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A search for the truth, a new ally, a confrontation from the past...
Malevolent follows Arkham Investigator Arthur Lester as he unravels the mysterious circumstances that have befallen him.
In New York city, Arthur plans to help the Widow Marie in finding her sister through any means necessary. Though the city is a somewhat familiar one to Arthur, it feels brand new without his once precious sight. He must use his investigative know-how and once practiced skills to find out exactly where his target has gone and in the process may confront some painful truths.
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PART 33 - THE FATHER
Transcript made by Teakettle, KM, and jack!
CWs: Assault, discussions of murder/captivity/possession, mentions of alcoholism, mention of religious trauma, discussions of past child/spouse death, familial trauma, sounds of death (blood), gunshots
(BEGIN Part 33.)
(Falling rain, thunder, and a melancholy piano melody. Arthur hums as they walk: ‘You Call It Madness’. Occasional sounds of the city – distant conversations and car horns – are audible.)
JOHN: What is that?
ARTHUR: What?
JOHN: The song you’re humming.
ARTHUR: Oh. Um. (He sighs.) What’s it called… uh, it escapes me now.
JOHN: It’s… familiar.
ARTHUR: To you, even?
JOHN: Yes.
ARTHUR: Odd.
JOHN: Why is that odd?
ARTHUR: Oh, aside from the obvious reasons, you mean?
JOHN: The obvious reasons?
ARTHUR: John.
JOHN: I was in the hospital for a month while you lay in a coma. Do you not remember? I could’ve heard it on the radio.
ARTHUR: Yes, only… you’ve mentioned you recognized it before then.
JOHN: Did I?
ARTHUR: Yes. It was just after we met.
JOHN: But that’s the… obvious reason.
ARTHUR: Yes.
JOHN: So what was the ‘aside from’?
ARTHUR: Well, I don’t know. I… I was a bit… maybe concerned. That you’d… become forgetful, as of late.
JOHN: Forgetful?
ARTHUR: No, it’s… it’s silly. A subconscious fear that surfaced during a night of restless sleep. Look. You just recalled something I had nearly forgotten. I’m being obtuse. Ignore me.
JOHN: Subconscious fear.
ARTHUR: Yes. (He sighs.) It’s foolish. (The sound of rain fades away.) Look! It seems like the rain has let up.
JOHN: Yes. No sign of the community center. (Children play in the background.) But what was it called, again? Saint… Jean Baptiste?
ARTHUR: Yes. Oscar, I, uh… I suppose he’s a priest of sorts.
JOHN: Who does special services for those not able to make regular churchgoing hours?
ARTHUR: Yes. It’s… reasonable. Probably quite common in a populated area such as this. They want to cast a wide net.
JOHN: They?
ARTHUR: You know. The-The church. Many sick and otherwise may be unable to make the early morning Sunday services.
JOHN: I suppose there’s no need to be coy with Oscar when we arrive. Might as well come right out with it. Right?
ARTHUR: I suppose so. Although…
JOHN: Mm?
ARTHUR (high-pitched, thoughtful): Well. (Normally. A quick-paced piano melody begins.) Oftentimes I would let my potential lead or witness lie, a little bit, before revealing my knowledge.
JOHN: Why?
ARTHUR: Well. You get a good sense of how well they can lie. (A car struggles to start in the background.) It’s like… learning to read a bluff. It can help if they try and lie again.
JOHN: I see.
ARTHUR: For example. If we ask him if he knows Marie, he would most likely, given their relationship, attempt to distance himself from her. And since we know he just saw her this morning, it’ll be a good measure…
JOHN: Of how well he lies and for what reasons.
ARTHUR: Exactly.
JOHN: Fair. Well, then. We’ll let him… lead the conversation.
ARTHUR: Yes.
JOHN: And we reveal what we know after.
ARTHUR: Yes. Trapping him, a little bit. Then there’s a small power dynamic switch. You know, we’ve revealed that we know he’s lied. It makes it more difficult for him to do it again, or at least, he’ll think about doing it again. Because he knows that he was caught.
JOHN: Interesting.
ARTHUR: Then, hopefully he shares all he knows with us. You know, because he trusts us.
JOHN: And if he doesn’t?
ARTHUR: Well, then, we could bluff, make it seem like it could be worse for him than it already is… lie about other people being involved, things of that nature.
JOHN: Right.
ARTHUR: Or we could try to intimidate him. But that was more Parker’s route, though.
JOHN: Intimidate?
ARTHUR: Well, you know. Physically.
JOHN: You mean hit him?
ARTHUR: Sometimes, yes. Scare him a little bit. Sometimes Parker would… hit a wall or break an object. Or, yes, sometimes smack him around a little bit.
JOHN: Well.
ARTHUR: I’m-I’m getting off topic. Look, this won’t be the case. He’ll know we’re here for Marie and most likely, he’ll want to help. I think he wants to be rid of this.
JOHN: Time to find out.
ARTHUR: We’re here? (He stops walking.)
JOHN: Saint Jean Baptiste Community Center.
ARTHUR: Huh. Then let’s find this Oscar. (He pushes open a door. Inside is the clatter of dishware and muffled conversations. A slow piano melody begins.)
JOHN: It’s a large dining hall. Tables with empty seats, mostly. Save a few here and there.
ARTHUR (sniffing): I can smell the food.
JOHN: There are a few people drinking out of bowls.
ARTHUR: It’s a soup kitchen.
JOHN (not understanding): A soup… kitchen.
ARTHUR: Yes, it’s… uh, a concept that came over with the Irish after the Great Famine. It’s just a way to help feed the poor. The church must be helping out in whatever way it can.
JOHN: It seems like it.
ARTHUR: I wonder if we can find Oscar in this, though. Do you see any… clergy? Anyone wearing a priestly garb?
JOHN: No, mainly just women spooning out the soup. The line isn’t very long, either. Looks as though they’ve maybe just opened?
ARTHUR: Hm. What about a back room? Or maybe a hallway leading off?
JOHN: One to the right of a small stage, yes.
