Collinsport. Peter Cairo, who had arrived in Collinsport to deliver several steamer trunks filled with curios, various occult artifacts, and several old books and journals to Samantha Evans (as well as a message to David Collins, from her father, Quentin Collins, that he had decided that the time had come to reveal that she was secretly a Collins), has rather mysteriously remained in town. A procurer of obscure antiquities, one would have thought that once he had made delivery of his consignment there would be little reason for him to remain in Collinsport. And yet, the enigmatic art dealer has continued to maintain rooms at The Collinsport Inn. It would appear that perhaps Peter Cairo has, or is waiting for, yet another clientand another assignment . . . one which will have major repercussions once it is revealed
Just beyond the old wharf and the murky warehouse, the lights cast down through the mullioned windows glitter now upon the dark waters of the harbor, as the rental car pulls off Harbor Street and into the large parking lot. The Ford Fusion pulls up to a white wooden railing and stops. A man in a white linen suit gets out and, looking about warily, buttons his jacket against the wind. Off in the distance he can hear a buoy. He nods and smiles now at a passing couple making their way toward a light blue Sports vehicle. During the season, no doubt the parking lot would be far more crowded, so much so that harried drivers would be forced to find places to park out and along Water Street, and beyond, but tonight, the lot was less than half filled.
He walks over to the weather-eaten, wooden steps leading up to the wharf. Long ago, in the late 1960s this area had been transformed into a small shopping outlet lined with jewelry stores, curio shops, gift boutiques, small, narrow outlets selling souvenir apparel, and of course the ever present galleries for the local artists and craftsmen. Anchoring the small retail strip stood the most popular restaurant for Collinsport denizens and tourists alike The Blue Whale. Originally it had been The Eagle, a less reputable tavern, erected in the 18th century. Of course, if the local guidebooks were to be believed it would appear that its reputation has undergone a significant rehabilitation since the 1800s.
Wisps of fog arise slowly now to curl about the wooden deck built out over the bay, as the Blue Whale was, even in the off-season, still open at this late hour. Peter Cairo ‘s fingers instinctively rise in order to cup the right frame of this glasses as he habitually adjusts them just as he reaches the top of the weather-eaten steps, leading to the wharf. The night breeze from the North Atlantic, blowing in across Frenchmans Bay, was chill perhaps much too chill for the white linen suit that he wears it carried with it the pungent scent of the sea.
He briskly makes his way down the uneven planks of the wharf, listening to the surf washing against the wood below, the ever-present buoy, and the vague sound of music escaping now from the old tavern ahead. He reaches out and opens the door to The Blue Whale and enters into the music and conversations, the sudden scent of the decorative candles in their small volutes, which waxes and wanes now with the scent of seafood, beer on tap, and the ever present hint of mildew.
The décor and ambiance is no more than any other seafood restaurant and tavern along the Maine Coast that he has patronize but he assumes that the food itself has lead to its popularity, or else it must be an excellent bit of Public Relations and advertising.
Peter Cairo stood, one hand in his white trouser pocket, as he let his perceptive gaze scan across the main dining room. The young hostess, large blue and grey menus in hand, stepped up to him, Just one, Sir.
“Oh, no. I am here to meet an old acquaintance, he said, and suddenly notices, the tall, stunning, blonde sitting in a booth near the large plate glass windows looking out to the bay, Ah, and I see her now. Thank you so much for you assistance.
And he nods with a slight bow and then walks across the room toward the booth and the strikingly beautiful blonde.
“Peterso good to see you.” Her voice is light, almost playful.
Across the room, Esther Friedman, having returned from Friday Night services in Bangor, opens one of the double glass doors of the Blue Whale and halts for a moment as two bats suddenly take flight from the eaves near the swaying wooden sign of the Whale. She looks up with a frown and enters.
Waving a hand, she mutters aloud, Bats!
The long bus ride has left her thirsty for just one quick, relaxing drink before beginning her long walk out to the Old House.
As she strides through the broken conversations and music on her way over to the bar, she could not help but notice that the blonde, what was her name, oh yes, Victoria Victoria Wren, some-kind-of-a writer who had somehow gotten herself accidently lost up the old access road to the Old House, having taken a wrong turn, down by where the Dennys used to be, in the most recent snow storm, and now, here she was sitting over at a booth as that odd Peter Cairo was just walking over to start up a conversation.
