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What Goes Around, Comes Around Part 1-1 - Introductions



Saturday, April 12, 2014


(After running the Call of Cthulhu Scenario “What Goes Around, Comes Around†by Jeff Moeller from The Resurrected III: Out of the Vault on Sunday, April 6 from 1 p.m. to 5 p.m. with Caitlin Blackmon, James Williams, Kyle Matheson, Logan Scott, Aaron Scott, James Brown, and John Forney)


Mary-Jane Holland was in the hospital for the next few weeks, recuperating from her “hunting accident.†While she was there, she was able to get the Providence Journal. The front page article on July 4, 1925, upset her a little bit. The headline stated: “Shootout in West End Tenement, Murderer assumed still at large.†The article read:



Police responded to a shootout in a West End Tenement building on Rosedale Street

Thursday and found a man missing for almost a week.


At 8:45 p.m., police responded to a report of a man brandishing a firearm and claiming

he was a police officer at 17 Rosedale Street. Two patrol cars were sent to the scene and, when

they arrived, found residents in a high state of alarm.


John Chapin, superintendent of the building, told police that a madman claiming to be a

police officer accosted him at his own apartment. Chapin immediately telephoned police.

Minutes later, numerous gunshots came from the apartment directly above his own, followed

by the sound of violence.


According to Mr. Chapin, the man claiming to be a police officer was accompanied by a

woman with a scar on her face. They asked for someone named Timmons or Simmons.


Police arrived to find apartment number five in ruins. Several bullet holes in the walls

and the stink of gunpowder gave mute testimony to the gun battle that had occurred mere

moments before. No bodies were found in the apartment but a great amount of blood was

on the floor.


Police report that several bullets were obviously fired from at least two parties, many

striking the walls and floor of the apartment. Additionally, the room had been vandalized.


The only man found in the apartment was Jarvis Simmons, the servant of the Brian

Timmons Sr. family of College Hill, who went missing with Brian Timmons Jr. just last week.

Mr. Simmons was reportedly unfit to answer police questions.


Residents report that another man crashed out of the closed window of the second-floor

apartment during the gun battle and fell to the street below, limping off as quickly as possible.


The man who claimed to be a police officer was seen carrying the woman out of the building

just before police arrived. They reportedly fled in a Ford Model T sedan.


On June 27, Police responded to an anonymous telephone call to the farm on Washington

Road, Woonsocket. They found a desiccated corpse in one of the rooms of the house. The body

has not yet been identified by police.


The house is owned by Brian Timmons, who was released Saturday from Holmes Sanitarium

in Providence. No sign of Mr. Timmons has been seen since.


On June 28, two Woonsocket police officers at the Woonsocket house of Brian Timmons were

found dead. The two officers had been staking out the farm after a corpse was found there June 27

by police. Timmons is suspected.


Timmons reportedly stole both .38 pistols of the murdered policemen. Both weapons were

recovered in the apartment on Rosedale Street. A manhunt conducted June 28 near the farm that

Timmons owns discovered Timmons’ Cadillac Suburban by a squatter’s shed near the Branch River.


Police also think there might be a connection between Timmons and a grave robbery that took

place on June 2. The grave, located in the oldest part of a cemetery in Woonsocket, has not yet been



Brian Timmons is described as 27 years old, 5’11†tall, 180 pounds with brown hair and brown

eyes. He was last seen wearing a blue suit and black tie.


Anyone with information on the whereabouts of Brian Timmons is asked to contact the Providence

Police Department, Woonsocket Police Department, Providence County Sheriff’s Department, or the

Rhode Island State Police.



She was released from the Hospital in late July and was relieved to get home.


On Tuesday, July 28, Detective Malloy of the Woonsocket Police Department telephoned her and asked if he could talk to her for a few minutes. She said he could and he arrived at her apartment early that afternoon. She let him in and he said he hoped she was well and asked if he could take a seat.


He took something small and metallic out of his pocket and put it on the coffee table. It was a small, misshapen piece of metal.


“That’s the bullet they pulled out of you, Miss Holland,†he said.


