Chapter and Verse - Reginald Wilkins & Isaiah Bartlett

[SocraticLawyer]

Gotcha, that does indeed make a difference.

Reginald approaches the birds, hoping to glean some useful information. Hello ladies, he says, waving in greeting as he nears them. I hope you can help me. I'm looking for an associate of mine. My employee, actually. He hasn't been to work in a few days and I want to make sure he's all right. His name is Tim, thin guy, glasses, mustache. I heard he might have stopped by here.

[Grognardsw]

The old ladies look foreign with swarthy wrinkled skins, bent backs, overweight bodies, beady eyes glaring from unpleasant faces. Reginald inquires about Timothy.

"I don't think so," answers the shorter one with a heavy accent. "He live here?"

"Many men with mustaches around," says the taller one.

Note: Pictures added into previous posts.

[SocraticLawyer]

He doesn't live here, says Reginald. But I'm certain he's been here recently. He's tall, with circular glasses. Goes by Timothy, or Tim. Bit of an odd fella. He might have been interested in that mural, he says, pointing to it. You ladies haven't seen anyone like that, have you?

Reginald tries to remember whether any of Angell's artwork in the little apartment resembled the mural.

[Grognardsw]

"Sorry, no," says the tall old woman.



"I don't remember," answers the short old woman.

Reginald thinks back to the art work of Robert Angell, Timothy's room mate. He can't recall seeing any piece similar to the courtyard wall mural.

Reginald memory check (intx5): [1d100] = 76 No.

[SocraticLawyer]

Thanks anyways, ladies, says Reginald. On a hunch, he tries to imitate some of Timothy's gibberish. Yhunnuc lloigor. He smiles at the old birds.

If there is no further response from the old ladies, Reginald will enter the building to look for clues.

[Grognardsw]

"You not what?" says the taller old lady, looking confusing at Reginald.

"What's the boy saying?" says the shorter old lady. "Did he just cuss at us!?"

Reginald mumbles apologetically, smiles and walks over to the next door building, number 93. The foyer smells, pieces of mail litter the floor, and a puddle of vomit is in the corner. The left wall is a bank of mailboxes, each labeled with apartment number and last name. An inner door leads into the apartment building proper.

[SocraticLawyer]

Reginald will check the mailboxes to see if he recognizes any of the names. If not, he will enter the apartment building.

[Grognardsw]

Reginald looks at the mailboxes hoping to recognize any names. Unfortunately he does not. The book dealer enters the apartment's first floor. There is a central hallway with apartment doors to the left and right, five on each side. In the middle is a stairwell up, wrapping around an out-of-order elevator.

[SocraticLawyer]

With no other leads left to pursue, Reginald will start knocking on doors and asking about Timothy. If anyone answers the door, he will provide a description similar to what he told the old birds. If no one answers or provides useful information, Reginald will head upstairs.

[Grognardsw]

Reginald walks through to the first floor apartments, knocking on the door to 1A. There is no answer. Perhaps they are at work. The book dealer moves onto 1B and raps on the door. He hears a radio inside and after a short wait the door is opened by an obese older woman. Her double chin and neck wattle ripples as she professes no knowledge of this Timothy Carver.

Reginald thanks her and moves on to the next apartment. The next three do not answer the door. Apartment 1F is home to a lady with many cats. The smell of feline exudes from the open doorway. She knows nothing.

Undeterred, Reginald ascends the stairs to the second floor and questions five different tenants, all of whom unfortunately know nothing of Timothy. It is now about lunch time.

[SocraticLawyer]

It seems clear to Reginald at this point that it was not the friendly locals that drew Timothy to this address. Reginald goes back outside to take a closer look at the mural. Perhaps that is what interested his friend.

[Grognardsw]

Reginald wonders what the significance of 93 Court Street is to Timothy. One of his friends? A lover? Or more darkly, a spot to procure drugs that seem to be addling the boy's mind? It seems too poor a place to house a buyer for the books Timothy stole. But then again, knowledge is not restricted to class.

The bookdealer ponders all this as he looks at the mural again.





It is composed of paint and chalk. The artistry is quite skilled upon close-up. Reginald can't quite decide what the foreground image is. A tree or shrouded being or mushroom or a spirit?

[SocraticLawyer]

Reginald cant quite decide what to make of the foreground image. He is reminded of the mushrooms/squid that Timothy was chewing on in his apartment yesterday--it seemed to be multiple things at the same time.

What was it that Timothy had said about alloys, and combining texts together, and the fusion of gods...?

Reginald continues to stare at the mural, hoping to learn something new. Eventually he decides to wait to see if anyone comes or goes from building 93. If no one does, he'll return after a brief lunch.

[Grognardsw]

August 8, 1925, 12:30 pm
Providence, RI
Charter's Book Shop
Reginald Wilkins, proprietor


Reginald ponders the mural, taking note of its characteristics. He loiters about for a bit then decides to take a break for lunch and check in on the shop

He is surprised to find a Providence police car at the front door.

