A Chimay, a Moon, and A Whale

Collinsport. It is a stormy night in Collinwood. And yet it is not a quiet one as several keys events are transpiring. It is a night for secret assignations, surprising revelations, concealed deceptions, yet to be revealed betrayals, and murder. For Esther Friedman, it has been a night of discovery as she has learned of a painful but informative secret in Nicole Collins’ past, which helps her better understand her friend’s desire to combat the forces of evil. Now, if only she were able to unlock the secret that may be hidden away within her grandfather’s journal – a secret to breaking the contract that now threatens her freedom.

Background: [www.rainymood.com]

It was a quarter till nine when Nicole Collins and Esther Friedman entered the Blue Whale. The steady rainfall had subsided to a rather heavy drizzle when they had driven into the parking lot. Together, beneath the sheltering nylon of Nikki’s large black umbrella, they had crossed the lot, mounted the wooden steps leading to the renovated wharf, walked along before the closing retail souvenir and craft shops, and made their way toward the famous Collinsport nightspot and restaurant.

With a nod of recognition, they had passed Evan Hanley as he, having just exited the Whale, stepped aside for them on his way to the parking lot. Because of the weather, they had been spared a momentary exchange of greetings. There was something about Hanley that gave Nicole pause. And until they had passed only moments before in the rainy night, she had given little thought as to whether or not he was in fact her solicitor – seeing as how he had indicted that he had been previously retained on her behalf by David Collins. It was now yet another item on her lengthening list of things to inquire about – later, as she now shook the umbrella while Esther opened the door. She then stepped inside.

Nikki, who had heard about the new singer at The Blue Whale, had (as Samantha had excused herself to do something she said was rather important, which she then of course refused to elaborate upon) decided it was time for her to see for herself if this singer was who she suspected her to be. She had invited Esther to join her – to take a break from the journal and the headache it had caused. As well as her own contribution to Esther well concealed anxiety, owing to having had to explain her dark past with Marceline Champeaux and it’s murderous consequences.

Opening the door, Nikki heard the clatter of dishes and conversations, but the band taking its place on the stage certainly was not the band which she had heard so many rave reviews. It was in fact the same house band she had heard perform at the Whale several times before: The Fishermen.

Esther looks about aware of the changes that had taken place since she had last visited the Whale, which to her mind had not been that long ago, but apparently long enough for them to have renovated the entrance and added the rather fashionable hosting station.

“Hello, welcome to The Blue Whale. Please, place your umbrellas there in the stand if you like. It’s rather nasty out isn’t it. A table for two – or would you care for a booth.” Kimberly Putnam asks warmly.

Across the room, at the bar, a tall woman in a smart conservative jacket and skirt with a silk blouse looks rather bored even as she sips her blue Chimay.

Nikki smiles at the lovely hostess, “Room 2? Do they play tonight?”

“Oh my everyone likes that band. But no, not tonight. Tonight we have the usual band, The Fishermen. They are really quite good.” Kimberly says trying her best to sell the mediocre cover band.

“Thank you,” Nikki says and turns to look back at Esther, “She is not here.”

“Alison Drew?” The young hostess asks, unable not to have having overheard them.

Nikki turns with a bright smile, “Do you know her?”

The girl blushes slightly, “No—but she seems to have a following.”

Nikki smiles, “So I hear.”

“They play tomorrow night.” Kimberly tells her.

Nikki nods and looks over to Esther, still feeling the lingering tension from having to discuss the horrors of Paris. Perhaps Esther felt it too, as she nodded, “Well we came out all this way, we might as well have a few cold ones.”

Esther looks to the hostess, “We’re going to the bar.”

“Oh, certainly, it’s just over to the left, be careful of the step.” Kimberly says with her smart professional smile.

“Yeah yeah, I know where it is . . .” Esther says as gives an off-hand wave and moves ahead. Nikki following behind slowly saunters through the room heading over to the bar – concentrating on trying to diminish her hearing else the clatter of dishes and the cacophony of conversations would be overwhelming.

Hallie Stokes at the end of the bar beginning now to feel the effect of her Trappist beer sighs happily, finally feeling the easing tensions of her travels.

Esther takes a seat at the bar, “Lager,” She says to Carl Gustafson who stands behind the bar as she takes off her scarf and bundles it before her. She glances up at the bar mirror and takes note of the odd distortion in the surface of the glass – a blur like imperfection in the looking glass.

