November 4th (Sunday) - continued
The nurse, Bethany Hampton, is sent to retrieve
the patient files for us, and we are given records to peruse for both Douglas
Henslowe and Edgar Job. According to the
receipts, Edgar Job’s treatment (at least
initially) was paid for by the Henslowe Estate. Considering the two men claim to be enemies,
the fact takes our interest. Could Mr
Henslowe have paid for them out of some sense of grief, shame, or penitence? There is also a note that Edgar Job has failed to get in touch with George
Avery, a Professor at UCLA. This
might be a potential lead for us, if George could be found and
interviewed.
Along with the files, we
found notes that indicated the esteemed Dr Keaton is writing a book which
features the shared-delusion of the two patients. Could his personal professional interest in
the case convince him to suppress evidence from us, a vital piece of the story,
or have tainted either Henslowe’s or Job’s recollections of the event? The Joy Grove Sanitarium may warrant a second
visit at a later date. Perhaps to visit
the head doctor, Dr Teak, before he retires.
Most helpfully, however,
we found a reference to a date within the patient files. These records indicated that “the incident”
may have occurred on August 13th (1924, of course), which is the
first time we’ve seen or heard a specific date mentioned. We also find that it was in January 1934 that
Douglas Henslowe voluntarily re-admitted himself to the Sanitarium.
Journal
page 7
After an all-too brief
chance to peruse the notes and files, Dr Keaton terminated our visit and
Professor Wolf and I returned to the hotel to compare notes with the
others. Unfortunately, my colleagues’
visit had not proved as productive. Upon
their arrival at the Henslowe Estate, the pair were turned down at the gate for
lack of an invitation. Fortunately,
having acquired just such an invitation from Mr Henslowe himself, we would be
able to make a return trip the next day.
November 5th
(Monday)
Four of us drove off in
the car rental the following morning to the Henslowe Estate (we were missing
the PI, who was under the weather in his room - likely from an overindulgence
of drink). Chastity drove, and Erik –
who had been there before – navigated us successfully there. The weather was muggy, but the mossy trees
were a welcome sight – altogether different from what we see daily in the
capitol. The house itself, however, was
completely unwelcoming, with a six foot wall capped in iron spikes. The iron gateway was eventually opened for
us, by the keeper John Currothers
(and his dogs, which included Bullet, and Spike).
Mr Currothers was an older
man in a threadbare, plaid shirt, who wore big boots (which looked fairly appropriate,
given the aged and neglected state of the grounds). Mr Currothers had also never heard of a Frank
Hickering (which we later understood).
He warns us that there might be gators lurking around (which proved
true, to my dismay). The mansion itself
is a tall, classic plantation house, in a much better state than the rest of
it. The driveway itself was cracked, and
we could see what must have been the keeper’s cottage off to one side (the
third dog, lazing about out front was a strong clue).
All around were ruins and
remains of antebellum buildings, sinking into what was rapidly becoming a
swamp. But the mansion itself was a
large, white building with a greenish hue (no doubt from the moss and mud which
dared creep up its proud visage).
Inside, there was just as much sign of neglect. The gothic entry hall was dark with a worn
rug, which smelled of damp (and cat litter?).
We saw several rooms briefly, given a short and no-nonsense tour, of a
living room, den, dining room, and porch.
Upstairs we would find Mr Henslowe’s bedroom and study, but we were
strictly warned not to bother Mrs Henslowe.
Journal
page 8
We complied with Mr Currothers’
request and made a thorough investigation of Douglas Henslowe’s study. We found little enough of interest, but for a
few stray supplies on and near his desk (all of which, we later determined,
were of importance to finding the journal, through the carefully laid
treasure-hunt Mr Henslowe had set). Eventually,
we determined that the seemingly innocuous group of objects (blue ink and a
dried, stained brush, a ball of twine, a mud-encrusted shovel, a camera with no
film, and a flashlight) were all key to the investigation.
In addition to the prized
discovery, we noted markings in Henslowe’s study (generally where the wallpaper
was peeling) resembling eyes, the evil eye which is said to ward off evil. We expect this is what Douglas meant when he
said we should look for his symbols of protection. None are a proper spell, Otto told us, just a
mark (he certainly does seem to know a bit on the subject, to whatever end.)
As we retrieved the box,
with gators circling in nearby and the rain – which had long ago begun to all –
now falling harder, we decided to make an exit, and retreated to the rented
sedan, with only the briefest of polite goodbyes to Mr Currothers .
Journal
page 9
We hadn’t long left the
drive of the Henslowe Estate, however, when it became clear we were being
followed. I allowed the car plenty of
room to pass, hoping I was wrong, but instead we were met with a hard slam to
the car. Fortunately, only the vehicle
itself was damaged and we escaped (relatively, but for a bump to Erik’s head)
unscathed.
Five men exited the
vehicle, which had now prevented us from driving off. Some were white and some Asian; they wore
Fedoras and vests (dressed down in the heat, no doubt), which showed off an
abundance of unusual tattoos (which Otto later told us seem to be Thai). The rain was sheeting down. They spoke no English to us, but one did
speak in a language none of us knew. One
passed a note to Otto, then they all got back into the car and left.
The note read: “Drop this
case. Go Home.” And was on a torn bit of stationary, which some of my
colleagues later gleaned was of The
Gastonian hotel, here in Savannah.
Leaving the injured Erik behind to rest, and examine our treasure, the
three of us (Chastity, Otto, and myself) booked dinner at The Gastonian to do a
bit of reconnaissance. And to show that
we were undeterred from our course. I
didn’t have time to consider objecting, as we needed to leave almost
immediately, and so we found ourselves enjoying the hospitality of The
Gastonian for an evening out.
Having made little plan,
it was no real surprise that our first few attempts at raising some information
on our terrorists failed. We did learn,
however, that the group had indeed spent some time at the hotel and had now
checked out. Further questioning, and
the probably misuse of my badge once more, gleaned us a bit more information. The group has been seen in Savannah from time
to time over the past couple of years.
When they stay it is generally for 3-6 weeks at a time, and their most
recent stay was funded by a Daniel Loman. The group had checked out this morning, and
had their bags sent on to the Savannah
airport this afternoon. They could
be anywhere by now.