ARTHUR (quietly): Okay. (He starts to walk.) Maybe there’s an office or some place he could be. Assuming he runs this place, let’s head there.
JOHN: Here.
ARTHUR: Brilliant. (Arthur pushes open a door. The dishware and conversations quiet, replaced by the incandescent hum of lights. One flickers.)
JOHN: It’s a dimly lit hallway with a flickering light at one end. There are a number of rooms leading to both the left and the right, and a door at the end.
ARTHUR: Well. A bit of trial and error, I suppose. (He slowly walks, footsteps echoing, and opens a door.)
JOHN: Kitchen.
ARTHUR: Okay. (Door shuts. He walks, opens another door.)
JOHN: Closet.
ARTHUR: Right. (Door shuts. He walks, opens another door.)
JOHN: Storage.
ARTHUR: Well, what’s the difference? Between a closet and a storage?
JOHN: The first had clothes.
ARTHUR: Fine. (Door shuts. He walks, opens another door.)
JOHN: Office.
OSCAR: Hello?
JOHN: And our man.
OSCAR: Hello, can I help you?
ARTHUR: Hello! (The door shuts.) Sorry. You must be Oscar.
OSCAR: Yes? And you?
ARTHUR: My name is… Parker. (Wooden furniture squeaks.)
OSCAR: How can I help you, Parker?
ARTHUR: Y-You know, I wanted to speak with you privately. This… This is quite the place you have here. Through the church.
OSCAR (clearing his throat): Sadly not as busy as we’d hoped, out there.
ARTHUR: No?
OSCAR: I’m sure you’ve noticed. It’s unseasonably warm for this time of year.
ARTHUR: Yes, the rain!
OSCAR: Should be piles of snow. Though I’m happy for the warmer weather, as I know a lot of the less fortunate are as well.
ARTHUR: Well, you do what you can.
OSCAR: Yes, of course. And what is it you do? Parker, was it?
ARTHUR: Yes. (A pause.) I’m a private investigator. (Brief suspenseful string music plays.)
OSCAR: Well.
JOHN: The color just drained from his face.
OSCAR: I’m not entirely sure what I can help with. I… I don’t have any information, if that’s what you’re interested in –
ARTHUR (interrupting, upbeat): I haven’t said what subject I may be inquiring about yet! Have I?
OSCAR: No, no. B-But I, there’s a great deal of things that I…
ARTHUR: There’s no reason to be nervous, Oscar. I’m here in a friendly capacity. Worry not.
OSCAR: Right.
JOHN: He does not look relaxed.
ARTHUR: Do you know… uh, Marie?
OSCAR: Marie. No, that name doesn’t sound too familiar – (JOHN (interrupting): He’s lying!) There’s many people in our – in our flock. Thousands on certain days. (He clears his throat.)
JOHN: He’s lying!
ARTHUR: Maybe I’m wrong, then. I… thought you were the Oscar she told me about.
OSCAR: Oh! (Flustered.) Oh, Marie, yes. Yes. Well. You know, I usually address her as Ms. Pilon, so.
ARTHUR: Yes, quite. Well, she’s asked me to touch base with you, actually. In finding her sister.
(A slow piano melody begins.)
OSCAR: Of course, of course. I told her I’d help her, but… I’ve not done much, yet.
ARTHUR: You have a photo, I believe.
OSCAR: Yes, take it! It’s-It’s yours. Here.
JOHN: We need to find out more about Scratch! About this whole situation.
OSCAR (overlapping): So you’re helping Marie, then. And… I hope you find her, I do. I-I haven’t even begun, so I’m afraid I’m-I’m not much help. So if you – if you excuse me, I’d appreciate it.
ARTHUR: Oscar. (Oscar sighs.) If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love a little more information. Not just about Marie’s sister… but about the thing that seems to… inhabit her.
JOHN: He’s frozen.
OSCAR: I… I have no idea what you’re referring to.
ARTHUR: Is that so? (Low, ominous music begins.)
OSCAR: Yes.
JOHN: He’s not playing ball, Arthur! What-What should we do? Did you want to bluff him? O-Or like you mentioned, intimidate! Which?
(Footsteps.)
ARTHUR: Look, Oscar. Marie told me everything.
OSCAR: What do you mean?
ARTHUR: She told me about her husband, Oscar. She told me about his death.
(Rising suspenseful music.)
OSCAR (frightened): What?! Why?
ARTHUR: She told me about how you helped her cover it up.
OSCAR: No.
JOHN: Yes, Arthur! Bluff!
ARTHUR: How you aided her in a crime.
OSCAR: I’ve never heard of –
ARTHUR: She told me more than you realize, Oscar.
OSCAR: I don’t know wha –
ARTHUR: But you didn’t think it through, Oscar. There are more pieces to this now, more threads that you’ve forgotten about.
OSCAR: I am not speaking –
ARTHUR: Marie, Oscar. She’s run out of options. She’s turned to me. And next… maybe the police. (Furniture squeaks.)
OSCAR (alarmed): The police? She’d be mad to –
ARTHUR: Mad to tell the police she’s killed her husband? Of course! Of course, of course. But will she say she killed her husband?
OSCAR: What!?
ARTHUR: Who will they believe more? A trusted, matronly landlord? Or a priest with a drinking problem?
OSCAR: She would never.
ARTHUR: What? Murder her husband? Tell another soul about it? Because I am here before you disproving both of those fallacies.
JOHN (darkly): You have him.
OSCAR (whispering): What do you want?
(Slow footsteps.)
ARTHUR: To help, Oscar. (Hopeful piano begins to play.) I’m not here to make things more difficult, despite what you may think. I’m here to make things easier.
OSCAR: All of what you just said –
ARTHUR: Need never be the case if we find Hattie.
OSCAR: You’re a real investigator.
ARTHUR: You’re damn straight.
OSCAR: From around here?
ARTHUR: Arkham.
OSCAR (thoughtful): Huh.
ARTHUR (insistent): Now help me. Tell me what you know about Scratch.
OSCAR: How did you learn that name?
JOHN: So he did use that name. He didn’t get it from your subconscious, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Look, I have seen my fair share of… oddities.
