Obsession

Collinsport. On this night Angelique Collins and Tony Peterson have used the Orb Of Solace to transport themselves back in time to the year 1933 in the hopes of finding a mysterious artifact that may release Barnabas Collins from his in imprisonment beyond time and space. But, as they travel back to the Orient Express, there are those attempting to unravel mysteries of their own. Kimberly St.-Simone, a young woman at the St. Andrews School for Girls continues to seek answers in the death of her roommate Vivica Showalter. In her investigation, Kimberly has yet to combine the various pieces of a puzzle that she is as yet aware she knows – and so troubled by her recent discoveries at The Brewster Apartments she seek out help – against the advice of her friend Agatha Morrowfeld.

To the seasoned New England traveler entering the quaint lobby of the Collinsport Inn always gives one a very startling sense of déjà vu for its similarity to the Lighthouse Inn in Kingsport, Massachusetts. The front desk, the staircase, the odd mix of Victorian and Edwardian furniture, even the carpeting seemed a mirrored image of the Kingsport historical hotel. Through the great revolving mahogany door, a famished and weary Doctor Artemis stepped into the reception lobby of the Inn and was pleasantly surprised to find the delectable scent that indicated to him that the kitchen was apparently still serving even at the lateness of the hour.

He moved over into the restaurant lounge and buttoning his suit jacket, he strode purposefully over to a table near a window from which, during the day, one could look out past the cobbled harborside sea wall and watch the dark Atlantic. Now it was just a darken sheet of glass with vague shapes beyond.

Veronica Teal, upon seeing the dark-suited gentleman make is way into the dining area, reached over and took up a menu, and in her Keds, her fashionably worn blue jeans, and a pale blue t-shirt adorned with the white silk-screened façade of the Collinsport Inn, steps over to him. “Out late again doctor?” She asks as she hands him the menu – well aware of the futility of it since he always orders the same thing.

He looks up to her with a comfortable resignation in the comfort that he kitchen is still open, “Veronica, I shall have an iced tea. Very tall, two lemons.”

She nods with a bounce of the blonde pony-tail, “Right, two lemons.”

“Lemon yellow please. Pleas, none of those that have begun to lose their luster and have begun to turn a slight shade of brown.”

“The fresh ones—” She nods again. “I’ll get your tea while you look over the menu.”

He lifts the well-worn menu and starts contemplating the choices as she moves off behind him and through the double door leading into the kitchen. He is in luck – arriving precisely at the right moment, for he can hear the clatter of pots and pans when she opened the door. They are starting to clean up the kitchen for the night.

Veronica returns in a few moments and places down the large glass of Ice Tea and two very yellow lemons in a small saucer.

“So see that you like on the menu?”

“Hmm, he says.”

She watches him as he reads the menu, well aware of what he is going to order.

Veronica iPhone well tucked into a back jean pocket goes off, she takes it out and presses ignore.

“Victoria I have been meaning to ask, but your fish – I understand it comes from the Collins Cannery.”

“Sure does.”

“Hmm . . . I see, then it is canned fish?”

“Oh, no, they bring in the catch and we get it off the boats.”

Dr. Artemis’s smile returns, “Oh. Well, in that case, I’ll have the halibut, lightly breaded and sautéed. Broccoli with butter sauce . . . on the side. And a baked potato.” He holds up his menu for her.

She smiles taking it from him, “The usual.” She turns and heads back into the boisterous kitchen.

The doctor now turns his attention to the two lemons.

The rhythmic whoom-whoom, , whom-whoom, whom-whoom of the revolving mahogany door accompanies the two young women as they enter the Collinsport Inn. They are dressed in the school uniform of St. Andrews’s School for Girls.

Dr. Artemis looks from the lemons to see the girls.

Agatha Morrowfeld grips her bag very hesitant about this whole crazy mission of Kimberly’s. She feels like Bess or George to her Nancy – although she’s not really sure which, Bess or George as she hadn’t really read any of the books. Seen the movie with Emma Roberts – but they weren’t in it all that much.

“Why are we here again?” She asks looking around the ancient hotel.

The tall, blonde looks to her companion, “We’re looking for that doctor. The one from Arkham;” she explained.

“You mean the librarian?” Agatha pointed out.

“This late he has to be here.”

