May 1st, 2011
The day was not so unusual for Chicago. It had rained the evening before and the streets were still damp as the morning sun made its way lazily across the cloudy sky, emerging perhaps once an hour to remind the world of its existence before disappearing once again. It was Sunday, and the churchfolk of the Windy City were emerging from their morning services and filling the dirty streets, as they had done every week before. For the millions who called the city home, this was just another day. For a select group, however, the specter of death had cast its shadow upon them.
When you saw the obituary last Friday, you could hardly believe your eyes. Professor Lucas Stampf, the very same professor who had taught some of your obligatory sociology classes, had passed away at the age of 49. Professor Stampf was not like most teachers, however. You remembered his lectures on modern hate cults, religious fanaticism, and the nature of human conflict. He had such passion, such devotion to his field of study. For a time perhaps you considered a change of major because of his influence. Some of the students mocked him for his extremism but for some reason, it stuck with you. Now, even years later, the images of a KKK rally splayed across the massive lecture hall projection screen or the image of a Palestinian woman kneeling over the body of her child in the streets of modern Jerusalem haunt your dreams when you think too much about them.
You had spent time with the professor outsider of class at least a few times, as he made a point of getting to know his students better and engage them in conversation whenever the opportunity presented itself. He was an avid patron of local bars (particularly ones with live entertainment), though nothing suggested any alcoholism or similar maladies. He simply loved to be in the element of his study: society. Rumors persisted of the professor taking some students aside after hours or otherwise making contact with them beyond the realm of school, but these rumors were never confirmed nor did anyone think twice about such things if they were true. He was personable, friendly, and fiendishly intelligent.
Regardless of the impact he had upon you, news of his death was shocking not because you recognized the name, nor because of his relatively young age. You all received a personal invitation, delivered by Certified Mail, to the funeral, held today at the Muzyka & Son Funeral Home on Lawrence Avenue. The return address of the sender was simply a P.O. Box assigned to the University you had all attended. There was no name or other indication. Compelled by either respect, morbid curiosity, or a healthy serving of both, you have decided to attend.
Arriving at the parking lot adjacent to the funeral home, you notice that there are a number of other people here. Perhaps for another funeral service, perhaps not. As you exit your conveyance of choice, a chill wind sweeps through the lot from the south. Errant pieces of litter from the street are carried on the breeze, finding lodging in the short row of bushes that separated this lot from the alley. The sound of organ music can faintly be heard emanating from within as another group of mourners enters ahead.
Garrett walks towards the doors of the Funeral Home. I wonder how he died, he thinks, strange that I never saw his body at the morgue. Must've been taken to one of those lesser hospitals. He stops at the door, hesitating a second, then opens the door and goes in.
The low rumble of an antique 70's V8 gutters out as the car draws to a halt. The driver's door opens and a tall skinny youth unfolds himself from the low-slung seat. He looks down at himself, self-consciously checking how he looks in the unfamiliar black mourning suit. Bought specially for the occasion, obviously new, obviously cheap.
Should've stuck to black jeans, Doc thinks, then enters the Funeral Home just behind a short bald guy who seems slightly familiar from somewhere.
It is a tragic loss when someone of a kind heart is lost. Can things not get any better for me? Granted the event is worse for his family but still…
The black mustang pulls into the parking lot and idles for a moment. Well at least I can pay my respects to the man. The driver’s door opens and out steps a tall man, his hair cleanly cut and his muscular frame still visible in his black suit. The suit of fine quality, not an Armani, but still not cheap; a red tie in contrast to the suit just as the rough stubble on his face contrasts with his otherwise clean appearance. He looks to the sky admiring the clouds and pulls forth a rain coat. Typical; a funeral and bad weather, must be a requirement these days. Wearing the coat the figure enters the funeral home his expression plain almost emotionless.
A yellow cab pulls into the parking lot and a tall, elegant young woman gracefully exits. Leaning in to pay the driver, Toni thinks Poor Lucas, I wonder what happened to him. It's been years since I talked to him last but I still remember those late nights at Woodlawn Tap. I had such a crush on him. Adjusting her veil and smoothing the black dress her mother loaned her, Toni proceeded up the walk into the funeral home.
Salvatore pulls the dirty, and battered Chrysler mini-van into a spot a bit away from the entrance. Digging through the fast food wrappers, and notebook pages on the drivers seat, he pulls his reading glasses from the string keeping them around his neck, and places them on his nose squinting as he reads the fine print on the letter.