OSCAR: Not like this. Not like him.
ARTHUR (placating): Okay, okay. Let’s start from the beginning. Where did you first meet him?
OSCAR: Meet him? You make it sound like a chance encounter. He… he’s… waiting for people. Waiting for anyone –
ARTHUR: Okay, okay. Tell me.
OSCAR: I knew Marie through the church. (A low piano melody begins to play.) She was a sweet woman. Her husband was a…good man as well. But soon she stopped showing up with him. She seemed more and more distraught, over time, more and more… put out. Eventually I asked about her, asked about her… husband. Asked if I could help. A decision I will forever regret.
ARTHUR: And?
OSCAR: And she brought me home. And showed me her husband. At the time I was convinced he was possessed by some demonic spirit. I even tried bringing it up in the church… have someone… exorcise the demon but… every time I tried to act on it, he would wake up completely normal.
ARTHUR: Wake up? He was sleeping?
OSCAR: Aye, o-only when he was sleeping.
ARTHUR: Did he remember? What was he like when he was asleep?
OSCAR: When he was asleep, the… (Slow inhale.) Mister Scratch would take over. Marie ended up tying him to the bed in the attic… keep him from wandering. But Scratch wanted out. More and more he wanted out. (A distant low note.)
ARTHUR: So you met him… through the husband? (A distant click.)
OSCAR: No. It was during one of those times I was there trying to help… (A heavy sigh.) Trying to cast the demon out that I fell asleep. I was plagued by dreams, but they weren’t dreams… visions almost. Of my past, of my…
ARTHUR: Regret.
OSCAR: Yes. Mistakes. (Unintelligible whispers start in the background.) And he spoke to me and I saw him.
ARTHUR: And when you woke…
OSCAR: He was still there. Still speaking to me through her husband.
ARTHUR: So what happened?
OSCAR: She called me one day in a tizzy when I arrived. She’d killed him. (The sound of a knife stab.) Driven a knife through his chest as he laid tied up in the bed in the attic.
ARTHUR: Jesus.
OSCAR: Aye.
JOHN: Ask about the dust.
ARTHUR: Ah, when Marie showed me around I noticed… dust, by the door.
OSCAR: Aye. For some reason, Scratch cannot pass dust.
ARTHUR: Right. Do you know anything about the history of the house?
OSCAR: No… No. Why?
ARTHUR: Did Scratch say anything? About…how old he was, or…
OSCAR: No.
ARTHUR: Okay, well. Look. (Hopeful music begins.) We’re working together on this now, right?
OSCAR: I suppose so.
ARTHUR: Right. I need your help then. I’m going to find Hattie, but I need…(A deep breath.) I need to investigate exactly what this creature is.
OSCAR: You believe me? Just like that?
ARTHUR: Like I said, I’ve been around.
OSCAR: Apparently.
ARTHUR: I need you to find out everything you can about that house. Who lived there previous, how long… w-where they are now or are there any… living relatives. Can you do that for me?
OSCAR: I suppose so? Yes, I think I can.
ARTHUR: Brilliant. (Footsteps.)
OSCAR: Hattie is –
ARTHUR: We’ll look, but until we know what Scratch is it’ll be like…finding a needle in a haystack.
OSCAR: Before she would just wake up and come home, but…
ARTHUR: We’ll hope, but Scratch is the key to this. To ending this, proper.
OSCAR: Right, right. Thank you, mister…?
ARTHUR: Uhm. Just… Just Parker.
OSCAR: I’ll look into that.
ARTHUR: And anything else that comes to mind too, okay?
OSCAR: Right. And where should I reach you, uh, when I…? (A soft click.)
ARTHUR: Oh! Telephone me at… uhm. Marie’s, I s-suppose.
OSCAR: At Marie’s?
ARTHUR: Yes, or, uhm…
OSCAR: Or?
(Faroe’s Lullaby begins to play.)
ARTHUR: Actually, do you have a phonebook?
OSCAR: Yes, yes. Here. (Wooden furniture creaks, Oscar grunts, and the thumping of a book. Ruffling pages.)
JOHN: Who are we looking for?
ARTHUR: Daniel… Saltzman.
JOHN: Saltzman?
OSCAR: Is that… who…
ARTHUR: Yeah. Yes, just finding an address, and-and-and number.
OSCAR: S then, yeah?
ARTHUR (mild embarrassment): Right.
OSCAR: Here.
JOHN: One more. (More flipping pages.) There! (Thinking noises.) Found it. East 81st and Park Avenue.
ARTHUR: Yeah. Call me here, at-at this number, if I’m not at Marie’s.
OSCAR: Right.
ARTHUR: And… think on what you know. We’ll need everything.
OSCAR: Thank you, Parker. And I’m sorry.
ARTHUR: It’s okay. I’ll-I’ll… see myself out. (Steps.) Talk to you soon. (The creaking of a door, and more steps. An incandescent light flickers; their footsteps slightly echo.) Well, that should help with uncovering the purpose of that room.
JOHN: We’ll have to look at the book, too. I’m sure it’ll have answers, as well. (Another creak of a door. The sounds of murmured conversation and clinking dishware.)
ARTHUR: Yes, but we’ll do so at Daniel’s, I think. I’ve put that off long enough.
JOHN: Is that the Daniel from the phonebook?
ARTHUR: What? Yes.
JOHN: Why are we heading there?
ARTHUR (confused): Why?
JOHN: Yes.
(A mysterious piano melody begins. Another creaking of a door as they walk into the sounds of a city: passing cars, barking dogs, murmurs of people.)
ARTHUR (still confused): John, the Freemasons.
JOHN: Yes.
ARTHUR: My father-in-law, Daniel.
JOHN: What about him?
ARTHUR: You… You just asked –
JOHN (sudden outburst): Drop it, Arthur!
(A suspenseful sting of music.)
ARTHUR (bewildered): What has gotten into you?
JOHN (growling): Nothing! Nothing. (Frustrated.) Daniel, yes. Your father-in-law… we need to speak with him. And you need to stop… dodging it and face him.