Whatwas he trying to pick up tall blondes? Everyone had a fetish, she thought. Buthe had to be, what . . . five foot four, maybe, in his shoes?
Well, Good luck.
Peter Cairo, having strolled over rather casually, stands beside the booth and smiles, It is a pleasure that I had all given up any hope of that we should ever see one another again. He motions to the booth, “May I?”
“Oh, Peter please, you don’t have to be so formal. But, yes, please do have a seat.” She says cheerfully, motioning for him to join her.
Very leisurely, he takes a seat in the booth
As usual, Peter Cairo was the epitome of calm reserve, his dark eyes deliberate, and ever observant, as he looked at her now not as the others had done when she arrived, attracted to her long legs, the golden blond hair, the beautiful face, the seductive curves but really looking at herseeing the hint of maliciousness in her corner of her mouth, the suggestion of sarcastic cruelty in her eyes, The eyewear utilitarian or merely decorative? He asks.
You do see everything, Peter. She says in all seriousness.
Yesbut I did not foresee
A cut of her eyes stops him from completing the sentence, Well as she smiles brightly, while the blue brilliance darkens to a shade of turquoise, I am rather grateful that you decided to stay in Collinsport . . . until I could arrive.
Oh, my dear, He says adjusting his glasses, It was a request that I found was most easy to acquiesce. Not only in finding myself once again in your most charming presence, but I must confess to being highly intrigued to learn of
She smiles and her bright blue eyes sparkle as she looks at him askance, having glanced quickly at the small crowd gathered at the Whale,” Peter, I am certain you are filled with a great many questions. An overwhelming curiosity. But I am sure that you can understand . . . and I assure you I will tell you everything when I have the opportunity as I am in the need of the confidences now of old friends and alliesonly . . . not now . . . not here.”
“As always you can be assured of my assistance.” He tells her softly.
She smiles, For a price?
Business always before pleasure, He looks at his fingertips as they continue to idly rub at the tabletop, before he looks up at her But my dearbusiness with you is always a pleasure.
Esther, sitting at the bar lifts her drink, finding herself glancing every so often to the mirror in order to watch the stunning blonde in the booth talking with that Art collector who as she remembers still owns Nik a gift from her mother a Christmas present.
And its been a long time since Christmas.
Victoria Wren smiles and sits back looking at the old establishment, “My it does not seem to have changed.”
“Oh soas it is in life, some things seem to never change, some change too much.”
She raises her eyebrow in that look he has seen many times, So, Peter. And he knowis precisely what she is concerned about, What news do you have for me?
Ah, well, at the moment she is safe at the moment. As I am certain you have already ascertained. He then looks at her uncertain as to how she will react to his next statement, Butyou should be aware she is here also.
She?
Ezserbet Bathroyshe has returned.
She sits for a moment silent, reflective.
Returned? She is here?
From what I have been able to gather, she had arrived in Collnsport sometime ago, but then she subsequently disappeared, only to return, just the other night. He explains as his fingers stop rubbing the tabletop. Complications?
NoI shall deal with her as I have in the past. She looks at him, the hint of impertinence and mischief no longer in her azure eyesnow there was only a resoluteness. You have accepted my commission?
Yes, He tells her adjusting his glasses, I have found two of the items you requested . . . and I will be delivering them to Miss Samantha Collins shortly.
She leans forward, The globe, Peter have you found the globe?
At the moment, He starts to explain but the waitress interrupts as she steps over to the booth to stand hipshot looking down at them.
Hello. I hope you are having a good evening. I am Amber. I will be your server tonight, so . . . what can I get you two. A drink to start? The woman asks.
Peter Cairo looks up and smiles pleasantly, “I would like a cup of tea, and I am told you have excellent tea here.”
Yes, sir. She nods and looks at the blonde, who cuts her eyes up to look at her, And for the lady?
“A glass of white wine please.” Victoria Wren tells her.
“Very good a cup of tea and a white wine. Will you be late dining with us?
Oh, no, just the drinks please. He tells her
Victorias eyes, following the waitress, takes note now of the reflection of Esther Friedman as she sits at the bar, she returns her gaze to Peter Cairo and says in a soft voice, “You were saying Peterabout the globe.”