Her eyes widened.


“I took the trouble to check it against the two .38 pistols that were found in the room where Jarvis Simmons was found,†he went on. “I was a little surprised that it matched one of the guns.â€


He looked at her for a moment.


“Where is Brian Timmons, Miss Holland?†he asked.


“I have no idea,†she replied.


“Look, at this juncture I have not shared this information with the Providence Police,†he said, “but we need to find Mr. Timmons because we know, or are fairly certain that he has committed several murders.â€


“Why are you here questioning me, anyway?†she said. “I was just shot, for God’s sake.â€


“Yes. You were shot from one of the two guns that was found in the room where Mr. Simmons was found, who had been hypnotized or something by Mr. Timmons. You know he was in an asylum for a week, don’t you?â€


“Of course I do.â€


“No, I mean Mr. Simmons. The butler.â€




“They had to have him committed, he was so jangled up upstairs.â€




“Yes. Apparently Mr. Timmons had him under some kind of hypnotic control, from what we could piece together.â€


“Hypnotic control?â€


“Uh … not my words, Miss.â€


“Oh. I have no idea where he is.â€






He sighed.


“If you have any contact with Mr. Timmons, please contact us,†he said.


“I will. But I can’t guarantee anything,†she said.


“I understand. But if you do think of anything, I would appreciate it greatly. We really want to bring this murderer to justice.â€


“Yes, yes, I know.â€


“I know sometimes there are fallings outs amongst criminals. I don’t know what might have happened in that room but I know you were there.â€


“Are you calling me a criminal?â€


“I’m just saying that certain things sometimes happen.â€


“Well, I say that your implication is preposterous. Get out of my house.â€


“Very well. I’ll be wanting to talk to Mr. McKeefe about this too.â€


He stood up and she saw him out of her apartment. She sat back down, somewhat shaken, when another knock came at her door. She listened at the door but there was no sound in the hallway outside. She put the chain on the door and then opened it.


Outside stood her next-door neighbor, William H Pendergast IV. He was a good-looking young man in his mid-twenties. She had met him when he had done some graduate work at Brown after going to Harvard. He was originally from Ohio and his family was very, very wealthy. She knew that he had a great deal of money as well. From what she had gathered from the young man, he enjoyed Providence so much while he was attending Brown that he had decided to live there as long as he could. He had been out of town the last few weeks, Mary-Jane had learned from her nosy neighbor, Mrs. Burke, off to New York City for some kind of family business.


He was holding a small bouquet of flowers and had a card.


“Mary-Jane, oh yes, I’d heard that you’d been in the hospital!†he said. “I thought I’d bring you some flowers and I got you a little card.â€


She unchained the door and let him in.


“Yes, do you have a vase?†he asked.


“Sure,†she said.


He put the flowers in water while she looked at the card. It was very quaint. He told her he’d heard she was in the hospital from Mrs. Burke.


“Strange things have been going on around here,†he said, looking at her. “Mrs. Burke said that that fellow who lives in the basement came running out of your apartment, screaming, a few weeks ago. Just shrieking at the top of his lungs.â€


He made a dramatic squeal.


“She was terrified!†he said.


“Well … I’ve been involved in a little research lately and maybe he had a nightmare or something, I don’t know,†she said


“He had a nightmare? Was he sleeping here?â€




“It just sounds so strange. Just very strange.â€


“Yes, well …â€


“What are you researching?â€


“I’m researching a bit into the occult.â€




“So that might have been, you know how people get.â€


He looked at her carefully again.


“You know, something strange happened just … well, it was actually quite a long time ago,†he said. “I know a fellow, his name is Robert McCorkindale, lives up in Charing Cross, where I went to college, Charing Cross College? Where I got my undergraduate? I went there for two years actually. Anyway, his wife was murdered a couple years ago, they say, very strange, and he seems very upset about it, a very strange situation.â€


“Murdered, you say?†she said.


“Yes. I don’t know. He’s looking for someone to look into it. I’m looking to hire a private investigator. I found a fellow downtown, name of Tyrone Bryan or Brian Tyrone. I don’t remember his name.â€


“Right. Indeed. Yes.â€


Then he brought up McKeefe running screaming from her apartment again.