ARTHUR (uncertain): I – No. I-I agree.
JOHN: Right. Well.
ARTHUR: John, I’m getting worried.
JOHN (intense): Don’t. (A car struggles to start nearby.) I thought you meant… I was thinking about the investigation at the same time, Arthur. (Accusatory.) You need to stop talking sometimes and let me think!
ARTHUR (giving in): Okay, okay. Which way is north?
JOHN: This way.
ARTHUR: Taxi! (A puttering taxi pulls up. The door opens.) Corner of 81st and Park Avenue, please. (They drive off.)
JOHN: How did you know he had a drinking problem?
ARTHUR: Oh, I… I could smell it.
JOHN: I hope he’s trustworthy.
ARTHUR: Well, Prohibition is over. It’s not unusual to be excited about drinking again. Just… maybe not so early in the afternoon.
JOHN: I knew what you were talking about.
(A quick piano melody begins to play.)
ARTHUR: Okay. You seemed frustrated.
JOHN: It’s difficult to be focused on so many things. How do you manage?
ARTHUR: I don’t know. I… practice, I suppose.
JOHN (thoughtful): Hm. So what are you going to say to him? Daniel, I mean.
ARTHUR: Well, at the very least, I need to try being… cordial to him. There’s no need to… (He sighs.) It’s no use to try and hide what we need here. Our relationship is fractured, to say the least.
JOHN: Why?
ARTHUR: Many reasons. (Weary.) Many reasons.
JOHN: Name one.
ARTHUR: Just one? Uhm. Oh, he thought his daughter was too good for me.
(A slow piano melody begins to play.)
JOHN: Was she?
ARTHUR: Probably. Definitely.
JOHN: How so?
ARTHUR: She – well, we-we met in school, she had aspirations. She met me, and… she had, uhm. Less interest in them.
JOHN: Why?
ARTHUR: I don’t know. She started sewing, became a seamstress after we… had gotten together, and I-I think her father thought that I… brought her down to that, that I somehow extinguished the passion she had for higher education and a more… noble pursuit.
JOHN: Did you?
ARTHUR: Not purposefully. I don’t know, I-I don’t think so.
JOHN: So why are you so nervous to speak with him?
ARTHUR: Because I am a bad son-in-law. I… in every sense of the word, in every way I… I’ve failed him. I lost him his daughter, his grand-child, his-his life and possibly a great deal of his purpose in this world.
JOHN: Are those his words or yours?
ARTHUR: Mine.
JOHN: Well. We’re here.
ARTHUR (surprised): What? Already?
JOHN: Mhm.
(The cab pulls to a stop.)
ARTHUR: Right, right. I suppose it wasn’t far at all.
JOHN: 54 cents.
ARTHUR: Here. (The jingling of coins. They exit into the sounds of the city.)
JOHN: It’s somewhere… this way.
ARTHUR: Right. Well, perhaps this isn’t such… you know, we could find a cafe nearby –
JOHN: Here.
ARTHUR (shaken): That close? Of course. Uhm… okay. Okay. (A pause. Nervously.) Wait.
JOHN: What?
ARTHUR: Look – it wasn’t just all that. It wasn’t just that I was a bad son-in-law. I… (Faroe’s Lullaby starts to play.) I tried to leave Bella. Before she gave birth, before she… died.
JOHN: Leave her?
ARTHUR: Yes.
JOHN: This was years ago, no?
ARTHUR: Yes, but… I’ve recently been thinking about it, and… I don’t know if I can face him again. Remembering that.
JOHN: Why did you want to leave her?
ARTHUR: It felt wrong, John. She was an amazing woman, I loved her, she was attractive, and-and kind, and… on all levels, we worked, but. She wasn’t the right woman for me, I…
JOHN: I don’t understand.
ARTHUR: I don’t know if I did either, I… I suppose it all just… fell into place without me realizing: the relationship, the child, the marriage… if you can call it that.
JOHN: You didn’t… love her?
ARTHUR: She deserved someone to love and she chose me. And… so I played the part until I couldn’t anymore. I-I admitted it to a friend. Remember, I told you this morning, about James? Out of Boston? When I woke up from my nightmare this morning, it was all…
JOHN (frustrated): Yes, of course.
ARTHUR: Okay, okay! Yes, you remember. I… I just… he was the one who tried to talk some sense into me.
JOHN: Are you going to tell Daniel this?
ARTHUR: No. God, no. Why? He-He would hate me. And with good reason to.
JOHN: I don’t know much about your relationships, especially of this nature. But you told me this morning that guilt needs to be let go. That it’ll weigh you down otherwise.
ARTHUR: Yes, but…
JOHN: It will drown you.
ARTHUR: You’re right. Of course. You’re right.
JOHN: It’s the past, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Okay.
JOHN: It’ll be fine. (Arthur starts to walk.)
ARTHUR: Right.
JOHN: Doorbell or knock?
ARTHUR (confused): What? What does it matter?
JOHN (self-evident): Everything matters. Doorbell or knock?
ARTHUR: Let’s just ring. (Arthur steps forward.) Do you hear anything?
JOHN: No. Should it be?
ARTHUR: It… should be ringing. (He presses it again.)
JOHN: Arthur – !
DANIEL: Arthur. (He walks forward.)
ARTHUR (nervously): O-Oh! Hello, D-Daniel.
DANIEL: Please. Come in. (They walk in, the door shuts behind him. Faroe’s Lullaby starts to play.) You didn’t knock.
ARTHUR: Th-The doorbell doesn’t…
DANIEL: I saw you through the window.
ARTHUR: Right, right.
JOHN: Arthur, he’s a large man. Intimidating, almost. His hands are thick. He’s wearing a brown tweed suit and sports a rather large mustache. His hair is peppered with gray, though the brown still lingers in spots. He’s wearing glasses, low on his nose.
DANIEL: Come. Have a seat.
ARTHUR: Thank you.
(They continue to walk. A fire crackles, upholstery squeaks. A clock ticks in the background.)
