Pete quickly gets the two men into the yellow plane and within minutes they are airborne. The flight is at times choppy but otherwise uneventful. Both land and ocean at times pass underneath them. About two hours after the flight beginsn, Pete is taxiing the plane onto a narrow runway at a small airfield outside the town of Cape Truman, Virginia.
Soon after they land, Kenny’s cell phone rings. It is Mary, calling from the offices of the Sunlight Scoop.
“There should be a taxi there for you shortly,” she informs Kenny, “And I’ve already paid for rooms for you at a Hotel, a place called Hotel Renard. It should be near the waterfront. If you need something paid for, call me, don’t bother Mr. Rogers.”
“Hey boys,” says Pete, as Kenny hangs up the phone, “You two don’t mind if I hitch a ride with you into town do you? I need to grab a bite to eat before flying back.”
Pete quickly gets the two men into the yellow plane and within minutes they are airborne. The flight is at times choppy but otherwise uneventful. Both land and ocean at times pass underneath them. About two hours after the flight beginsn, Pete is taxiing the plane onto a narrow runway at a small airfield outside the town of Cape Truman, Virginia.
Soon after they land, Kenny’s cell phone rings. It is Mary, calling from the offices of the Sunlight Scoop.
“There should be a taxi there for you shortly,” she informs Kenny, “And I’ve already paid for rooms for you at a Hotel, a place called Hotel Renard. It should be near the waterfront. If you need something paid for, call me, don’t bother Mr. Rogers.”
“Hey boys,” says Pete, as Kenny hangs up the phone, “You two don’t mind if I hitch a ride with you into town do you? I need to grab a bite to eat before flying back.”
The more the merrier. Do you know this area, Pete? It would be nice to have someone who knows the place.
We are looking into the disappearance of the crew of that ship (can't remember name). Do you know any of the locals? Maybe someone knows somebody that was aboard or has something to do with the investigation.
Do you know this area, Pete? It would be nice to have someone who knows the place.
"I've never been here before in my life," says Pete cheerfully, "Wouldn't have found it without good maps and radar."
Down the road that leads towards the airfield, a yellow vehicle, a taxi perhaps, can be seen approaching.
"Maybe you want to ask him," says Pete pointing at the vehicle which now can clearly be seen to be a taxi.
The taxi pulls to a stop in the airfield's parking lot near the small air control tower.
*motions to the driver to open the trunk, puts Kenny's and his suitcases in*
Driver? We're gonna be three here. Can you hang around after we drop off Pete and take us to the docks?
To the Driver: Have you heard about the ship, Bouncing Skipper? Crazy, that an entire ship crew could disappear. Have you been following that?
“No problem dropping you off wherever you want,” says the driver, a hulking man with dark skin and a shaved head. He wears a red t-shirt with the sleeves ripped out and there is a tattoo of a skull on his left arm.
“Everyone’s heard about the Bouncing Skipper,” says the driver amiably, “been ferrying you news guys all day. There’s television cameras all over the place down there. You’re the first that asked me about it though.”
“Old Walter Matthias owned the ship, a weird guy, had funny ideas you know. It’s a small town. Just ask around about Walter, you’ll see what I mean. The way I see it, Walter finally snapped and killed all his crew and threw them overboard last night. That’s all. But it makes a good story don’t it. Twelve men all gone without a trace. Blood everywhere. At least that’s what I heard. But you’ll see, they’ll send down some divers and there they’ll all be on the bottom of the sea.”
Is there anywhere that you haven't taken any of the other press? Eastman and I are interested in a scoop, ya see? So, there might be a cool twenty in it for you can put us in the right spot.
(do you want me to make a diplomacy roll or anything, DM?)
(do you want me to make a diplomacy roll or anything, DM?)
The taxi driver thinks hard about it and then asks, "You want to find out about Walter or about the ship?"
"I'd be happy to take your money but I ain't sure what you want to know."
My gut's telling me Walter. So if you can take us somewhere where we might learn more about him, somewhere you didn't take any other press, we'd be mighty thankful.