“What kind of occult things are you reading?†he asked.


“Well, it’s─†she started.


“That’s a very nice vase you have up there,†he suddenly said, pointing at the jar she’d gotten from Douglas Timmons’ laboratory.


“Yes, it’s very nice, but, you know, just the normal occult things.â€


“Normal occult?â€




“You’re such a card!â€


“When you’re in my occupation, everything seems to be running together. I’m sure it was just a nightmare or something.â€


“All right. All right. I wish the man well. He seems awfully shady to me but … he’s a good drinking buddy. We go drinking sometimes.â€


“He’s good, all in all.â€


They made a little more casual conversation and he left.


* * *


Tyler Bryan was a private investigator. He was good-looking and 31 years old and stood about six feet tall. A veteran of the Great War, he always wore a nice suit, tie, and fedora. He actually had a Harvard law degree and had a small shop on one of the back streets Downtown, living in one of the apartments above his detective agency. He owned an automobile as well and usually carried a 1911 .45 semi-automatic pistol. He kept a Thompson sub-machinegun and a 30.06 rifle in his apartment.


On Tuesday, July 28, 1925, the door to his office opened and William H. Pendergast IV walked in. He had met Pendergast before, usually as the man went window shopped downtown. Pendergast told him that he had a friend up in New Hampshire whose wife was murdered about a year ago, he thought. He was not sure of the details.


“A year ago?†Bryan said.


“I don’t remember,†Pendergast said. “I don’t know all of the details.â€


He gave Bryan the name Robert McCorkindale and noted that he was going to the trouble of finding a private investigator for the man. However, he didn’t know any more details than that.


Weird that he’d wait a whole year, Bryan thought.


“It’s Charing Cross, New Hampshire,†Pendergast said.


He noted that the man wanted to hire someone to help him out.


“Of course,†Bryan said.


“If you want to contact him, feel free,†Pendergast said. “If you could help him, that’d be great. I might even throw a bonus in.â€


After Pendergast left, Bryan got an operator on the telephone and was soon connected to Robert McCorkindale. The man sounded jittering on the other side of the line. He was obviously very upset.


“Yes, this is Robert McCorkindale,†the nervous voice on the other side of the line said.


Bryan introduced himself.


“That’d be Billy,†McCorkindale said. “Billy Pendergast, right?â€


“Yes,†Bryan replied.


“Yeah, I was telling him I was trying to find somebody to help me out. It’s … it’s been almost … it’s been a year and the police aren’t doing anything. I need some help. Can you come up here and talk to me about this?â€




“I’m willing to pay. I’m willing to pay. The police are not doing anything. They’re a waste. They’re … yeah. Any help you can give me.â€


“Of course, of course.â€


“I appreciate it.â€


It took Bryan a while to get off the phone with the man even after they had arranged to meet on July 30. McCorkindale seemed to be one of those people who didn’t know how to end a conversation.


* * *


Doctor Sir Carl Huxtable was British. He was only 26 years old but had already gotten a Ph.D. in history and psychology in England. He had taught at Brown University in Providence for about a year and was the youngest member of the faculty. He was very tall, wore his hair short but sported a very thick mustache, and wore a monocle on his left eye as it was a little weak. He wore a three-piece suit and a polka-dotted bow tie, and he always tried to look older to be taken seriously. Though he was very well educated, Dr. Huxtable was not terribly smart and had worked very, very hard to get his degrees and his position at Brown. He compensated by being boastful of his great intellect. He had a house in the Fox Point Neighborhood south of the college.


He had known William H. Pendergast IV as the youth had taken one of his classes at Brown the year before and was pleasantly surprised when the man showed up in his office that day. They chatted for some time before Pendergast brought up a strange murder that had taken place a year or so before in New Hampshire. He noted that he had mentioned it to a friend of his, Mary-Jane Holland.


“Mary-Jane, of course!†Dr. Huxtable said.