An officer turns to Reginald. "Are you the owner of this establishment?" he questions. "Timothy Carver has been arrested for murder. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

[Grognardsw]

News of Carver's arrest has set wheels in motion, seen and unseen...

Though released some time ago from the asylum, Isaiah Bartlett has nightmares.

Flashes of the bad times - the laughing cultists, the horror, the ungodly abomination that devoured his son. But life has gotten better; life goes on. He tries not to let the bitterness and anger get in the way. But things changed that morning when Isaiah got the phone call from an old friend.

Jeremy Carver was distraught because his son, Timothy, was accused of murder. Not just one murder, which would be heinous in itself, but of multiple murders. The Providence, Rhode Island, police provided the father with private details of the case. Isaiah didn't like what he heard. He was on the next train to Providence. Several conversations later and Isiah realized this was a chance to exact revenge, or redemption, or at least sooth his troubled soul by stopping what looked like to him another dark cult.

The case is not isolated, and has crossed state lines, so the national Bureau of Investigation is now helping. Sympathetic police gave Isiah the name of the lead agent, Gwen Baines. With his own unfortunate experiences and subsequent study of the occult, Isiah is determined unravel the mystery and stop the evil.

Jeremy Carver has some sway locally and persuaded the authorities to let Isaiah informally help and observe. The Providence police are questioning Reginald Wilkins today (Aug. 7.) Isaiah will be there...

[Fulci]

- Train station, Salem, c. 1910.

Past has a way of catching up with you.

Isaiah (wearing a good gray suit that once belonged to Mr. Challice, God bless him!) sits in the third class train on the sturdy wooden bench and tries to gather his thoughts. The other passengers are initially alerted by the presence of this well-dressed, polite man with a huge beard who yet keeps mumbling to himself, but soon stop paying attention to him...

Back in the old days, Isaiah used to do business with Jeremy Carver, who owned a nice patch of forest. Now Carver is one of the biggest lumber providers in the county – a good man, he deserves it. But to lose a son... Isaiah can’t help but draw some parallels between Jeremy Carver’s fate and his own, between Timothy, son of Jeremy, and Peter, son of Isaiah. But he also feels and fears, that Timothy’s engagement in these dark and blasphemous matters might be different.

He knows next to nothing about the ordeal. The police were helpful – or maybe desperate? Even with lumber-magnate Carver’s influence, it was strange for the police to let an old ex-asylum-inmate on on an investigation. But perhaps the good men of the Bureau feel, that this might be something out of their... world. It was certainly how Isaiah feels. His dreams are more vivid than ever. The screams and evil laughter stronger. Morbid figures twist in the shadows. Isaiah is afraid to look in the train window – who knows, what abomination will stare back from the Rhode Island marshes?

The train slows down and stops. Final station, Providence. Did Roger Williams know, what wicked, maddening events would take place in the lands he so cherished?

Isaiah stands up (the long journey sure made his back ache!), takes his luggage. He has just a small gripsack with a clean shirt, a Bible, and a few small carved toys he could sell if money ran short. He gets off the train and heads to his quarters. Jeremy Carver was ready to pay for a suite in the Providence Golden Inn, but Isaiah declined, preferring to bunk at a cheap place for travelling salesmen and the like.

It’s August 7. Isaiah asks for directions in a small shop (and buys some pipe tobacco) and heads to the place where the police questioning will take place. Who might be this agent Gwen Baines he is supposed to look for?

Questions, questions, questions. One must have a sturdy faith to live in this world of obscured meanings!

[SocraticLawyer]

August 7, 1925, 12:30 pm
Providence, RI
Charter's Book Shop
Reginald Wilkins, proprietor


Reginald ponders the mural, taking note of its characteristics. He loiters about for a bit then decides to take a break for lunch and check in on the shop

He is surprised to find a Providence police car at the front door.

An officer turns to Reginald. "Are you the owner of this establishment?" he questions. "Timothy Carver has been arrested for murder. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

Sorry for the delay! I think I mostly have the internet stuff under control now. mostly....

Murder.... Reginald is shocked, and for a few seconds can do nothing but try to process the thought. My God, Timothy.... After a few seconds, Reginald gets a hold of himself and answers the officer's question. My apologies, officer. I am indeed the proprieter of this esablishment. Please come in. He opens the door, and follows the officer inside.

[Grognardsw]

Another police officer and an old man step out from the police car. Reginald opens the shop and the group sits down.

"I'm Officer O'Reilly, this is Officer Smith, and this is Isaiah Bartlett, a... consultant on the case," says O'Reilly. "We arrested Timonthy Carver late yesterday. Following a lead from a neighbor, we discovered him responsible for multiple murders. Quite grisly ones actually that reflect a particularly violent or disturbed mind. The man was briefly violent when arrested and has acted quite oddly since then."