"Yeah,... let me think about that," says the driver.
After Pete is dropped off at a fast food restaurant on the edge of town, the taxi turns towards the ocean.
"The place to ask," says the driver, "is near the docks. There's a little place there were some of the dock workers hang out. Everyone knows Walter, but they'll know him the best."
"You can ask around there."
The taxi drives near the docks and Kenny and Harvey can see a large crowd of people, tv camera trucks and even two helicopters flying overhead. Just beyond the crowd, floating in the ocean water, is a ship, looking well used and sea-worn.
A corner is turned and the scene is out of sight. The vehicle goes down a narrow one way street makes a right and then swings around into a small parking lot.
A sign on the front of the building displays a pepsi logo with the words, Crane's Roost, just above it.
"This is the place," says the taxi-driver and he waits for his fare and tip.
*pays the fare and tips the driver*
(-$20+ another $20?)
Thanks, again buddy.
*walks into the bar and starts asking if anybody knows Walter and what they can tell Harvey about him*
(rolled a 17 in gather info)
I order a drink for myself and for Harvey.
To the bartender: "I can't believe what I have been hearing about the Bouncing Skipper. I hope that no one you know was aboard."
KENNY and HARVEY
The bar is dimly lit, with an ocean motif. Stuffed fish, fishing poles and oars line the walls. Inside, a dozen or so men, singly and in groups, sit at tables, drinking and talking. The discussion stops for a moment as each of the customers inspect the two men that just walked in. Slowly, curiosity satisfied, the talk slowly resumes. Kenny orders his drink and the barkeeper’s sullen face softens somewhat
KENNY
“I knew all the men on board,” he says, “They all was in here at one time or another. Two to One will get you that it was Walter, finally snapped. He was in here yesterday morning after the Bouncing Skipper got into port. There was a man who did not look well.”
HARVEY
The old man seems to like the look of Harvey for he smiles pleasantly as he talks. His mate at the table, another old man with a wrinkled face and a red ball-cap, nods affably.
“I knew Walter, sure, we went to school together. Same class. He was always a weird one, even back then. Always knew he’d come to no good. Ain’t much of a secret he weren’t a christian man.”
KATJA
“Two new reporters are going to be down in your neck of the woods,” explained Mary, “I don’t think either of them are photographers. There’s a ship in Cape Truman. The crew’s disappeared. They’re supposed to be coming up with a story or two from it. Get some pictures and I’ll make sure Roger’s sees them. Get something good. Something no one else gets. Preferably from inside the ship. I got you a room at a local hotel there for two nights, the Hotel Renard.”
Some two hours later and she’s at the docks in Cape Truman. There’s only two ships in dock but there are a ton of new crews, including other photographers, all eagerly snapping pictures.
“The Bouncing Skipper, a local ship, pulled into dock yesterday, over a dozen men aboard. This morning not a one remains. Police suspect foul play.” A blonde news-woman nearbye talks into a camera.
Katja looks around but she doesn’t see any two men together that match the description Mary gave her.
"Aw, Jeez Louise!" Katja hisses, more or less to herself.
If there's one thing she hates, it's waiting.
No - strike that- if there's one thing she hates, it's humanity at its 'feeding frenzy' worst, as exemplified by the hordes of rival photographers who are even now getting in her way, snapping tons of shots, and generally going on crazed autopilot. "Morgue-arazzi," Katja sneers - her personal term for paparazzi of the doom-and-gloom variety...
Plus, Katja is starting to REALLY want a drink. There's just something about coastal boondocks like Cape Truman that emits the sad siren call to just "Sail Away to Margaritaville." That or kill one's self. (Though in Katja's case, the two options are now pretty much the same...)
"Ah frig it," Katja thinks. "You can do this, girl. Just calm down, and work with what you've got."
So thinking, Katja subtly shifts into 'sexy' mode, and approaches whatever male photographer looks most susceptible to the Bimbo Routine.
"Oh my goodness!" Katja squeals, when she reaches her target. "What on Earth is going on HERE? EEK! This looks really CREEPY!"