JOHN: He’s led us to a small sitting room off to the right of the front door. A kitchen sits at the far end of this room. (He grunts as he sits.) He’s sitting opposite you, Arthur, in a high-back chair near the fireplace, which seems to be smoldering. (A drink pours, clatters against dishware.)
ARTHUR: Well. I’m… I, uhm. I suppose you must be a little, uhm. Surprised to see me.
DANIEL: Surprised? No. Not much surprises me about you, Arthur.
ARTHUR: Right, well, uhm.
JOHN: He seems to be feigning disinterest.
DANIEL: I knew at one point you would decide to talk to me again. I just waited patiently, though I will say, your appearance is… quite wrecked.
ARTHUR: It’s been a tough time.
DANIEL: Mm. Yes. Seems you’ve… let it win, then.
ARTHUR (surprised): What?
DANIEL: Did you seek God?
ARTHUR: I don’t want to be drawn into another theological debate, Daniel. It’s been long enough.
DANIEL: Whose decision was that? (Arthur sighs. Another drink pouring. A slow piano melody starts.)
ARTHUR: How have you been?
DANIEL: Good. I’ve kept busy. My work with the church is ongoing and fruitful. Helping families, this community… in ways beyond measure. The business is… well, thrives despite these leaner times.
ARTHUR: Splendid. I’m glad to hear it, truly.
DANIEL: And you?
ARTHUR: Yes. It’s… it’s going well, as well.
DANIEL: In… Arkham?
ARTHUR: Yes, Arkham.
DANIEL: Music, still?
ARTHUR: No. Uh… no, actually. (Daniel huffs a laugh.) I-I’ve lost some of the, uhm. Passion, for it.
DANIEL: Shame.
ARTHUR: Yes, I-I suppose it was. I-Is.
JOHN (urgent): Ask him about the Freemasons, Arthur! That’s why we’re here.
(A cup clatters in a saucer.)
ARTHUR: So! You are h-home today.
DANIEL: Yes.
ARTHUR: I’m lucky I caught you, I…
DANIEL: Are you?
ARTHUR: Yes, of course, I… wanted to speak with you, obviously.
JOHN: Arthur, what’s wrong with you? Just ask him!
DANIEL: I’m surprised.
ARTHUR (sighing): Why?
DANIEL: It’s an unexpected level of maturity.
ARTHUR: Right. Well.
DANIEL: You’re not someone who typically… tries. (Arthur sighs.)
JOHN (offended): What the hell is that supposed to mean?
ARTHUR: Well.
DANIEL: What did you wish to speak with me about?
ARTHUR: I, I just wanted to catch up. See how you were. You’ve… been. You know…
DANIEL: A phone call would’ve done as much, Arthur. To come to New York… finally. (Arthur sighs.)
JOHN: What is he implying? Arthur, just ask him about the Freemasons so we can leave.
ARTHUR: Yes, well, I-I had time away…
DANIEL: From what? You’re not writing music. What are you doing?
ARTHUR: Nothing, really.
DANIEL: Nothing? Hm.
ARTHUR (sighing): Look. Daniel, I –
DANIEL (interrupting): Tea?
ARTHUR: Y-Yes. Sure.
DANIEL: In the kitchen.
ARTHUR (defeated): Right.
JOHN: Arthur, what is wrong with you?
ARTHUR (whispering): You don’t understand! This man, he has a way to just –
JOHN: Push past it. Stop allowing him to hurt you.
ARTHUR: What?
JOHN: You’re letting him affect you. We’re here for a reason, focus.
ARTHUR: I’m trying! It’s difficult.
JOHN (purposefully): You’re stronger than this. (A high piano melody starts.) Whatever version of you he despises, whatever past mistakes you’ve made… that’s no longer you. You’re not the same. He is attacking the ghost of your former self. Do not let him pull you back down.
ARTHUR (sighing): You’re right. You’re right. Okay. (He steps.)
DANIEL: You forgot your tea.
ARTHUR: Say what you need to say, Daniel.
DANIEL: Excuse me?
ARTHUR: It’s only a matter of time. You’re winding up to it, anyway. Just say what is on your mind.
DANIEL: What do you think I have to say, Arthur?
ARTHUR (annoyed): Oh, I’m sure you have many things to say. About me, my choices, but if you –
DANIEL: I have nothing to say. (Arthur takes a distressed breath. Faroe’s Song starts to play.) There is nothing to say. You and my Bella were married and she passed. It was terrible and tragic and we’ve mourned her… or, at least, I did. (Saucer clatters.) And you moved on. You kept a tight lid on your personal life. I viewed your life from afar the way you insisted, and only entered when you allowed me. (Gradually more angry.) You kept my grand-daughter away from here. Away from me. Keeping me at a distance. At arm’s length! Unless it were… Christmas. You two were so far away, my only… connection to my Bella, a distance! Not here. Where I… could’ve watched over you two! (Furious.) Watched over her! Kept you safe! Kept her safe!
ARTHUR: That’s what it is!
DANIEL: That’s the truth, you miserable little snob. There was room here for her, I would’ve kept her safe! Safe from you!
ARTHUR: You wanted her for yourself. You wanted to replace Bella! You wanted another daughter and she wasn’t yours to take!
DANIEL: I wanted what was best for her! (More despairing.) And… and what was best for this family.
ARTHUR: What family!?
(A sudden clattering of dishware.)
DANIEL: My family! Bella was –
ARTHUR: Bella despised you, Daniel. She moved to Boston to be away from you, from all of this! From your plans for her.
DANIEL: You dragged her away. From what she could’ve been.
ARTHUR (louder): She didn’t want that! She didn’t want your version of her future. She was an artist, she wanted more!
DANIEL: And yet she settled for you.
ARTHUR: Because I was everything you weren’t. I cared about her.
DANIEL: You were a white-livered weakling! And she even knew it.
ARTHUR: So the gloves are off, are they?
DANIEL: Perhaps it’s time you knew what she really thought about you.
ARTHUR: What the hell is that supposed to mean?
DANIEL: You are no prize, Arthur Lester! As self-involved as they come. (Disgusted.) Do you really think she married you for love?