“Oh, you know her, Doctor?†Pendergast said.


“I know Mary-Jane.â€


“It’s a shame what happened to her face though.â€


“So bad, yes.â€


They both shook their heads.


“I told her about that,†Pendergast went on. “I thought she might be interested because she said some very strange, occult things had been happening in her house.â€


“I used her to do some research, she was very bright,†Dr. Huxtable said.


“Yes yes yes. She seems interested in the occult. Very strange.â€




“A man ran screaming from her apartment one afternoon. Very strange. That’s what I heard.â€


“Thank you for bringing that information to me.â€


“Not at all. Not at all.â€


* * *


Angus Silversmith was a prospector from Mississauga, Toronto, Canada. He towered at over 6’2†tall and was lanky for his height. He had traveled his whole life and his skin was worn with repeated sunburns in his 34 years of life. He wore a dusty and worn green fishing cap, complete with hooks. He didn’t own a fishing pole. He seemed to be completely covered with dust, especially his worn boots. He carried a large, sturdy backpack wherein he kept all his earthly possessions, including two shovels, several pans, a sifter, and several bottles of moonshine, along with a second set of clothes. He usually lived on a bench in one of the parks in the city.


He had known William H. Pendergast IV for about a month and told the young man stories about prospecting. Then the young dilettante would give him a dollar or buy him a meal. He’d even given him $10 bills from time to time, so Silversmith had been eating well and could even afford, if he wanted, a room in a flophouse or something. However, Pendergast had been gone for the last couple of weeks so Silversmith found himself sleeping on a park bench again. Luckily, it had been a dry summer.


On July 28 around dinnertime, Pendergast found him in the park he preferred.


“Oh, Mr. Silversmith, oh!†Pendergast said when he saw him. “I haven’t been in town. How are you doing?â€


“Oh, I’m …†Silversmith said.


“You look … have you not been eating?â€




“Let’s go get a meal. Come on. Come on.â€


“Oh yes.â€


Pendergast took him to a diner where he bought him a meal. Silversmith had not eaten in two days and wolfed down the sandwich.


“Keep them coming!†Pendergast called to the waitress.


He chatted with the man and brought up the murder that had happened a year ago in New Hampshire.


“Murder?†Silversmith said. “I believe I read that on my pillow.â€


He was making a joke about the newspapers that he used to cover himself at night.


“Really?†Pendergast said, confused.


“Yes. Newspaper,†Silversmith replied.


“Oh, that’s a joke!†Pendergast said.


He laughed loudly.


“Oh, that’s so clever!†he said.


“It is?†Silversmith said.


“An investigator friend of mine is going to go up there and investigate it. That Bryan fellow with the shop downtown. You know who I’m talking about?â€


“Bryan fellow?â€


“He’s got a big window in the front and there’s a like a crudely drawn man who looks like he’s got a fedora and he’s got a smoking gun in his hand.â€


“Oh yeah, that window.â€


“It says ‘I will solve your case for you’ or something like that. I don’t know.â€


“Right, right.â€


“Maybe that was another place I was thinking of.â€


* * *


Manfred Donald had decided to eat out that night.


He was a stuntman by profession, or at least he wanted to be. He was from Ontario, Canada, and had actually come to Providence under the misapprehension that they made motion pictures there. He had gotten a year-long lease on an apartment in Downtown Providence in January before he’d realized his mistake, so was working as a waiter and doing theater in the city until his lease was up and he could move west. He was 28 years old and good-looking, standing almost six feet tall. His hair was already salt and pepper, despite his young age, and he was clean-shaven though had a five o’clock shadow. He dressed like a cowboy and wore jeans and a button up shirt and vest. He also wore a cowboy hat and actually owned and knew how to use a bullwhip.


When he entered the little diner, he spotted Angus Silversmith having dinner with William H. Pendergast IV. He knew both of them.


“Manfred!†Angus said to him between bites of food.


The man waved.


“Oh, come join us,†Pendergast said. “We’re having dinner!â€


“Well, if you insist,†Donald replied.


“Of course!†Pendergast said.