Katja
The third however is more amiable. He doesn’t seem exactly ‘smitten’ with her, but he answers her questions without cursing at her.
“General consensus seems to be that the Captain went crazy and murdered the crew,” says the man, “Police will probably find the bodies when they send down the divers.”
He doesn’t seem to know much more. But it is clear that no one who is not a member of an official investigative force is being allowed aboard.
To the bartender: I worked with a guy who I thought was going to come in shooting some day. I'm glad I don't work with him anymore. I guess it's different when the boss is unstable.
What do you think made Walter unstable? A few people have said he was like that for a while. Did he just decide to ratch it up a notch?
What kind of business was the Bouncing Skipper in, anyway?
KENNY
“Walter used to haul stuff, up and down the coast,” answers the Bartender, “He said he was up in Boston, though I heard tell he came back empty. Always was a little strange, but truth be told, I never thought he was going to go off the deep end like this. But yesterday morning, he comes in, all shaky, looked pale. Said he needed a strong shot of something. I remember that. Had his drink and then left without talking much. He never was much of a talker but he was really quiet yesterday. Kept looking back over his shoulder. Feel sorry for the guys that worked for him though. They was a good bunch.”
I ask the bartender if he has a news paper and a phone book. I want to see if any family members have arranged funerals and look up funeral homes and churches in the area. I do NOT tell the bartender what I want to look up. I tell him I am checking out hotels and restaurants in the area.
To the bartender: What is a good place to eat around here? I bet most of the places are crowded with police investigators.
Harvey
I think we should check out churches in the area. It is likely that people will gather to pray for the crew members. These crowds usually have some talkative members. Other places I am thinking of: police, coast guard HQ, marine authorities, chamber of commerce to check up on Walter's business, hotel staff, restaurant staff. Can you think of anything else?
The bartender says, rather crossly, "This ain't a bad place to eat."
But he gets a phonebook for Kenny. There are two funeral homes listed for the town. And several churches of various denominations.
The bartender says, rather crossly, "This ain't a bad place to eat."
But he gets a phonebook for Kenny. There are two funeral homes listed for the town. And several churches of various denominations.
Katja's bummed that her first efforts didn't go over well. She's feeling a bit edgy. Her blood-sugar's probably running low: as soon as Katja got the word from Mary, the young photographer jumped on her Vespa, and sped off to 'Truman; now she's beginning to feels the effects of not having had a good lunch. Katja remembers the Recovery acronym H.A.LT. - i.e., Never let yourself get too Hungry, Angry, Lonely or Tired. Katja decides she'll try one more reporter-ish feint, then go get a bite to eat. Running yourself down is a sure-fire to make you want to go off the wagon...
Katja
Regardless, she continues, "The divers should be here in about an hour. They're getting their gear together. We think the bodies must have been weighted or else they would be floating on the water."
The divers, it appears, are getting ready at a spot about five miles away from the actual docks. They will then take a boat down and dive from their boat.
I'm going to try to smooth things over with the bartender regarding my faux pas about places to eat.
"Does Walter have any family? Is anyone taking care of him, in case he was not the guy who went after the crew? It could be like Richard Jewel, the guy who was wrongly accused of the bombings at the Atlanta Olympics in 1996.
"I believe you when you say that he might have just snapped under the pressure. But I don't want to start printing things without getting his side too, or at least something to support them. It's also important to the crew. They deserve that the truth comes out. Since we are a weekly paper we can go more in depth than the TV or daily papers can. That is why those guys just run with the last thing they here without being too concerned with the truth."
Kenny
“Did you tell him that Walter was in here yesterday morning,” asks a man sitting nearby, suddenly interested in the conversation. The man lifts a nacho chip to his mouth and chews noisely.
“Yeah, I told him. He wanted to know about Walter’s family.”
“Didn’t have no family,” says the other, his mouth still full of chip “And just one friend, ‘sides his crew.”
