor," says a monotone woman's voice from the other end of the phone.

Surprisingly, she really does only take a moment. "Yes, doctor," drones the woman. "Mr. Sullivan was admitted to the hospital emergency room shortly after 4 o'clock this afternoon and pronounced dead about three-quarters of an hour later. Dr. Marshall suspects asphyxiation due to smoke inhalation as a cause of death, but there's to be an autopsy tomorrow."

[ocel]

When Niel's generosity failed to consul her out of mourning he turned towards his coworkers for aid in this endeavor. Whether their able to help him or not, shan't prove itself a problem that Lowry couldn't remedy in the indeterminable future. Even should that fail as well, there were better things he could distract her with until inspiration struck him with an answer.

[JaaSwb]

When Lowry returns to the others he confirms Sullivan's death in the same tone of voice he has used so very often. He sits with the grieving woman, gives a few sympathetic words, and ends with an offer to drive her home. It's all strangely comforting, going through these familiar motions.

[Xsesiv]

"Thank you," says the woman at the offer of a lift. She is still obviously very upset but seems to have pulled herself together somewhat. "I had to get a cab here. I was out running an errand for Jack, and when I came back the office was burnt down."

[ocel]

Paying mind not to bump into anyone, Niel helps himself and their former client's acquaintance off the floor before leading her out the hospital's waiting room. Being sure to open the door and help her enter Lowery's automotive. While driving her back home, Niel looks over his shoulder every now and then in case those responsible for Jack's death were pursuing them as well.

[CockroachTeaParty]

Clive continues to hold his hat, threading it through his grip like a strand of prayer beads.
"So, Doc, if you're driving the lady home, what should we do? Find a place to hole up? Some kinda hotel or somethin'?"

[Xsesiv]

"I live on a boarding house on Armitage Street, between Fremont and Bissell," says the woman, allowing herself to be helped up. "Helen Mussida's my name. If you're looking for a hotel, I can recommend a few. I have to know that sort of thing for my work."

She sniffles briefly. "If you're hanging around because you're still interested in that Lanzetti case, we can try to clear it up if you come and visit me tomorrow. I don't really feel ready for it at the moment."

[JaaSwb]

"We wouldn't want to rush you," Lowry says, smiling friendly. "Where would you recommend we stay?"

[Xsesiv]

On the drive to the boarding house, Miss Mussida rattles off a list of hotels and addresses from memory. Most of them are in the middle of the range. "They're all clean, fairly nice," she says, "but nothing special. Some of them are more expensive, but you get what you pay for. You might have heard of the Michigan, and you might want to try there if you prefer the high life, but that'll set you back fifteen, twenty dollars a night at least."

Before too long, the car pulls up outside the boarding house she mentioned. "Thank you for the lift," she says, apparently on the verge of another sobbing fit. "I'll see you tomorrow, I hope." She turns and heads up the steps to the boarding house.

[ocel]

"Indeed," Niel acknowledged before turning to his coworkers. He'd anticipated their next course of action would be to learn all they could about Chicago before establishing a base of operations. However, perhaps that wouldn't be necessary? After all, a renown hotel would do anything to prevent a murder investigation ruining their reputation. Like hiding in plain sight. Unless they've got something to fear than their fellow man, then the likelihood of an outright attack would be improbable.

[Steilos]

John straightened himself up, but remained silent. He wasn't accustomed to the high life, but it might be better for them to go incognito there. On the other hand, they could dive further into disrepute, into the kind of places where a bottle of 'shine or a handful of cash could earn your anonymity quick and easy. He looked around around uneasily at the others. "So... Chicago. Been a while. You know, I think my old flat's still empty somewhere in this city. Don't think anyone cared enough to replace me." he said with a mirthless chuckle before checking his moonshine was hidden.

"We need to get a nice place to shelter up. Somewhere reputable, somewhere clean. Somewhere too populated, too influential to blow." He looked over at his fellow investigators. "What did she call it again, the Michigan?"

[CockroachTeaParty]

Clive lets out a low whistle.
"$15 a night? Man, I don't plan on makin' a habit out'a that. As long as I got a place to park, I'm all set."

[ocel]

Clive's opinion provided a opportunity for Neil to speak his own. "Shouldn't set us back if we pool together. Besides there're things money can't buy back..."

[Xsesiv]

The Michigan Hotel, located on the corner of LaSalle and Illinois Streets, is a vast, palatial building, with twenty-four floors and two hundred and sixty rooms, convenient to the financial district, exchanges and law firms.

Inside, the lobby is panelled in oak, appointed with antiques and original artwork, with Victorian wing and club chairs, couches and side tables arranged to encourage conversation, while in the middle a large, splendid marble fountain is surrounded by dolphin-riding cherubs who spray jets of water into a bronze urn in the fountain's centre. A pair of elevators are flanked by a magnificent pair of curving staircases with hand-wrought banisters.

At the front desk, the receptionist, a sleek, bored-looking youngish man, doesn't wait for an inquiry, but offers in a very clipped voice: "If you're looking for rooms, gentlemen, we've only got the standard single rooms left, not many of them, and definitely not all on the same floor. Seventeen dollars per person per night, but that's with private bathroom, use of the recreation centre and complimentary valet service, of course. And there's evening entertainment on the second floor, in the Lincoln Room."