“Look Kimberly, he’s not Noah Wyle.” She protests as she takes a tentative step to follow Kimberly further.

“I’ll go and check at the front desk.”

A short, slightly balding man, with stopped shoulders stands with his back turned to the lobby as Kimberly strides purposefully up to the front desk. She stands there for a moment – either is he is slightly deaf or he is ignoring her. She decides to move a couple of tourist brochures about to attract he attention; and he turns now to Kimberly St.-Simone with a widel tooth, supercilious grin, “Yessssss! How can I help you?”

“I am looking for a Dr. Artmeis, he is from Arkham I think.”

Dr. Artemis puts one of the lemons back down on the saucer as he perks up, hearing his name mispronounced. He wipes the moist lemon juice from his fingertips and puts his white linen napkin down and rises from the table.

“Do you mean DOCTOR Artemis?” The desk clerk asks, “From the acclaimed Miskatonic?”

Kimberly St.-Simone nods, “Yes, I think that is the same doctor.”

“Excuse me, young lady . . . I’m Dr. Artemis.”

Kimberly almost jumps at the sound of the man’s voice behind her.

He puts out a comforting hand, “I am sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Are you the Dr. Artemis, the one from Arkham?”

“Yes. And you are…?”

“I am Kimberly. Kimberly St.-Simone, and I’m a student at the St. Andrews School for Girls here in Collinsport.” She nervously holds out her hand to shake.

Dr. Artemis shakes her hand, “Very nice to meet you, Kimberley.”

He notices that she seems to be looking around, as if trying to discover who might be able to eavesdrop on their conversation, “I-I . . . can we talk somewhere more private, doctor.”

“About what?”

“Killin’” Agatha says a bit louder than she meant to and much too matter-of-factly.

The doctor frowns and turns his attention upon the second girl, “Killin’” he repeats.

“You see, it’s about my friend Vivica Showalter—you know, she was the young girl who was murdered and found by the Coast guard in the bay. They all say it was that crazy man, that Vampire Killer, but, . . . as I understand it you have a different opinion of the crime.”

He looks at her with renewed interest, “Oh.”

Beside her Agatha fidgets, owing to the fact she had strongly disagreed going to find this doctor from Arkham – whom they knew nothing about.

“Oh, sorry, this is my friend, Agatha Morrowfeld.” Kimberly now introduces her and the doctor waves slightly at Agatha.

Agatha gives him a frozen smile.

“I’m terribly sorry bout your friend, Kimberley.”

“Like I said, I just – well, I don’t think the police have this at all right and so – I would like to talk to you if you don’t mind.”

“Kimberley, I’ve already told the police all I know . . . “

Agatha looks up with smug smile, “Told you he would say that.”

“Well,” she looks around and then leans forward to whisper, “Then can I tell you all that I know.”

Dr. Artemis’ seems puzzled, “And what do you know about it?”

The night clerk, stepping closer to the front desk picks up some odd papers and begins to sort through them, glancing in their direction, as he tried to listen.

The doctor notices the clerk rustling some papers and he gives him a meaningful look before he motions Kimberly and Agatha toward the front of the Inn’s lobby, “Yes, perhaps we should sit over there, shall we?”

They walk over to the chairs and have a seat.

“So, did you see anything that night, Kimberley?”

Kimberly is a bit nervous, “I – well I have never done anything like this you know, looking into a murder – but Vivica was my roommate you see, and well although we weren’t like best friends, we were friendly, and she was my roommate after all and so when I read the account of her murder in the newspaper, I just knew it wasn’t right, you know and so I just had to do something about it.”

“Go all Nancy Drew—she means.”” Agatha offers.

“You see doctor, Vivica would have never gone off with that guy. And so, when I heard—I heard you think that this singer over at the Whale, this Alison Drew, was involved, I knew I just needed to come to you. I mean that is what you think, correct?”

“Guy? What guy?”

“Hmm, so, maybe for all we know you’re the guy.” Agatha says and from her seemingly cavernous book bag she suddenly withdraws a long, slender flashlight and she turns it on—the high beam directed straight in the doctor’s face. “Very tricky of you, trying to defect attention to the other Guy—“ She looks over at Kimberly, “You know, from what I hear, they were friends.” There is something very shifty about this Doctor from Arkham.

“What Guy!” He asks putting his hand up to ward off the bright light.

