A terrible way to die
March 17th (Sunday)
So much has happened in the past week. I can recall some, other bits have been told to me by my companions. I am weary, and will therefore summarize, but try not to leave out the pertinent details.
When last I caught up, I had been attending the Joy Grove Sanitarium, in the hopes of learning more from Edgar Job and Douglas Henslowe. Unfortunately, we unearthed at what its least was fraud and at the most a conspiracy, which led to the dismissal of Dr Keating. According to the bills we were shown during our initial trip to Savannah, Edgar Job’s bills were being covered by the Henslowe Estate. There were several possible reasons for this, and it drew our attention. In the end, we learned that Mrs Henslowe had not agreed to make these payments, but that Dr Keating had somehow altered the billing.
We know not whether Dr Keating did this for purposes of his own research, or because he was instructed/requested to do so by a third party, or something else entirely. Upon discovering the fraud, Dr Teak dimissed Dr Keating, pending an investigation (but certain of his guilt). This action set off two further reactions, both to our detriment.
The first being the situation of Edgar Job’s continued treatment. As his bills were no longer being paid, Dr Teak contacted the State of California (where Edgar Job had been found guilty of murder, but with the proviso of an uncontrollable state of mind) who began making arrangements to have Job transferred back. Following this, despite repeated and varied attempts, I was no longer able to interview Edgar Job. Which was a great loss, as I’m certain there is more to learn from that man.
We have since arranged payment for a few months of his treatment, in the hopes of keeping him in Savannah – at least temporarily. We believe if he returns to California, it is highly possible he’ll simply be executed. I really should follow up with Dr Teak to find out whether the California Attorney General agreed to let him stay under the care of Joy Grove.
The second situation, however, has caused me great inconvenience, and grief. On the morning of Sunday, March 10th, while I had my final unsuccessful trip to the asylum, Howard and Erik decided to pay a visit to Dr Keating, hoping to learn more about his motivations and deceptions. They were met, however, only by his deceased corpse. He was sat in an armchair next to a low table. Upon the table sat an ashtray, a bottle, and a glass.
Further investigation led them to Keating’s notebook, his notes about the interesting case of Job and Henslowe, including a note about the advantage of having Job to corroborate Henslowe’s story (apparently my initial visit to Savannah is mentioned in its pages, as Keating was intrigued by my false story about a cold case being re-opened). They soon came to their senses and contacted me at the hotel, asking me to come and put my forensic skills to use. I warned them not to touch anything and rushed to the house.
Upon my arrival, I went first to examine the body. It was obvious to me that Keating had died in great pain, and I set to work to find the cause. It found me. From inside his mouth a white spider emerged and bit my hand. What follows I blame mostly on a brief hallucination and bout of temporary insanity, really, and my recollection is rather fuzzy.
Erik recognized the spider as a White Hermit – possessing one of the deadliest poisons but usually the inability to pierce skin with its fangs (hence its ability to have killed Keating by biting through the more tender areas of the inner mouth).
It must have been a hallucination, but I swear as it bit me, I saw upon one of those foul, cursed mouths like the one upon Tshombe’s missing breast! Then, not just one, but hundreds of the white spiders began pouring forth!! All I could think of at that moment was sparing the unwitting citizens of this innocent community from the same, pain-wracked death which took Keating. And I could only think of one way to accomplish it – they were too small to trap, they had to be burned!
The comedy of errors which then ensued cost us much. We agreed we had to burn the house down, but it turns out that isn’t as easy as it sounds – particularly when you’ve not done it before, it isn’t your own house, and bored, suburban civilians take note of a stranger’s activity in their neighbor’s home. And while they were quite right to do so, it made our job increasingly difficult. I do think Howard managed to set some measure of fire going before we were forced to flee (how would we ever explain ourselves, really).
But, in the end, although Erik managed to get away, Howard and I were caught by the police, summoned to the scene (who arrived remarkably quickly) and performing their duties rather admirably. I think I could probably have hidden out somewhere, if it weren’t for the poison seeping through my system, threatening to take my life at any moment. Getting arrested at least meant I got the medical attention I so desperately needed. But I was separated from Howard, and it would be several days, only upon our release, until I would see him again.