Reginald realizes the arrest must have happened mere hours after he confronted Carver at his apartment to retrieve the books yesterday. It is chilling to think he was talking with a murderer!

"We understand he worked for you. What type of employee was he? Did you notice odd behavior? Do you know if he speaks other languages?" asks O'Reilly. "Did he have any friends or associates you know, perhaps who visited the store? The victims... you see, we're having a hard time identifying them due to extreme... circumstances."

The old man Isaiah Bartlett shifts in his seat, as if he is about to comment or ask questions of his own.

[Fulci]

Some people take pleasure in the distinct smell of old books, and Reginald Wilkins' store definitely gave off that odor of aged, antique paper. But for Isaiah, it wass more like the stench of brimstone! Wretched collectors and their libraries. Isaiah is sure as soon as he enters, that there are numberless eldritch folios tugged in-between penny dreadfuls. He instinctively pulls his little knapsack closer to himself: he takes faith in the book that lies in there. The Carver boy got tainted, and there is chance that his poison is right here in this shop...

Isaiah sits down with the rest of the gentlemen and fixes his eyes on Reginald, trying to see through him. But no forked tounge or slit eye appears or hoof appears. The bookseller looks ordinary. But you may never know with these people.

He waits until Reginald answers the officer's questions. If Reginald tells them about Timothy Carver stealing books from the shop, Isaiah places both his palms steadily on the table and asks, in a calm voice:
"Mr. Wilkins, what kind of books, exactly?"

If Reginald doesn't mention the books in his account for the policemen, Isaiah brings up the subject himself. Any deposit of printed matter arises his suspicion...
"A fine establishment you run here, Mr. Wilkins. Shelves and shelves of antique volumes. Makes one wonder: are there any dangerous books in your possession?"

[SocraticLawyer]

Another police officer and an old man step out from the police car. Reginald opens the shop and the group sits down.

"I'm Officer O'Reilly, this is Officer Smith, and this is Isaiah Bartlett, a... consultant on the case," says O'Reilly. "We arrested Timonthy Carver late yesterday. Following a lead from a neighbor, we discovered him responsible for multiple murders. Quite grisly ones actually that reflect a particularly violent or disturbed mind. The man was briefly violent when arrested and has acted quite oddly since then."

Reginald realizes the arrest must have happened mere hours after he confronted Carver at his apartment to retrieve the books yesterday. It is chilling to think he was talking with a murderer!

"We understand he worked for you. What type of employee was he? Did you notice odd behavior? Do you know if he speaks other languages?" asks O'Reilly. "Did he have any friends or associates you know, perhaps who visited the store? The victims... you see, we're having a hard time identifying them due to extreme... circumstances."

The old man Isaiah Bartlett shifts in his seat, as if he is about to comment or ask questions of his own.

How ghastly, says Reginald. To think, Timothy could do such a thing….

Reginald answers the officer's questions in order. Timothy worked here for the past six months or so. At first, he was a model employee. Lately, however, his performance has been slipping. I’ve confronted him about it several times, both as his boss and his friend. I suspect narcotics may be to blame, although that remains only my suspicion, as I’ve never directly observed that sort of thing, here or elsewhere, with Timothy.

Timothy is, or was, a writer of no small talent. Lately, however, stories he’s written have the curious habit of drifting, partway though, into gibberish, or perhaps some obscure code. Certainly no language that I recognize.

Other than his gibberish, I do not know whether Timothy speaks other tongues. But he is a Princeton man, so it would not surprise me to learn that he knows one or more languages.

Timothy was always quite reserved. I can’t say that I know of any friends of his. I introduced him to some writers that I know, but they were never more than acquaintances.

As for ‘odd behavior,’ in the past month or two Timothy has been making errors here at the store, simple cataloguing or shelving errors. Nothing major, but it suggests his mind is elsewhere. His appearance suffered as well. He said he had “family trouble.” Reginald shrugs his shoulders at this.

More recently, he stole some books from here, for his own personal use. When I confronted Timothy about the books, I found that he had destroyed one of them.

Reginald pauses for a moment, and looks down. He looks up again, saying, I suspected that his mind was leading him down a path towards insanity. Reginald pauses again. But I never thought he was already so far gone.

He waits until Reginald answers the officer's questions. If Reginald tells them about Timothy Carver stealing books from the shop, Isaiah places both his palms steadily on the table and asks, in a calm voice:
"Mr. Wilkins, what kind of books, exactly?"

Reginal doesn’t quite trust the wild-eyed old man. I deal in old and rare books, Mr. Bartlett. The books in question were old, and rare. Reginald looks to the policemen, to gauge their reaction to Bartlett. Reginald wonders what the police department could be consulting Bartlett about….