Donald had known Pendergast for a few months and liked the young man. He never let others pay the check either, so was a joy to dine with.


While they ate, Pendergast related the story he’d just told Silversmith, about the man’s wife murdered in a small town in new Hampshire.


“It sounds very interesting,†Silversmith said.


“Whoa,†Donald said.


Pendergast also mentioned that the private investigator Tyler Bryan was going to take the case.


“You know, it sounds like a whole group’s going up there,†Pendergast said.


“Yeah, I’m looking for work, so …†Silversmith said.


“Well, there you are,†Pendergast said.


“Yeah. I should join this expedition.â€


“Let’s go to Bryan’s office. Maybe he’ll hire you on. Well, there’s Bryan right there!â€


He pointed to the door of the diner, where Tyler Bryan had just entered. Pendergast waved him over to their table and introduced him to the other two men.


“This is Tyler Bryan,†he said. “This is Angus Silversmith. He’s a prospector. He’s got some amazing stories about gold. And that’s Manfred Donald and he wants to break into the moving pictures, is what he told me. Isn’t it? Isn’t that what you’re doing?â€


“Yes,†Donald said.


“But he’s practicing here,†Pendergast said. “Or something. I’m a little confused on that.â€


“Yes, my information was a little … wrong, eh,†Donald said.


“I told him about McCorkindale’s case up in New Hampshire,†Pendergast went on. “And they’re both looking for work right now, so maybe you could hire them on.â€


“Are you looking for any hired hands?†Silversmith asked.


“Could use muscle,†Bryan said. Then to Silversmith. “But if I hire you on, good sir, you’re going to have to take a bath.â€


“If you’ve got the bathtub, eh,†Silversmith said with a grin.


Bryan hired the two men to help out.


“Sure, I’ll do you a favor,†Bryan said to Pendergast.


“Well, you might want to contact Miss Mary-Jane Holland,†Pendergast said. “She’s an expert in the occult, I hear.â€


He also noted there was a professor at Brown University who might be interested in the case. He gave them the name Doctor Carl Huxtable.


“He’s told me many times, he’s one of the brightest minds of England,†Pendergast told him. “He said he was knighted for his bright mind. He speaks so slowly though. I think it’s because every word is so important.â€


After dinner, Bryan took the two men back to his apartment where Silversmith could get cleaned up.


* * *


Mary-Jane Holland’s telephone rang after she had eaten dinner that night.


“Yes, hello?†she answered.


“This is Tyler Bryan,†the voice said on the other side of the line said. “I’m a private investigator. Your friend, Pendergast─â€


“Yes, Mr. Pendergast.â€


“─told me that you are interested in the occult.â€


“Well … I do know about it. My field is really in anthropology but I could help you are looking for information on the occult.â€


“Very well, is it okay if I could come by and speak to you in the next 20 minutes or so?â€


“Yes, it’s apartment number 5,†she said.


She also gave him the street address in the Wayland neighborhood.


* * *


Bryan drove over to Wayland with Silversmith and Donald. They found the correct address and he parked in front of the two-story apartment building on Medway Street and went in with Donald. Silversmith waited in the automobile. As soon as the men left him, Silversmith took one of the mason jars out of his backpack. It was filled with a clear liquid: moonshine. He sipped on it as he waited.


Apartment 5 was on the second floor, facing the front of the building. Bryan knocked on the door.


“Come in,†a voice called from within.


Bryan opened the door and saw a small but neat apartment. There was a small living room with a kitchen off to one side. Another door apparently led to a small bedroom and a third to a private little bathroom. Windows were open on one side and a warm breeze blew into the place. A small bookshelf held several books and atop it was some kind of large antique glass bottle.


He heard a noise behind him and, looking over his shoulder, saw the door across the hall open just a crack. A woman peeked out and then closed the door again.


Nosy neighbors, he thought.


“Watch the hall,†Bryan said to Donald before he went in.


He left the man in the hall behind him.


The young woman who stood in the middle of the room might have been very pretty aside from a terrible scar that started at her right eyebrow and ran down her cheek. The stitches that had been used to heal it, probably years before, had left a nasty scar that went almost to her jaw.