“At the moment, I am sorry to have to inform you that it currently eludes mebut I shall continue my inquires into its whereaboutsI do hope to have some more pertinent information in a day or two. It would perhaps expedite matters if I were allowed to communicate with Douglas.
“No She leans forward; her blue eyes intense, “You have no need to inform him. He would immediately know precisely what my intentions are you . . . have not contacted him have you?
He looks at her rather sternly, Of course not. You should be very well aware that all my transactions are strictly confidential.”
Peter you have to understand just how important this is
I can undoubtedly deduce the importance. He tells calmly, As to the other matteryour information is correct, the Doctor is here.
“Praetorius?”
Yes.
Her voice cannot disguise her dislike for not only the name but also for the man. In Collinsport!”
“Yes.” Cairo saysand the waitress arrives with their drinks. She sets the small white pitcher, teacup and saucer down before him; and then places the glass of white wine in front of Victoria Wren.
“Anything else I can get for you?”
“Oh, no, thank you very much.” He pours tea into his cup and takes a sip, Oh so. Looking up to her, Most excellent.
The waitress smiles and then steps over to a table across the way.
Peter Cairo sits a moment, listening to her as she begins to check on the other customers needs.
Yes, he has a facility just off the coast, a few miles north of St. Eustace Island. It was financed by Mr. David Collins, but it was constructed specifically for the Diogenes Club.”
“Catriona Kaye.” She says as her eyes go quite cold. She looks at him severely
No. He tells her and takes a slow drink of his tea, It would seem that the lady no longer serves as the acting chairman of that illustrious organization there was the small matter of her death.
Her deaththen Kaye is dead?
He smiles, How many do we know that have died and are not dead.
Then she is . . . undead?
He sits his cup down precisely in the saucer, The poor woman took three shots in the chest, but alas it seems they would not let her die.
“Praetorius?”
Mmm . . . I am not certainthere is some mystery about her resurrection.
I will find out from the good doctor.
No doubt you will. He runs a fingertip along the rim of his tea cop, “You will find that when he is not at the island facility he spends his time at The Collinsport Inn.”
Drinking gin? She asks rhetorically, Well, the Doctor and I have an long over due appointment.”
Undoubtedly.
“I must have the globe, Peter.”
“Yes, I understand I know where it is, I just have to . . . acquire it.”
“I am staying at . . . Collinwood,” her voice can not hide a hint of irony, “I am a guest of David’s . . .”
“Yes, working on a book as I understand.”
“Witchcraft Cults in New England.”
Cairo smiles around the rim of his teacup, “Ah, a subject matter of much interest I would think.”
“Peteras I said, I am in need of old friends and confidences. She reaches out and puts her hand on his, “I can rely upon your help, can I not.”
We are old friends you and I. He smiles at her, Butyou are more than aware there is another upon who you can
She looks at him, her eyes betraying an odd mix of emotions. “No, Peter. I am . . . I am not yet ready for that. . .”
He looks at her, his eyes devote of any emotion, “As you say . . . I will soon have the globe . . . is that the final piece?”
“No, there is yet another, but I know where it is.”
She suddenly looks at her watch, “I am sorry, Peter, but I need to return to Collinwood. I have to met with David as he is going to go over some old family records.”
She stands and then grasps his hand and squeezes it, You are a good friend, Peter. Be careful, please.”
She opens her purse and he waves his hand, No, please. This is on me.
I will get the next round.
He smiles, You still owe me a very long and interesting story.”
Victoria Wren nods, “YesI will tell you everything as soon as I have an opportunity.”
“Now, you must go. You must meet with David Collins so that he can tell youall about the Collins Family history. He lifts his cup of tea, Be most careful that you do not tell him too much of their history.”
“Oh, the tales I could tell.” She laughs lightly, “Good night Peter.”
“Good night Miss Wren.”
The tall blonde walks through the crowd and departs. Peter Cairo sits watching her walking towards the entrance of The Blue Whale and takes a sip of his tea. He more than anyone was well aware that few could truly tell the difference between an angry witch and an evil witch and he watched now as the angry witch stepped out of the door.
Cue Music End of Episode