“Nik.” She says in a slightly loud whisper.

Nicole Collins turns and sees Esther motioning to the mirror, “Someone might?”

The bartender steps up, “Hey, Esther. Beer?”

Although the bar is all but vacant, Nikki steps over closer to Esther so that she stands slightly behind a weight bearing wooden column of the bar – so that her lack of reflection – or the distortion of her reflection is not quite so obvious.

Esther looks at him, “I said a Lager din’ I?”

“Right,” Carl Gustafson nods and then looks at Nikki.

Nikki, who having been told by the ladies at the yellow house on Benefit Street that Vampires can digest alcohol orders a vodka martini, shaken. He smiles, as he likes her voice, the accent. Very British – she’s not been in the States very long he thinks and looks at Esther. Now there’s a strange paring.

“And be sure it’s a clean glass this time Carl.” Esther tells him as he turns to get the drinks. He looks back at her, “Ah, Esther – how I have missed you. Hey, you can tell your lovely friend there she doesn’t have to stand, we’ve got lots of bar stools tonight.”

“That is quite alright.” Nikki tells him. She looks about and notices the tall red-haired woman with the prim glasses at the end of the bar, pouring more of the blue Chimay into her glass.

Carl returns and places the drinks before them, “Been a while Esther, how have you been.”

“Bah. I’ve been up and down and all over the place. How’bout you Carl? How’s the family?”

“Susan’s back at work, finally.”

Esther nods.

Nikki lifts the glass and takes a sip, and thought it is not blood is amazed at how good it tastes.

Esther takes a sip of the cold beer, not amazed at how bad it tastes and sighs aware now of just how much she really needed a break – a beer.

“As for me, well, doing great, especially of late, tips have been good, lot’s of business with the new band.”

At end of the bar Nikki notices that the tall, red-haired woman as she glances down the bar at them. She looks far less a tourist and more a professional having sat longer than she had intended once the Happy Hour was over.

Esther nods and glances back at the woman.

“The new band I hear most excellent reviews regarding their lead singer.” Nikki says to Carl Gustafson, who smiles warmly.

“Oh sure. Not only can she sing, but hey, she’s a real looker. Alison, Alison Drew’s her name.”

Nikki sighs, “I knew an Alison Drew. She was from Woonsocket . Rhode Island.”

“Hmm, I think Alison’s from Providence.” He says his brow knitted in thought, “Yeah, I am sure she said Providence. But, they’re both in Rhode Island, so it might be the same girl.”

“Do they rehearse here?” Nikki asks, as if merely making small talk.

“Naw, they stay out at an old warehouse down off Wharf Street. It’s being leased as the owner can’t move it in this Obama economy.”

“Yes, well, thanks, Carl. Guess we will have to catch them some other night.” She smiles warmly, “And the drink, it is wonderful.”

“You’re welcome.” And then Carl moves down the bar to check on the redhead.

Nikki watches as he strolls down to the woman sitting very straight at the end of the bar—she looks familiar.

“You seem to be very interested in this Alison, Nik.” Esther says looking at her.

“Nothing romantic I assure you – it’s just . . . if she is what I suspect it could be worrisome.” Nikki says evasively.

“Worrisome – you mean trouble.”

Nikki smiles, Esther knows her too well, “Precisely.”

Esther sighs and takes a long drink of her lager. She puts her drink down and turns to look down the bar at the bartender, “Hey Carl? Your Family, Gustafson. Is that Norwegian by any chance? Or just North Dakotan?”

Hallie Stokes smiles at the bartender, “Carl, if you please, would you be sure to put in another order for more Chimay.”

He smiles back at her, “No worry about that, Miss Ev— . . . Miss Collins, she makes sure we’re well stocked with imports.”

Hallie Stokes smiles and lifts her glass, “My compliments to her.”

He then looks back down to Esther and the tall blonde with her, “We’re from South Dakota.” He calls down, “Why?”

“Another?” He quickly asks the redhead – finding something very naughty about the too prim glasses.

She indicates the blue Chimay, “I hope you have 5 more bottles of this please.”

Carl raises and eyebrow, “Okay.”

Nikki looks at Esther, “The woman at the end of the bar, do you know her?”

