Another night in Collinsport finds Samantha Brook walking the narrow sidewalks of the business district as she returns once more to the familiar storefront of Collins Investigations. Initially, Samantha had felt the small Maine village would be nothing more than just another destination on her restless journey through a life haunted by memory and a silent fear of a growing madness. Curiosity had drawn her here Only, she has discovered, here in the most unlikely of places, a growing fondness for those with whom she has, despite her sarcastic and cynical veneer, established an unlikely relationship. Most especially Miss Nicole Collins. Tonight, she has received word from Rhyaad de’Annar to meet him at the offices of Collins Investigations for reasons she is more than well aware.
Samantha walked down Broad Street, toward the old law offices, prepared for the coming confrontation. She knew there would be a confrontation she was always looking for a confrontation . . . had been ever since that day she had not been looking and had not see it coming. Her father coming up from behind, one hand grabbing her chin, pulling her back against his chest, while the other tool the ornate, antique jewelers loupe, which had been her grandfathers, and he viciously ground it into her eye. Blood and pain, shock and betrayal like incest, like rape hard, quick, and incomprehensible. The impossible become reality.
Nothing had been the same since that dayher reality shattered . . . as kaleidoscopic as that one brief instant of prismatic sight through the loupes magnifying lens before her eye went dark forever.
Of course the consequence of his actions were not those for which he had succumbed to such a reprehensible act he had found her acceptance letter from Harvard, feared she would leave like her mother and, as soon as she could escape from the hospital she did.
Samantha stops a moment, and surreptitiously, casting a glance up and down the street, assuring herself that no one is watching, she deftly begins to pick the lock to the door of the old law office. She has a key but she would much rather pick the lock. She opens the door with a satisfied smile and enters. With a flippant flick of her hand she slips the light switch and walks over and settles into Esthers chair.
Its quite. Nikki and Esther are both out Esther either on her way to the office or shes heading back now to the Old House; Nikki . . . she had no idea. Elbows leaning on the desk, her fingers idly sift through the papers on Esthers desk. Nothing marked Top Secret. Eyes Only. Those eyes of course being those heavily blue eyes of Nikki.
What she would give to have those blue eyes look at her no, not the way they look at Esther, no, she wants to be viewed differently than that but, she does so long to be looked upon by Nikki as she looks upon Esther trusted.
Well there was the teasucker? He set up this meeting. Did not want to have it at the Nightingale oh, hell no, might disrupt the customers. So, yeah, its going to be confrontationaldamned straight. And shes ready for it steeling her self as she see the headlights glare upon the storefront windows, hears the black convertibles muscle car engine outside.
Car door opens closes. Hes alone. Good. She watches as the doorknob turns and the office door opens. Rhyaad enters and gives her a frown seeing her sitting n Esthers chair.
So, what was so urgent? She asks picking up Esther stapler and beginning to snap it — opening it, closing it.
Rhyaad walks over and settles into a chair in front of her. “Well, not urgent, really. Just a concern. Have you been to that hospital in Bangor yet, Samantha?”
I have. Her voice gains a somewhat colder edge.
He takes note of her tone. “You sound like it was an unpleasant experience. Tell me about it, please.”
Samantha puts the results of the exam, stating her sanity, on the desk, atop a disheveled stack of papers, Thats all you need to know.
Rhyaad reaches over and picks up the document and looks at it, “You mean they said you were sane after they treated you, and got you some real medication?”
She pulls out a new bottle, this one for personality balance instead of schizophrenia, Aye.
“So you are actually on a regiment of prescribed pills now, not some random drugs you snatch out of a dumpster?”
Ask the same question a third time and ill put you on a regiment of my foot in your ass, she glares across the desk at him.
Rhyaad sighs, and continues to frown, “Miss Brook, that sounds like a crazy response. And a most inappropriate one. I asked to bring you here from Chicago because I wanted you to have a better life. I asked Esther to allow you to stay here, even though she did not want you. And now I am trying to determine if you are mentally fit to stay here as a helper of the agency. I want to see that you get the help you need, in any case.”
Samantha just looks him dead on.
“And I will ask as many questions as I feel necessary, as many times as I desire.”
I have had two, TWO, different doctors . . . both of them at your and Esther’s recommendations to proclaim me sane. And I have new prescription. What more? What more could you possibly want?
“You deliberately fooled the Doctor I took you to. How do I know you did not fool this other doctor also?”
She snaps the stapler shut and tosses it on the desk, So it doesnt matter how many I go to you will not be satisfied.
“I just want to hear from YOU.” He said, Now do you still take showers by standing in the rain? And pay the rain for them?”
Samantha looks at him, No, answering flatly.
“Do you take your medication, as prescribed?”
Yes, just as flatly, “I always have.
“No you have NOT! If you are cured, why say a lie like that?”
I havent lied. She snaps back, “when I was 16, I was told to take two pills a day.