“What’s his name – the one that was arrested for the murders.” Agatha Morrowfeld sighs – and this is the man Kimberly thinks is going to be of some major assistance? Going to solve a crime? It’s like he’s forgotten all about the whole thing, even though he was the one who started this whole rumor about the lounge singer to begin with . . . unless, he’ contrived the whole thing to being with – defecting suspicion.

“You mean David Silva?”

Ah, so now he knows the name! Right! Agatha maintains the high beam upon him – something she knows the police did back in the days of real interrogation.

“This Shiva or Silva or whatever they say his name is,” Kimberly grows anxious, “The guy the police have conveniently decided to charge with the murders. ”

“No. I don’t believe he had anything to do with it.”

“The Murders?” Agatha asks holding the bright beam steady. “Why would you say that?”

“Right—David had problems . . .”

Kimberly looks at him now as it seems Agatha was right, he apparently knows this David, and she can’t help feeling Agatha’s eyes cutting to look at her as if to say, I told you so, “Problems? What problems?”

“But no, I do not believe he was truly involved in the crimes.”

Agatha notes he evades the question.

“Well neither do I,” Kimberly nods, “And Doctor, there is something very odd about that woman, that singer, because I have been following her.”

“Following her?” Dr. Artemis says growing more irritated by the moment with the flashlight and this Agatha Morrowfeld, “Will you put that thing away!”

“But doctor, you will not believe what I have found out.”

Agatha Morrowfeld puts the flashlight back in her bag, careful to conceal the purloined book that leaves a sizeable bulge – best not to let this librarian know anything out it. Most likely try and take it way from them . . .

Dr. Artemis tries to look at Kimberly, whom me can barely see, “You say you followed Alison Drew? Kimberley you must not do things like that. It’s far too dangerous.”

“Yes! And—and well, perhaps, but Agatha and Daphne have been helping me so it’s not like I am out investigating her all alone or anything.” She tells him, growing more excited, “But Doctor, you have to know, there is something, something very odd about her.”

“Odd?”

“Do you know she is never around during the day? Ever.”

“Oh, really?” he says rather dryly.

Agatha Morrowfeld sits back with a frown – this is after all America, isn’t it? But then again, it is Maine. Moose law and fishy suspicions. She’s from Boston and on her third catholic academy – and innocent of at least two of the previous accusations – and so, she knows how it is to have people making wild speculations. Even, if they were a friend. “You two do know that she sings at a bar right . . . and last set is late into the morning. She works at an establishment known to serve alcohol . . . you know, demon liquor . . . so like, if she’s possessed I would say in all likelihood it’s more from drugs and alcohol. Rock and roll never dies – so guys, she awakes everyday drugged up and hung over and I wouldn’t be getting out in the day either, “and she crosses her arms with a pout of righteous satisfaction. “I mean, do you know the percentage of serial killers that are women? Really? You’re supposed to be a doctor – a criminologist, or something. “

The doctor looks at her and blinks.

“She stays at this old warehouse they use for a rehearsal studio and she goes in and stays there all day and comes out only at night.”

Dr. Artemis leans foreword, interested, “What warehouse?”

“It is down in the old wharf section of town, there are lots of abandoned old warehouse.”

“Which one?”

“And so, doctor, well this may sound crazy, but I was following her one evening and she turned into this alley and she sort of just – well I – she just seem to fade away.” Kimberly St.-Simone tells him, “She went in; and then, she was gone.”

Dr. Artemis nods, “An optical illusion, Kimberley. The fog.”

“I went into the alley and searched, but she was not there – and that’s odd isn’t it?”

“Listen to the doctor,” Agatha Morrowfeld, “he’s making sense!”

She frowns, did I just say that?

“Now Kimberly, tell me which warehouse is it, the one that Room 2 is using as a rehearsal hall.”

“But, but then okay, on another day I followed her to the Old Brewster Apartments and I saw her looking up at a window on the second floor, and then once again she faded and I swear in like in moments, I saw her up in the window on the second floor.” She looks at him. “I know that sound crazy, but I saw it.”

Dr. Artemis writes down “Old Brewster Apartments”

“And so, Agatha and I – well the next night we watched and when this Reverend left the apartment, we slipped in and looked over the place.”