ARTHUR (taken aback): What?
DANIEL: What kind of circumstances do you think befell her? That I needed to step in and rectify?
ARTHUR: Are you saying… Bella didn’t want to marry me?
DANIEL (stepping forward): Have you seriously looked at yourself? A musician with minimal talent and dreams of being something great. Selfish and arrogant… and motivated only by his own drive. Oh, she saw what your future brought. She saw the lack of attention. The lack of passion. The disinterest you’d bring to every dinner, every day that didn’t involve you. And along with it, an empty paycheck.
ARTHUR: She told you this?
DANIEL: Of course she did.
ARTHUR: And you convinced her otherwise?
DANIEL: Of course I did.
ARTHUR: Why?
DANIEL: Why? Because it’s right.
ARTHUR (higher pitch): Right? You –
DANIEL: There was a small, naive part of me that felt you could be sculpted. Changed, you could grow into something of value, something of worth! I saw fleetingly…
JOHN (concerned): Arthur.
ARTHUR (realizing): She didn’t love me.
DANIEL: She had potential. And she wasted it with you.
ARTHUR (fragile): Yes. I think that’s fair to say. (He sits again.) It was wrong.
DANIEL: What was?
ARTHUR: It was wrong f… for both of us.
(Daniel sighs. The cup clinks against the saucer.)
DANIEL: I… never… intended for you to… that’s been weighing on me. (He sniffs.)
ARTHUR: Yes, I… I can imagine. She told you this?
DANIEL: When she came to me. After she found out. About… the pregnancy. Even though she… despised me, I…
ARTHUR: She just… she wanted different things. I think. I-I thought. She talked a lot about you raising her, the strict nature, the… God being a focal point.
DANIEL: God is not –
ARTHUR (interrupting): Yes, yes, but. That wasn’t Bella, Daniel. Have you not had long enough to see?
DANIEL: I think of her often. (A slow piano melody starts.) Far too often. I… could have done more when she was younger. I lost a part of me when her mother passed. And she was so young. I became angry. God made that easier. Made that pain bearable, but… I see now that putting that onto her…
ARTHUR: She talked a lot about how you were before… her mother passed.
DANIEL: Yes. Yes. I remember it well. It’s… difficult. I know I have the capability for that. Innocent, pure joy, I remember fondly being… her world, when she was little. Yet I… perhaps in my age… in my years, I… I can’t quite grasp it again.
ARTHUR: She said you were a very different man, after.
DANIEL: We’re all different. Before death pays a visit. Why didn’t you attend her funeral?
ARTHUR: I couldn’t, I… I just couldn’t.
DANIEL: It broke my heart. I know you and I were… were never close. I know we’ve had our differences. But in my ignorance… I had hoped her passing could… brought me something I had not thought possible.
ARTHUR: What?
DANIEL: A son.
ARTHUR: I’m sorry for that, Daniel. I – I suppose, in my anger and frustration and sadness… I also missed the chance at having a father.
DANIEL: I thought, if I could keep Faroe here, keep you both here… maybe a part of me could come back. That part Bella remembered so fondly, I… the part I-I did, too.
ARTHUR: That wasn’t your decision to make.
DANIEL: And yet, you failed. You failed Bella. You failed me. And you failed Faroe.
ARTHUR (firmly): Yes. Yes, I did. But life is loss.
DANIEL (heh): You did listen.
ARTHUR: Sometimes. (Daniel winds something mechanical. The clock starts again.) So she really didn’t want to marry me?
DANIEL: No. And I know the same is true for you. Arthur…
ARTHUR: Hm?
DANIEL: What on Earth has happened to you?
ARTHUR: What do you mean?
DANIEL: You have an old wound across your neck, you look ragged, and your cheek is scarred beneath your eye. What has happened to you?
ARTHUR: I… it’s been difficult, these last few weeks, Daniel.
(A slow piano melody begins.)
DANIEL: It appears so.
JOHN: Arthur, don’t tell him about me! He wouldn’t understand.
ARTHUR: I’ve… gotten mixed up in something.
(The rustling of fabric.)
DANIEL: Is it money you need?
ARTHUR: No, no. Nothing like that, nothing… a little more dangerous.
DANIEL: Tell me.
ARTHUR (at a loss): Well! (A pause. More fabric rustling, and the crackling of a fire.) I suppose the most… pertinent information is that recently I have found myself outside of Arkham. To the west. A-A town called Addison. It was a real backwoods place. Owned by one prominent family. Larson was the family name, and the patriarch… Wallace. Or… as he went by, Andrew. He helped me out, at first. Offered me a place to stay, but I… I-I found out that he had kept a-a woman. I believe, maybe a townsperson, on his property. Against her will.
DANIEL: A prisoner. (Concerned.) Arthur.
ARTHUR: Yes. Why, I don’t know entirely, but. Uh. He and his… a-associate were keeping her, and others like her in a – in a… dungeon. Of sorts.
DANIEL (disbelieving): A dungeon?
ARTHUR: Yes, I know how this sounds. Believe you me, I’m trying to make this as palatable as possible. (He chuckles humorlessly.) Regardless, I managed to help many of them who had been trapped, a-and…
DANIEL: The girl?
ARTHUR: Well, he had her killed after I arrived.
DANIEL: Arthur, these are serious allegations. You must go to the police.
ARTHUR: No, no, no! Daniel, listen. I… I can’t.
DANIEL: Why not?
JOHN: Because you’re still wanted in Arkham. Have you thought this through? Arthur, you need to pull back on what you’re telling him!
ARTHUR: Because – ! Larson is a powerful man, and he’s connected to a great number of people. He has a place in Arkham, I think, a-and here in New York, there’s a society that…
DANIEL: A society?
ARTHUR: Yes! Actually, you’re-you’re still a Freemason, yes?
DANIEL: Of course. What does that have to do with…?
ARTHUR: Have you… heard of The Order of the Fallen Star?
DANIEL: I don’t believe I have. What is it?
ARTHUR: I, I don’t know. Look… Look, Daniel. (Insistent.) Everything I’m telling you, i-it must stay between us!