“Yesand you used to take random pills, claiming that they were all the same. You have not taken medication as prescribed at all until just recently.”
She shakes her head, I may have screwed up the medication but I took two a day just as prescribed.
“Do you think two pills means any two pills?”
She looked at him it wouldnt be good to reach across and smack him we was . . . okay she had to admit yes, he was one of them one of the undead, a vampire . . . although, until she came here, to this little out of nowhere Maine fishing village, she would have smacked someone for even suggesting she might one day actually believe there were such things as vampires — and here she was sitting across from one . . . arguing . . . and so, she was more than well aware that smacking him could only get her tossed around the room but in that instant, the thought of her flesh hitting his, the smack have felt so damned good: No I dont. Now I take these pills as prescribed.
“Do you understand that your previous behavior was irrational, and your statements were wrong?”
I agree I was irrationalbut . . . not all of my statements were wrong.
Oliver , having closed the tea room, decided to drive over to Collins Investigations. Although, Rhy had said very little, Oliver knew he was concerned about this meeting with Samantha Brook as it seemed more and more as if his concern, his desire to help the young woman had only created problems far beyond his altruistic intentions and hes said to Oliver more than once that if he had known the woman was . . . madhe would have never attempted to assist her, would have left her in Detroit. Oliver hears him say it, but knows he would have tried to help even it he had knownhaving found her sleeping in corrugated boxes back behind some private investigative agency going bankrupt in the horrid Detroit economy.
Stepping out of the car and walking into the office, he opened the door to find Rhyaad and Sam at least seemingly to be having a civil conversation no on was at anyones throat and he giggled to himself at that thought . . . as well as the little bit of the discussion he overheard . . . as he knew it to be pointless to argue what was right or wrong with Rhy, Hey, he said as they looked over to see him entering the office.
“Why are you arguing? Rhyaad asked, I am not playing a game here. I do not care to ‘win’ or ‘lose’ anything. You must be cognizant of your previous mistakes if you are to convince us that you have recovered.”
She sits back with a smirk.
Rhyaad turned to wave at Oliver. “Hello my liramaer. I was just grilling Miss Brook with questions.”
I am not arguing, just engaging in a minor correction, to be truly cognizant requires me to be completely honest does it not?
“Well you are a good griller love, “Oliver said not at all seriously, but just for the sake of talking, He made his way over and sat beside him.
“I suppose so. But you are intelligent to know which points I am worried about. Random pill popping, standing in the rain, travelling by clinging to the outsides of busses and boats and aircraft . . . I hope you see the folly of these behaviors now?”
“I did not cling to the outside of the plane; I was safely in the wheel well. She is adamant in correcting that little bit of misinformation, Also, I know those modes of travel are dangerous but sometimes necessaryseeing as how you LEFT me without ANY money in the middle of London.” She ticking off on her fingers, No money. No passport. No ID. And sure as hell no idea how to get back to the Diogenes club. Socare to tell me how the HELL I was supposed to get back?
Oliver smiled, And when were you in London love.
I did what was needed to survive.
“You could have followed us through the portal, Miss Brook. We did not leave you deliberately.”
No one bothered to make sure I was not left behind, She snipes back.
“And if you had asked the people there for help, they probably would have arranged something.”
Oliver chuckled, Oh, they would have thrown her in the psyche ward, he mumbled to himself.
Samantha looks hard at Oliver, Prejudiced assholes, she murmurs.
Hey! Still chuckling, Im on you side on this one . . . for once . . . if I were a nutter and I was stuck in a foreign country I would have totally sneaked into an airplane wheel well.”
Samantha smiles sarcastically, Oh, well, thank you . . . but Im not a nutter.
“The Diogenes club would probably have given you a fake ID and sent you home. You didn’t need to hide in a wheel well.” Rhyaad says confidently.
Used to be, but Im not now.
Didnt say you were, Oliver sits back, just said if I were.
“Well, I shall say then that I am pleased to have you with us in a sane state, Miss Brooks.” Something about his tome makes him still seem skeptical at the thought.
Oliver nodded, What all brought this . . . change then Sammy?
Samantha looks at him, Miss Nikki helped me.
Oliver smiled, By he replied in a curious tone.
Helping me.
Oliver chuckled, Oh, by doing what?
I cant describe it, it just helpedok?
Fair enough, Oliver leaned back into the chair, So what do you plan to do then?
Samantha looks about the office, I think Im doing it . . . assuming the old tea sucker starts seeing me as a person instead of a lunatic monkey that happens to speak.
Oliver he chuckles.
Rhyaad snickered. “Tea sucker. Well, Miss Brook, I shall wait and see. You say you are recovered. We will see.”
Samantha looks at him, So, on a side note I need money from you.
Rhyaad snicker suddenly turned into a laugh. “Money? From me? Whatever for, Miss Brook?”