Esther looks again, peers, and then shakes her head: “No.”

“She looks so familiar.”

Carl brings the five bottles and lines them up, “Here you go Miss Stokes.”

The redhead blinks surprised, ”I am impressed.”

He opens one and leaves the remaining four still capped.

Nikki’s acute hearing overhears Carl and she leans to look past Esther at the woman seated at the end of the bar.

Carl notices the blonde at the bar as she is now motioning to him.

Esther, aware that the woman has attracted Nik’s attention takes another sip of her beer, “Something up?”

The bartender walks back down to Esther and the blonde – her dark roots by intention revealed, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, hey Carl, this is Nikki. Nikki Collins.”

His face suddenly reveals a recognition, “Should have guess . . . the accent. You’re the cousin from England, right?”

Nikki confirmed her identity with a charming smile, “So nice to meet you Carl. If you have a moment, perhaps you can help me, the woman at the end of the bar.”

“Miss Stokes, you mean.” He asks.

“Yes. Is she Hallie Stokes?”

“Professor Stokes, yes, Hallie – that’s what she told me. She’s from Norway. Oslo.”

Esther looks up at Nikki who looks back at her, knowingly.

“She’s staying at the grand mansion itself, Collinwood. A friend of David Collins.” He informs, “I would have thought you would have known.”

“I have not seen David in days.” Nikki replies rather off-handily and with an aside to Esther tells her, “I will be right back,” as she moves now toward the end of the bar and Professor Stokes.

Esther nods and takes a sip of her lager.

Hallie curiously watches as the tall, blonde from the other end of the bar moves away from the woman seated beside her and slowly saunters toward her. There was something in the woman’s walk that very was suggestive of the feline – as if watching a sleek panther approaching. “Professor Stokes? Professor Hallie Stokes?”

“Yes,” She replies having taken a last drink of her Chimay.

“Would you by chance happen to be the niece of Professor T. E. Stokes?”

Hallie’s curiosity now piqued looks the woman over, “Yes. Yes, he was my Uncle, and you? You are?

“Nicole Collins. I am . . . “

“Barnabas Collins’ daughter.”

Nikki smiles, “Yes.”

“Uncle Timothy spoke of you.”

“He used to visit my guardian Dr. Hoffman – at our London townhouse.”

Hallie reflecting remembers her Uncle’s fondness for Dr. Julia Hoffman. “Yes. They were very close friends.”

“He was such a great man,” Nicole says and steps closer to Hallie, “I do miss him immensely. I remember fondly sitting on his lap in my father’s study as he read to me. He taught me Latin you know.”

Hallie refreshes her glass from the just opened bottle of Chimay, “Yes, as I said he did speak of you. I do hope you have kept up with your study of the language.”

Nikki smiles, even as she feels a bit of a chill from Miss Stokes – which has nothing to do with her being from Norway.

Across the room the tall brunette who could have graced the cover of Vogue or Elle, had she taken the time to apply more time to her make-up, takes a seat at one of the small round bar tables. The flickering flame of the candle in the small blue volute shifts shadows across her features, which are clearly Russian.

Stella Katarina Romanova, just arrived from Scarlet Creek, New York, settles on one of the high short-backed, swivel bar chairs at the table and flags down a waiter. The co-publisher of Unknown Realms, a little-distributed occult-oriented publication that for years has tried to convince people of the supernatural and paranormal dangers that exist amidst their everyday world, to little success had arrived this rainy night to meet with Tobias T. Tillinghast, the owner, publisher and Editor-in-Chief of the Collinsport Star.

“As I remember, you are a professor of linguistics.”

Hallie Stokes takes a drink and sits her glass down, “Yes, at the University of Oslo.”

The waiter steps over to Miss Romanova’s table, introduces himself as Tim, hands her a menu, and then proceeds to list the nightly specials before asking if she would like a drink. Stella Romanova nods and orders a Blue Moon Ale and the special.

“Very well ma’am.” Tim, her waiter says and then heads to the end of the bar and the drink station.

Esther a bit interested in the redhead, knowing that she was from Norway, steps up behind Nikki to overhead a bit of their conversation, “So this is the Stokes you’ve been talking about Nik? Small world then?”