“I guarantee you it was Walter that done it,” says the bartender to Kenny, “You should have seen him yesterday, all nervous and such. Probably half snapped then.”
“At least he didn’t go all crazy while he was in here,” interjects the chip eater
Harvey
“He ain’t the only one,” says the man in the red ball cap, “You ever hear of such a thing? Shameful is what it is. Him and old Sally Grip’s boy are real close. Sally Grip is a good christian woman, she is. Boy must take after his father.”
A pagan? That's a little strange for these parts isn't it? Meanin,' doesn't everyone around here know everyone else pretty well? And who or what would put those ideas in Walter's head?
Who is Walter's friend? You know, if he sheds light on this it could help the investigation. Sometimes people are more willing to talk to reports than police because the think they will get in trouble for not going to the cops BEFORE something happened. It's not unusual for us to convince people to talk to the police after they sit down with us.
HARVEY
“Now don’t go preaching, Ed,” says the first man.
“Wouldn’t hurt you to be in church a bit more Chuck.”
Chuck ignores the barb and answer’s Harvey’s question, “Far as I know it was grip that put the ideas in Walter’s head, though who can tell, maybe it was Walter got the weird notions first and put them in Grip’s head. They’re both odd ducks. Whenever Walter wasn’t on his boat he was spending time down at Grip’s place.”
KENNY
“Grip. Sam Grip, Sally’s boy.”
“Right. Name of Grip. Doesn’t come in here but I know his mother real well. She was always a real lady, works at the library.”
“You in the library much then,” asks George, stuffing another chip in his mouth.
“That’s right,” laughs the Bartender, “You know me,…” It is obvious he finds the idea of spending time in the library as quite humorous.
Katja's torn between jumping on her Vespa, and going to where the divers are, or grabbing a bite to eat.
"Girl, go get something to eat first," she tells herself. "I can't have you cracking up just cuz you're hungry."
KATJA
"And of course," she says, "There are several small taverns and bars in town."
"Bars and taverns, huh?" says Katja to the police officer. "Uh, that's not really going to work out for me. Me plus alcohol equals...well, nothing good."
"But- I appreciate the info you've given me. You've been really helpful, and I know y'all are busy here. Look, as I go about covering this story, would you be willing to be, like, an official police spokesperson? Hell I don't know what you call it - but someone I could contact? Get official quotes from? I promise not to tread on your toes."
KATJA
The number is jotted down on a slip of paper and handed over to Katja.
"Now if you'll excuse me I have to go and help manage traffic."
Katja is left alone, on the edge of the crowd.
I order an appetizer of something and thank the bartender and patron for their help.
Gentlemen, this is my pal, Eastman. He's okay.
*To Kenny*
Grab a seat Eastman.
*to the old gents*
Could you give us the address to this Grip boy's house? I'd like to see what I can see about this. You think it'll be a problem me showin up?
HARVEY and KENNY
"Where's he live Ed?"
"Over on Elm I think, but you don't want to go there. Grip runs a bookstore on 2nd just off of Main."
"He still have that store," asks Chuck conversationally, "I never been in it."
"Yeah, its cheaper to buy my westerns off of him than it is over at that place at the shopping center."
"I get my TV Guide in the mail. Don't have to go shop for it."
Ed ignores Chuck and continues, "Just follow the road here away from the coast a couple of blocks and then turn right onto Main. Three blocks down make a left. Sign says 'BOOKS.' He should be there."
Thank you much. This rounds on me.
*to Kenny*
Let's get out of here, head to the bookstore before any other press gets wind of this.
*gets up and pays bartender for a round for the men*
(-$15)
HARVEY and KENNY
Katja thanks Officer Green profusely.
Then, she heads over to McDonald's, before her blood sugar dips any lower. Two plain burgers - NOTHING on them - large fries, orange juice, and two apple pies. The apple pies McDonald's offer nowadays SUCK. Nothing like the crunchy, deep-fried treats of Katja's youth- now they're just baked. And doughy. And insipid. Bleah. Why does McDonald's worry about making APPLE PIES of all things healthier? Maybe it just costs more more money to fry the f%%ers.