“Kimberley, focus. The warehouse. What was the name? Or number?”

Agatha Morrowfeld facepalms.

“Oh, the warehouse? It is the old Fenner furniture warehouse down on Wharf Street.”

“Thank you. The doctor says, “Now, this Reverend . . . what did he look like?”

Agatha Morrowfeld,”So should we wait for the police to arrest us, or you want me to use the handcuffs I found in Sister Nicole’s room?”

Dr. Artemis stares at Agatha.

“We sort of broken in doctor — picked the lock.” Kimberly admits.

Agatha Morrowfeld looks at the doctor rather apologetically, “ It was all her idea.”

Dr. Artemis clears throat, ”Hmmm, I don’t need to hear about that.”

Kimberly looks at Agatha, “Nancy Drew would have done the same thing!”

Agatha Morrowfeld, “She forced me with the metaphorical gun of friendship!”

“Well, what are friends for?” He asks

“Yes – exactly.” Kimberly says, only Agatha looks not at this doctor with even more suspicion. Seems this guy is just as likely to break the law as to up hold it, she thinks. And this is Kimberly’s Hero?

“Kimberley, this is far too dangerous for you. I don’t want you to ever do anything like this again. I’ll handle it from here.’ Dr. Artemis tells her, “Now this Reverend—tell me about him.”

‘He is rather tall, dark hair, sort of handsome in a way – I think his name is Trask.”

“Trask? Interesting.”

“He drives a—oh, wait, you will not believe what he has in his apartment!”

Trask? It must be a son, the doctor thinks to himself as he removes his cell phone from his jacket pocket.

“In this old bookcase, he has a frickin’ human head in an old antique glass jar!” Kimberly tells him excitedly, “You can ask Agatha. She saw it too!”

“Hello. Bayview Taxi? I’d like you to send—a human head???”

He looks at her, and then suddenly hears the voice on his cell phone, “ Huh? What? No, I meant—

“Yes, a man’s head.” Kimberly explains.

“He is sort of bald, and not very good-looking; a bit mummified I would say. I don’t think he was all that handsome to begin with.” Agatha adds

“Send you a f**king’ head—f**kin’ smarta**.” And the phone on the other end clicks into silence.

Dr. Artemis sighs very heavily, “Well—I was trying to get a taxi to take you girls home.”

“And Oh, yes, there was this map. A map of some place called Chesuncook Maine, which I have never even heard of.” She tells him, “Actually the map was more like a poster, or a photographic blow up of some hand drawn map that looked as if it had drawn a long time ago. It was up on an easel—like they are studying it for some reason.”

“How long were you were inside the apartment?”

“Maybe 10 minutes—to be honest when we found that head, we just got out of there very fast.”

“I would too.” He agrees with her.

“Plus, well Agatha was worried we would get arrested.”

“Smart girl, Agatha” He tells her, then looks at Kimberly, “But I am more concerned about this Alison Drew and the Reverend. You don’t want to end up like your friend, now do you?”

Kimberly shakes her head, “That’s why I came to see you – since I had heard you thought the police were all wrong about this Silva guy being the killer I figured you would be the best person to tell all this to—I mean I hear you are fairly important in Arkham. Aren’t you?”

“Yes. Fairly.” The doctor says in a not to successful attempt at modesty, “But thank you, Kimberley for bringing this to my attention. I will do what I can. You were very helpful.”

“Oh, please find out what really happened to Vivica.”

“I will do what I can. Now, girls, do you have a way home?”

“Well, we walked over here from the school.”

“And so we can walk back,” Agatha suggests forlornly.

“No, no.” The doctor protests, “If I can’t get you a cab, I will escort you both home.”

“Still walking,” Agatha mutters to herself.

“Oh – well thank you doctor.” Kimberly says cheerfully.

“I just need to have my dinner first. Then we can go.” He tells them, just as Veronica arrives with the doctor’s order. She steps over to the table to places it upon the place setting, and sees him speaking now to two girls.

Dr. Artemis looks at them, “Girls? Have you had dinner yet?”

Kimberly looks at Agatha and smiles, “No, we haven’t.” And she hurries over and has a seat, as she has not eaten in a while.

Dr. Artemis lifts an eyebrow as he watches them sit at the table, “I end up sharing most of my meals with the hungry girls.”

End of Episode Cue Music