He closed the door behind him.


“Have a seat,†she said.


He sat on the couch near a coffee table.


“So …†she said.


“So, I’ve been hired for this … odd … case,†he replied. “I … I’ve never been hired to investigate a murder a year after it happened.â€


“Yes, you must be talking about Mr. Pendergast’s friend.â€






“Yes, it’s very strange.â€


“Well, he said─â€


“There was talk about a strange death. I was wondering if someone who knew about the occult could help me in this. He told you about what happened with the murder. It’s very … I won’t be able to examine the scene because it’s a year old.




“I don’t know what they missed … I don’t know. It will be very interesting. I’ve never had a case like this. I was wondering if you could help me with your expertise.â€


“Yes. Since Pendergast is a friend of mine, I could help you out. I’ll look into it.â€


“Very well. Thank you.â€


He stood and opened the door.


* * *


Just before the door opened, Donald saw the door across the hall from the apartment Bryan had gone into open a crack for a moment and then close.


Then Bryan opened the door.


“This is my associate … what is your name again, sir?†he said to Donald.


“Manfred Donald,†the man said.


“Nice to meet you Manfred,†Miss Holland said.


“Nice to meet you, Miss …†Donald replied.


“Yes yes yes,†Bryan said.


“Mary-Jane,†Miss Holland replied.


“Miss Mary-Jane,†Donald said.


He tipped his hat.


Bryan put his own hat back on.


“Where did this murder happen again?†she asked.


“The murder is in Charing Cross,†Bryan said. “I’ll book tickets on the train. I could get you one if you so desire.â€


“Sure,†she replied. “That sounds swell. When are you leaving?â€


“Tomorrow morning.â€


“I will meet you tomorrow morning at the station then.â€


“I could come get you, ma’am, if you would so desire, in the morning.â€


“That sounds great.â€


He said he’d pick her up at 8 a.m.


He and Donald left, going by Union Station and getting tickets for the 9:00 train that would take them to Oakdale, Massachusetts on the New York, New Haven and Hartford Railroad. From there, they would transfer to the Boston and Maine Railroad, which ran through Charing Cross, N.H.


When he parked his Cadillac Series 314 Tourer on the street in front of his office around 8:30 p.m., he found a man in a tweed suit out in front. The man looked quite dapper and had a large mustache and a monocle over one eye. He was constantly checking his golden pocket watch. Bryan got out of his automobile and approached the man, leaving Donald and Silversmith in the machine.


“Sir Tyler Bryan, I assume,†the man said. His accent was British.


Bryan looked at him.


“Funny business this, funny business this,†Dr. Huxtable said. “Minding my own day I was, today. Beautiful day as it was, and Sir William Pendergast came to me, telling me of a murder that had not been solved in quite some time. I went along my business but … it troubled me. This murder that our law enforcement could not solve. So, I thought to myself ‘A bright mind of England could solve this crime!’


“I called Mr. Pendergast and he tells me that he has hired you!†he went on and then looked at his pocket watch again. “Funny, funny business this! So, I have already bought my train ticket. And I will accompany you. Good day, sir!â€


Bryan watched as the man turned and walked away. He had no idea who the man was. He stood there, perplexed, and shaking his head.


The man passed his automobile and appeared to notice the two men within. Bryan saw that they were passing a mason jar back and forth to each other.


“This is why I’m accompanying you!†the British man called back to Bryan.


Bryan saw Donald take a mason jar from Silversmith and take a sip, then make a face. He handed it back and the other man sealed the lid back on the jar. Bryan went back to the automobile.


“Hey, do you care if I sleep in the back of your car tonight?†Silversmith asked him.


He just gestured for the men to follow him and then led them to a door next to the door to his office. Steps led up from it to his apartment. It was very small with a Murphy bed against the wall, a small bathroom, and cupboards and counters on one side where a hot plate sat. The windows looked out onto the street below. He pointed at the loveseat in the room and gave Silversmith a couple of blankets.


Donald headed back to his apartment.


* * *