Katja's note:
(OOC: Walking sounds fine to me. And yes $100 in pocket sounds good.)
While walking: "So what did you come up with, Harvey?"
Harvey
Katja
The man at the front desk, a heavy set man with brown skin and dark black hair moves slowly to help Katja. He speaks with a slight mexican accent, pauses between sentences for lengthy periods of time and seems to have to think quite hard about the simplest of tasks. nevertheless he, slowly, assures Katja, that she has room 208, on the second floor and hands her a key.
"Ah, great," thinks Katja to herself. "Like I haven't seen THIS hotel 100 times before, on made-for-cable movies. No doubt the owner has a posthumous mother fixation, or some maid has her deformed, murderous ape-baby locked in the cellar. This should be fun. Welcome to Mondo Bizarro, Katja."
Having buzzed one of her co-workers, Katja decides she'll hang in Room 208 for, like, 20 minutes - scarfing down the rest of her MacDonald's. If a Scooper calls her in that time, great; if not, she'll head over to the divers' locale.
She's trying not to admit to herself that she doesn't really know what the hell she's doing. "If this really WERE a made-for-cable movie, I'd be ON that boat by now." Sigh.
*to Eastman*
Seems this Captain Walter character is crazier than anyone knows. Talkin about paganism, Eastman. Paganism. Right? This world, eh?
Anyway, this guy, Grip, might be involved somehow. We're heading there -
*phone vibrating*
Oh, hold on.
*reads message*
Looks like we might just have a photographer, Eastman.
*dials number on message*
*waits...*
(if she picks up) - "Katja? This is Harvey Malgam, with the scoop, you the photographer?"
Katja's cell phone purrs. Ah ha, now we're getting somewhere! Murderous, deformed ape-baby, you're just going to have wait!
Katja hears Malgram's voice, and starts beaming to herself, alone in her fetid little room.
"Harvey! It's Katja! How's it hanging, man? And by 'it' I mean your journalistic integrity. Where the hell are you guys? I'm currently on the set of "The Hotels Have Eyes" a.k.a. the Renard. How do I get out of here and come find y'all?"
Katja's cell phone purrs. Ah ha, now we're getting somewhere! Murderous, deformed ape-baby, you're just going to have wait!
Katja hears Malgram's voice, and starts beaming to herself, alone in her fetid little room.
"Harvey! It's Katja! How's it hanging, man? And by 'it' I mean your journalistic integrity. Where the hell are you guys? I'm currently on the set of "The Hotels Have Eyes" a.k.a. the Renard. How do I get out of here and come find y'all?"
It's hanging long, and nice too meet you also. I got Kenny Eastman here with me, and we're investigating some local flavor, we think it might have something to do with the captain of the ship. Where's the Renard? Why don't you grab a cab and tell him to take you to Grip's bookstore in town. We'll wait for you.
By the way, thanks for showing up. I don't know about Eastman but I'm sh*t all with a camera.
I tell Harvey all about what was in my spoilers.
"Looks like ol' Walter has been a headcase for years now. Everybody is fingering him as the guy behind the disappearance of his crew. Apparently he was bugging out yesterday morning at the bar. The bartender and a patron said he came in early, acted nervous and left after a drink. They said he kept looking over his shoulder.
"My initial thought for a headline is 'Atlantian Aggression Claims Ship's Crew'. I think Walter had some contraband on his boat. I guess they met another ship to transfer it. Something went wrong, probably about money or NSA/Navy Intelligence involvement and the other crew killed the Bouncing Skipper crew and dumped them in the water. What are you thinking?"
Hold on a sec Katja *covers mouth piece*
Well, that headline sounds good, the story sounds right, but is it gonna be what Hugh Rogers wants?
Right now I'm looking at, "Water Beasts From Mars Enter Skull Through Spine, Captain Proclaims!" or some bullsh*t like that. But I guess we'll have to get the quote won't we?
*puts phone back to ear*
Sorry Katja, what were you saying?