“Yes,” Nikki says, “It at times astounds me. Esther this is Hallie Stokes, she is the niece of Professor Stokes—who I have told you about, he—he tried to help me after my . . . “

“The accident in Paris.” Professor Stokes concludes and smiles at Esther.

Nikki’s eyes narrow slightly.

“Nice to meet ya.” Esther says and holds out a hand.

Professor Stokes accepts the slightly sticky hand and shakes, “And you are?”

The waiter carries back the Blue Moon Ale to Stella Romanova, who is looking bored, “Your order will be out shortly.”

“Me? I’m Esther Friedman. Local Hunter and Punching bag. Hunter? Huntress? Whatever. I hunt.”

Hallie smiles pleasantly.

Stella nods distractedly, “Blagodarju vas.”

The waiter, Tim, looks at her oddly and says: “Yeah, right.” He then moves on to another table to check on his customers.

Esther reaches over and takes a handful of peanuts from a small bowl on the bar.

“I am so sorry about his death—it was very tragic.” Nikki says, remembering when she heard about his being killed in Amsterdam.

“Yes . . . well,” She looks at Nicole Collins with an expression that is hard to read, “Life moves on, or so they say.”

Stella not meaning to, over hears the statement and smirks.

Nikki takes a sip of the lovely martini and for a moment worries that Miss Stokes . . . is a bit more informed about her than she might have at first believed. What does she know? Is she aware that Professor Stokes’ accident was perhaps related to his investigation into who had attacked and turned her? Although, her mother has denied all knowledge of this event when Nikki asked her, explain she had nothing to do with his death. That she did not even know the gentleman in question.

Stella reaches over and opens the bottle herself, making a note to leave a scathing review of the service on Yelp.

Esther is not uncertain there isn’t some tension between them as she takes a drink of her beer and reaches for some more of the salty beer nuts.

“So, you are staying at Collinwood I hear, a guest of David’s?”

“Yes I am.”

Tim the waiter returns now with the flounder platter, lightly breaded. He places it on the table, “Here you go, ma’am.’

“THANK YOU.” Stella tells him slowly and deliberately in English this time as she is more than a bit annoyed, bored, and very hungry.

Hallie Stokes places her drink down on atop the bar, “I cannot help but feel Miss Collins that you have something to discuss rather than simply wanting to reminisce about the unfortunate death of my Uncle.”

Nikki nods, “I am sorry. You are correct. If it would not be a horrible imposition upon you, is it possible that I could ask a favor of you?”

The waiter, uncertain as to what he’s done to deserve the loud and deliberate reply blinks, “You . . . you’re welcome.”

“What sort of favor?”

She smiles, aware that her Russian accent has definitely hammered home her annoyance as she takes a sip of her Blue Moon, and finds it cold and rather to her liking – as is the first bite of the flounder.

“You see, Esther’s grandfather left a journal, and part of it is in Norwegian, could you perhaps take a look at it and translate for us?”

Esther almost chokes on her beer.

Hallie Stokes looks past Nicole Collins to the reaction of Esther Friedman and says, “It seems your friend would rather I not.”

“No, no. I just drank a bit too fast, sorry,” Esther smiles, wiping a bit of lager from her chin.

Nikki looks at Esther and pats her on the back, “Are you alright Esther?”

“Nik, a quick word?” And she pulls Nikki over to the side for a moment.

Nikki moves over and stands against a column, her back against it, “What is it?”

Still Stella wishes she could have found a decent Russian restaurant with REAL food, and what is that going on over there? She looks up to see the tall blonde being pulled to the side by her friend. The redhead sitting so refined returns to her drink. It’s all very furtive.

“Are you sure she is trustworthy?” Esther whispers, motioning to Hallie Stokes with her half empty glass of beer, “You know what is in that journal. We are finding things in the Yiddish Section that would make most people think Grandpa was Nuts. Think we were nuts for wanting to translate it. Nik – it’s all about . . . vampires.” And she lowers her voice upon the word vampires

The waiter steps over and places another Blue Moon on the table, “From the gentleman over at the booth.” he says.

Stella turns and looks over at the booth.

“Esther, she is Elliot Stokes’ niece. Elliot was good friend not only to my father, but to the woman who raised me, Dr. Hoffman, and there is ever reason to believe that he died trying to help me. “ Nikki whispers back, “Of course, there is the possibly that she already knows about me – and my affliction. But the fact remains we still need someone to translate the Norwegian section. I do think we can trust her. “

At a side booth a white-haired gentleman with a neatly trimmed white beard sits very erect, almost as if he had been an officer in the navy as he wears a dark navy pea coat. He nods to her and raises his glass of vodka.