DANIEL: What exactly are you telling me, Arthur? And what does all of this have to do with the way you’re looking?
JOHN: You’re losing him! You need to be more grounded. Explain it in a way that will make sense. You can’t tell him everything!
ARTHUR: I’m not… (He sighs.) I’m not doing nothing in Arkham. I’m a private investigator. And all of this is because of a case I was working on. Um, someone hired me to find t-the woman that Larson had…
DANIEL: Then doubly so you must go to the police.
ARTHUR (long sigh): Daniel… that’s… not how these things work. Trust me. Look, Addison is not like New York, it’s –
DANIEL: Then what are you doing here?
ARTHUR: Well, the Order that Larson belongs to, I’m here to find it! To find out the information before… (Making it up as he goes along.) Going to the police, um, because if I do so, then…
JOHN: His expression has changed, Arthur, you need to reel this in! Quickly! He looks about ready to call the police himself.
ARTHUR: Look, I’m… (He sighs.) I’m not explaining myself very well.
DANIEL: I should say not. Arthur, whatever matters you are dealing with are clearly beyond your grasp. You must go to the police and tell them this. (A high, fragile piano melody starts to play.) I can take you, or do so myself.
ARTHUR: Daniel, no! Listen to me, I –
DANIEL: No, listen to me. You are not a police officer and I struggle to believe this… private investigator nonsense. You are a musician and someone who is clearly at the end of his rope. Take a step back and see where you are.
(Arthur sighs.)
JOHN (frustrated): This was a bad idea, there’s too much. It’s too difficult, he…
ARTHUR: Doesn’t trust us.
JOHN: Exactly.
DANIEL (confused): What?
ARTHUR: You don’t trust me. I-I didn’t think this through. Why would you? I…
DANIEL: Why would I what?
ARTHUR: Trust me? Why would you trust me? I… I disappeared. (A melancholic piano melody begins.) I left, I… I left it all behind. I left you behind. I did as little as possible, I… I wanted to think about you as little as possible. I wanted to forget this part of my life ever existed. Yet, it was my life, still. It was the entirety of it for… I mean, you can’t just run away from that.
DANIEL (disbelieving): Arthur.
ARTHUR: Daniel, I understand why you doubt me, I do. You haven’t seen me in a long time, how can you trust what you can’t… see. I suppose, faith, but. But why would you have faith in me?
(Daniel hmphs.)
JOHN: He may phone the police on you, Arthur. We need –
ARTHUR (brighter): Can I show you something? (A whimsical tune begins.)
DANIEL: Alright.
(Arthur rustles through the bag, retrieves the mask, and puts it on.)
JOHN: What are you… why are you putting on the mask?
ARTHUR (muffled): Just…
DANIEL (what now): What is that?
ARTHUR (muffled): A-A mask. Just wait, I’m trying to see if…
JOHN: The dagger! (They rustle through the bag.) I forgot we kept that! You gave the larger piece to the people in the mines, but kept the… (Arthur makes a noise of discovery. The tendril makes a ghostly hum.) The tendril! You’re trying to get it onto the – Arthur! To the left! A little more! T-There! You’re balancing the tendril on the obsidian blade! There’s a table to your left. Right here. Little more!
ARTHUR (muffled): I’m putting –
JOHN: There!
ARTHUR (removing his mask) Something, on the table. Here. Between us.
DANIEL: Is that obsidian?
ARTHUR: Yes. Yes, it’s obsidian, uh, but there’s something on it. I-I’m balancing something on it, here – here. (Clink of wood.)
DANIEL (disbelieving): There is nothing there.
ARTHUR: Y-Yes! You can’t see it, I know. But… (He grunts and jostles his bag.) This mask. I’ve had it for a long time, now. I want you to look through its eyes, t-to where I said I put something on the table.
DANIEL: What?
ARTHUR: Look, you don’t trust me, and I understand why. (Professional.) And you see nothing there, nothing on the table. Correct?
DANIEL: There is nothing there. Have you gone completely –
ARTHUR: Just! Just wait. I’m… I’m asking you to trust me. For one bite of the elephant. (A slow piano melody begins.) You don’t need to believe me about Larson, or my reasons for being here, or my hesitancy to go to the police just yet. You don’t need to believe any of that. You don’t even need to believe there’s anything on the table just yet. All I need you to do is look through the eyes of this mask.
DANIEL (outraged): This is prespost –
ARTHUR: Daniel, please! If you see nothing, I promise you, I will phone the police right now. I promise.
(A pause.)
DANIEL: Do you?
ARTHUR: On Faroe’s life. Take it. (Daniel puts on the mask.)
JOHN: He’s taking the mask and holding it to his face!
ARTHUR: Well?
DANIEL (shocked): My God.
ARTHUR: Yes.
JOHN: Arthur, he sees it! I don’t know what that means for trust, but… you weren’t wrong!
DANIEL (taken aback): What on God’s Earth… can I touch it?
ARTHUR: Sure.
DANIEL (shaken): My God.
ARTHUR: Here, here. Hand it back. (Daniel returns the mask, Arthur stows it away.) Here, let me…
DANIEL: What was that?
ARTHUR (rustling his bag): Daniel, that, for now, is just… trust. I need you to believe me, like you just did. There are forces that I’m dealing with, that are as unseen and cryptic as that small piece of invisible material that you just saw. Now, I know this is a big ask and I know everything within you makes it difficult to place your trust in me, but… if I can show you things that you previously could not see… please let that be proof that there are things that I am aware of that you are not.
There are things I’ve seen that you cannot. And there are reasons that I’m doing things that you cannot understand. For this reason and others like it, you need to trust that I cannot go to the police. That I must find this sect and that I must have… (He sighs.) Your faith.
DANIEL: Very well, Arthur. (A soft piano melody begins.) I do not understand what I have just seen, but for what it’s worth… I believe that you are making the right call for whatever circumstances surround you.
(Arthur sighs.)
ARTHUR: Thank you… Dad.
DANIEL: O-Oh.
JOHN: The Butcher.