Because I am not on payroll yet and I thought of a new angle to this snow case.
“Putting you on the payroll is Esther’s job. We’ll see she does that. Now, what kind of new angle on the Snow case?”
Been reading, She says and pulls out several books and a map of Boston from her messenger bag.
Oliver throws his legs up on the table and lights a cigarette.
Now then refresh my memory, we are looking for Pickman’s camera correct?
Samantha reaches back into her bag and also pulls out a beer that had once been in the office refrigerator.
“Yes. But we have not the slightest clue how to find it. They say there is a model in the Smithsonian. I was considering stealing it.”
Wont do you any good. A model would look the same, might even take picturesbut wont do what you’re wanting it to do.
Rhyaad at her thoughtfully now, “You think Pickman’s Farnsworth camera is somehow special?”
Special enough for you to be looking for it.
“Is it magical? Blair used magic with that projector. But do tell . . . where is it that you think we should look for this camera, and why?”
It was special enough for Thurber to take special notice of as in his diary he states, ‘A large camera on a table excited my notice.’ Now, even though it was the 1920’s a normal camera should not have excited that much interest not to an Artist . . . you following me?”
“I think so…. But how was this camera so different or remarkable?”
Not sure, although if Thurber is to be believed Pickman used it to take pictures of demons. The supernatural. And not the blurry crap kind you see in tabloids. But ones that were sharp and clear enough to paint from . . . Anyways . . .” Samantha leans forward and points to two dots on the map, Constitution Wharf and Charter Street.
Rhyaad nodded. “Yes, I read of his pictures. But how, and why, do you think we can find his camera?” He looked at the map. “In Boston?”
Pickman’s studio was somewhere in this circle, Samantha continues, drawing one on the map using Esthers pen, If we’re looking for something someone owned best place to look would be where he always kept it . . . plus, if there is a well in the basement that leads to other basements, that makes two places to look.
“I would agree on the first part. Butif we go into that wellmight we encounter some of Pickman’s demons that are said to dwell in the underground?”
Samantha looks at him, Maybe, maybe not. They may have moved to Arkham if you are to be believed. She smirks.
“I DID see one in Arkham! I am not… crazy.” He smirked back.
However, there is a painting of Pickman’s I want to find before we consider the well, she tells him.
“Which? The demon feeding on the bloody body?”
Samantha smiles, I might like that over my bed, but no . . . the one showing a cross section of Beacon Hill it possibly might be a partial map or even a nearly full map of the underground tunnels said to exist.
Rhyaad raised an eyebrow. “Why would you desire such a horrific portrait over your bed?”
To remind me of you, She beams like a child.
“What? I do not devour human bodies, Miss Brook!”
Your sniffing in the cemetery says otherwise. She retorts smartly.
“I was sniffing for YOU, Miss Brook.”
Yet you sounded so disappointed to have found me, anyways, She says looking back at the map of Boston, Any word on where Pickman’s paintings have gotten to?
“I don’t know. We can add that to our investigation. But, the Beacon Hill one . . . that’s a good idea.”
We get lucky and the Beacon Hill painting is still hanging in his studio?, She suggests.
“And I was not disappointed to find you.” Rhyaad countering her earlier suggestion, “After all these years I doubt it. But we can see.”
I figure the studio and basement safe enough to look but I’m not going down the well without that painting, unless we have no choice, Samantha says and sips the beer.
Rhyaad nodded. “That’s wise. I don’t fancy going down the well at all, unless you have a pretty damn good reason for it.”
“If Pickmans life ended horribly, he may have hidden the camera down there.
“Given his subjects, it’s no surprise. But why would he hide it down there?”
Samantha took another sip of her warm beer, “You said it yourself his paintings. And then there is Thurbers story. So, no one is going down that well not without a damn good reason,” She looks over at him with a too wry smile on her lips, Not if theyre . . . sane . . . anyways.”
Rhyaad rolled his eyes before he snickered. “So perhaps we have the perfect mission for you, after all, Miss Brook?”
Samantha cackles then makes the most adorable pouty face, Youd let a poor wittle girl go down a big nasty hole? awone?
“Not at all. Not without a crusty old vampire.” He kept the smirk.
Samantha returns to business, Good.
Samantha gathers up the books she “borrowed” from the library and leaves a surprisingly neat looking report on the desk along with the map on the desk for Esther later.
Rhyaad reaches over and picks up the papers and begins to read through them. “This is very good work, Samantha. I’m impressed.”
Thank you.
Well, I’ll see you all tomorrow, and so she strides up the stairs to her room, whereupon a loud “WHEEEEEEE” followed by the sound of mattress springs is heard-
“Good night, Miss Brook.” He cringed at the sounds from the storeroom. “Again? Still?”
She calls out, 16 years without a bed, deal with it tea sucker!
Cue Music End of Episode