Esther looks back at the woman with the too perfect posture, sipping her beer and then pats Nikki’s arm, “Well, alright, as long as you are sure.”

“Hallie grew up here in Collinsport—she and David, well from what Julia and Elliot used to whisper at times when they didn’t think I was listening, she and David saw some very strange things.”

“Ok. Nik, if you think it best.”

The gentleman at the booth salutes her in Russian.

Stella looks at the man and stammers out a thanks in Russian: B-bol’šoe spasibo. Budem zdorovy. ((“Thank you. Let us both remain healthy.”))

Nikki nods and once more glides over to the bar and affects a warm smile, “I know this maybe in imposition, Hallie. But, if you wouldn’t mind, could you take a moment to stop by my offices and just take a look at the journal. Or if it is more convenient, I can of course stop by Collinwood?”

He says back in Russian, ((“Never mind the Cowboys, it is good to see someone from the motherland.”))

“I would much like to see your office, if it’s all the same to you Nicole, “Hallie smiles professionally

Stella feeling the warming glow of her Blue Moon takes up her flounder platter and Blue Moon to walk over to the gentleman’s table.

“Ah, have a seat, with a old fisherman.” The ruggedly handsome older Russian gentleman says and nods to the seat across from him.

((Vostok. And you?)) She says and takes a seat.

((I have been in this country . . . much longer than I care to remember)) He smiles.

“So Miss Stokes, shall we go look at some old documents?” Esther asks stepping up now although she is still not certain this is the best of ideas.

((But I did come here to this quite coast for the fishing, like my father)) He sits back and looks at her, the black hair, and the attractive glasses. The high cheekbones.

((Goodness . . . it has been 9 years. I came to make my fortune as a model, if you can believe it.))

“Carl, if I can ask, could I have a box please.”

((A beautiful woman such as you . . . yes, this I can see. You have the look. I once commanded a submarine would you believe?))

The waiter comes over and asks if he wants another. “Yes, my good man, another.”

((For the honor and glory of the Republics, yes?)) Stella Romanov smiles, ((I must say those days were a little before mine.))

“The bartender he knows of my the drink, it’s called the One Ping.” The white-haired fisherman said with a deep commanding voice.

Esther reaches a hand into her jean pocket and pulls out a twenty and pays for her drink and Nikki’s martini.

The waiter looks over to Stella, who indicates that she is fine with what she has and smiles at the ex-naval officer.

Nikki finishes her drink and places it on the bar, “Carl, you said Room 2, they are leasing an old warehouse?”

“Right, off of Wharf Street.” The bartender says as he steps over to look at Miss Stokes, “It’s alright Professor, I did not put them on your tab as yet, not until you opened them.”

“But I would like to take them with me?”

“Ah, well—you see that’s . . .”

Nikki smiles at him, “Carl, it would be a great favor to me if you would allow Miss Stokes to take her Chimay with her.”

He looks at her, “Miss Collins.”

“You could place them in a box at the back door?”

He looks at her, and Nikki steps over and slips him some money, “Well—okay, just don’t tell anyone about it.”

“Thank you Carl.”

The waiter walks over to drink station, “White-haired gent over in the booth wants a One Ping, Carl.”

“Right.” He nods to the waiter, then nods to Nikki.

Stella continues to closely look at the fisherman across from her and cannot help getting an odd feeling, this weird vibe, that tells her there is certainly a story here. What is she has no idea.

The white-haired Russian fisherman looks out the window, “It was in an October that I came to this land.” He says longingly – as if reminiscing.

“I publish a magazine, Unknown Realms.”

“I know of this magazine.”

“Right.” Esther says, “Lets go. There’s a lot of work to be done and not a lot of time to do it in. Let’s get translating.” Esther puts her scarf on again, finishes her beer and puts the empty glass on the bar. “Tell Susan hello,” She tells Carl, who nods and takes the four remaining blue Chimays from the bar.

Nikki, Esther, and Hallie make their way through the maze of tables just as The Fishermen start up a new set

Cue Music End of Episode