ARTHUR: Right, um! The last piece of this, perhaps the most important, is that I’m… (A telephone starts to ring.) I’m being hunted right now.
DANIEL: What?
JOHN: I thought the doorbell didn’t work.
ARTHUR (whispering): That’s not the doorbell, that’s the telephone!
(Daniel makes a noise of confusion and walks over.)
JOHN: Oh.
DANIEL: I don’t know who would be calling me.
ARTHUR (whispering): We need to make sure that he is aware of our alias. (DANIEL (on the phone, faint): Hello?) That we’re going by Parker and not Arthur. (Muffled conversation on other end of the line.)
JOHN: Do you think he knows Wallace?
DANIEL (over the phone): Well, I’m not sure who told you to call this number, but… (On the other end: ‘Parker?’)
ARTHUR: If there’s a chance he knows Larson, I needed him to hear the name.
DANIEL (over the phone): There is no one here by that name. I’ll just –
ARTHUR (gradually louder): Wait, wait, wait. Daniel!
DANIEL (distantly): Yes?
ARTHUR: Are they asking for Parker?
DANIEL: Yes.
JOHN: It’s Oscar!
ARTHUR: Dan – (Cuts himself off.) It’s for me.
DANIEL (confused): For you?
(Furniture squeaks, Arthur walks to Daniel.)
ARTHUR: Because there is an inherent danger, I’m using an alias. Parker. I-I told this man to call me here.
DANIEL: Ugh. Very well. Here.
ARTHUR: Thank you. Sorry.
DANIEL (walking away): Why here and not at the hotel?
OSCAR (over the phone, amidst static): Parker.
ARTHUR: Did you find anything out about the house?
OSCAR: Yes.
ARTHUR: Brilliant.
OSCAR: It’s got quite the history. I… (Persistent knocking at the door.)
JOHN: Someone’s at the door.
DANIEL: Did you tell someone to come here, too?
OSCAR: Hello?
ARTHUR (distracted): Sorry, I’m just, uh, at a… a friend’s house. Hold on. Daniel! Why did you say ‘why not at the hotel’?
OSCAR: What?
ARTHUR: Hold, Oscar.
DANIEL: What do you mean?
ARTHUR: You said ‘why not at the hotel’. Why?
DANIEL: Well, that’s why you’re here, no?
JOHN: What?
OSCAR (insistent): Parker.
ARTHUR (aggravated): One second, Oscar!
DANIEL (amidst more knocking): Friend of mine saw the name, so I left a message for you at reception. To drop by. Figured you wouldn’t have my new address.
ARTHUR: You left me a message?
JOHN: With reception? (Alarmed.) Arthur, anyone could’ve gotten that! Especially – (More knocking.)
DANIEL: I told you to knock, which was why it was odd that you rang.
ARTHUR (yelling): Daniel, don’t answer the door!
DANIEL: Why?
JOHN (in alarm): Arthur!
ARTHUR (commanding): Daniel, get down!
JOHN: Down?
DANIEL: Down?
(A sudden blast and the splintering of wood. Daniel cries out in pain.)
ARTHUR (screaming): Daniel!
JOHN (breathing quickly in fear): Arthur!
(Blood begins to drip.)
COLLINS (singing ‘Peggy Gordon’): Oh, Peggy Gordon, you are my darling!
JOHN: He shot through the front door! (ARTHUR: Jesus Christ!) Daniel is covered in blood! Run, Arthur!
OSCAR: Parker!
(Arthur begins to run, making noises of exertion and panting for air.)
JOHN: He’s here! Run!
COLLINS (singing): Come sit you down upon my knee!
ARTHUR (whispering): Jesus Christ!
JOHN: There must be a back door. The door to your left – through the door! (Another blast and splintering of wood.) Shut the door, shut the door!
COLLINS (singing): And tell… (The door slams shut. Collins’ voice grows muffled.) To me the very reason!
JOHN: This is a small laundry room, Arthur. Block the door, quickly!
ARTHUR (frustrated, out of breath): How! How, how – what is there? What is there?
JOHN: There’s a shelf!
ARTHUR: Where?
COLLINS (singing): Why I am slighted so by thee!
JOHN: Here! (Groaning in exertion, Arthur pushes the shelf over.)
(The pumping of a shotgun and another blast. Suspenseful music starts.)
COLLINS (singing): I wish I was in some lonesome valley…
ARTHUR: Fuck. (Anguished.) What… Was Daniel…?
JOHN (in horror): I think so.
ARTHUR (sniffing): Fuck.
JOHN: I’m sorry, Arthur. We need to get out of here. There’s a small window above the washbasin. (Arthur grunts and moves.)
COLLINS (singing): Where womankind cannot be found…
JOHN: You’ll need to climb, carefully! (Wood squeaks. Arthur makes noises of fear.) There!
COLLINS (singing): Where little birds do change their voices…
JOHN: No! Yes! Here! (Furiously.) Climb, he’s at the door! (Another blast. Wood splinters. Arthur makes a noise of fear.) He’s blown a hole through the door, the debris is keeping it closed but he’s looking through the hole!
COLLINS (quietly): I can see you. (Louder. Arthur continues to climb.) Sorry about the mess! No, really, I prefer to use a quieter method, but you already seemed to elude me once. So. Had to go with a more… scattered approach.
JOHN (commanding): Climb, Arthur!
COLLINS (calmly): Now, don’t… move.
JOHN: Jump! (Another blast. Arthur takes a shaky breath.) You’re out, Arthur! There’s a small shed you’re standing on. He can’t make it through just yet!
ARTHUR (nearly hyperventilating): You killed him! You killed him, you – (Distant smashing noises.)
JOHN: Move, Arthur!
COLLINS: You better start running fast!
ARTHUR: We can’t outrun him!
JOHN: We have to try. He’s not going to stop this time. Run!
(Arthur starts to run, the sounds fading into the distance. Closer, Collins walks and ejects a shotgun cartridge.)
COLLINS: Five… four… three… two… one. Here… I… come.
(The pump of a shotgun, then static.)
(END Part 33.)