Hmmm...I never have really liked these things, but I guess I'd better get used to them. The good lord knows I'll see enough in my time. I much prefer weddings, and christenings
Funny. It was hard to imagine the energetic chap as dead. He'd been maddeningly frustrating as a professor, challenging his every view point, and offering seemingly feasible alternatives to all my beliefs...but in a kind of warped way...he was responsible for be being a man of such strong faith. Had he not caused me to question things, before accepting them on faith, then my calling might not have been so strong. Still why send me the letter. Though acquaintances, and verbal sparring partners, we certainly weren't close, except for on an intellectual level.
Still...I'm here...might as well find out what this is all about.
Tightening his overcoat about his neck, Salvatore piled from the van leaving a trail of gum wrappers, and stale french fries as he headed towards the entrance.
"Nice tune" he mumbles to himself as the strains of the organ music drift to him on the wind.
The entrance of the funeral home is somewhat crowded and it takes you a few moments waiting just outside the door as a young man, perhaps twenty, holds the door open with a slight smile on his face. At least a dozen people nod to the youth as they enter, everyone filtering into the over-crowded entryway.
As you mill about outside, you can't help but recognize a few faces from your college days. A few of them greet you, re-introductions are made, and not a small number of conversations pertaining to the death of the professor begin circulating.
Perhaps of largest interest, however, is the apparent lack of anyone truly mourning. There are at least forty people now crammed into the waiting area just inside the door, all of them no older than mid-thirties. You do not spy any of Professor Stampf's colleagues, other staff from the University, or indeed even family members. The funeral home staff does its best to hasten preparations for the service, clearly not expecting a turn-out of this magnitude.
Great. I really do dislike crowds. Now this is about to be a giant sweat box of mourners. Alex enters the funeral home also giving his ‘nod’ to the boy holding the door. Who the hell was that? He must of known the professor, perhaps a member of his family.
Making his way inside and noticing the variety and lack thereof in the attendees. Not a soul above thirty? Where’s the professors colleagues? Did the old man burn that many bridges at the collage? Keeping his thoughts to himself Alex notices a familiar face and approaches Garrett. “Terrible day this is.” Alex looks about the funeral home taking it all in, “Though I think the staff are a little underprepared for the numbers in attendance.”
Great. I really do dislike crowds. Now this is about to be a giant sweat box of mourners. Alex enters the funeral home also giving his ‘nod’ to the boy holding the door. Who the hell was that? He must of known the professor, perhaps a member of his family.
Making his way inside and noticing the variety and lack thereof in the attendees. Not a soul above thirty? Where’s the professors colleagues? Did the old man burn that many bridges at the collage? Keeping his thoughts to himself Alex notices a familiar face and approaches Garrett. “Terrible day this is.” Alex looks about the funeral home taking it all in, “Though I think the staff are a little underprepared for the numbers in attendance.”
Garrett turns around, "Oh, Alex. It's been a while, hasn't it?" Garrett turns and surveys the building alonside Alex. "I was just about to go in, but it does seem a bit crowded in there."
"Do, you, by any chance, know how he died?" Garrett whispers.
"Sadly no. I'm afraid i've as much information as you do in his death?" Alex smiles to change the grim subject, "So what have you been up to since school? What's the world got you doing?"
"Sadly no. I'm afraid i've as much information as you do in his death?" Alex smiles to change the grim subject, "So what have you been up to since school? What's the world got you doing?"
"Well, I ended up getting my medical degree, got vetted, and I'm working at the university hospital. It's long hours, but it pays well, and there isn't a better feeling in the world when you help people" he says, smiling back.
"So, how has life been treating you? Nice Mustang, by the way."
"You recall I lost my sports scholarship?" Alex mildly sighs, "Well as you recall, hell if you wouldn't of helped in some of those study sessions I don't think I would of graduated. But anyway i'm doing Federal work now." Alex lowers his voice so those nearby can't hear, "More specifically what I deal with...you recall the 'Kinder-Garden Cult'? I do work for the FBI now."
Looking back at his car, "It pays the bills and lets me have my toy. At least for the time."
Spotting a familiar face in the crowd Salvatore makes his way through the door. "Carl". "Is that you"? I almost didn't recognize you in those...well sensible clothes". "You look great man". Salvatore closes the distance and warmly shakes Doc's hand.
"Shame people only see each other at sad events like this". "Sadder still that as we age that becomes more often the case". "So I've seen your ugly mug posted on advertisements around the area more and more often". "I take it the whole musical career thing is going well"?
Salvatore then notices the strange make-up of the crowd, and the lack of mourners. With a frown he scans the room looking more closely at it's make up. He then spots another familiar face in the crowd.
"Say I can't say for sure with that veil and all but isn't that that hot Toni girl that always set in the front of the room in the Professor's sociology class"?
"You recall I lost my sports scholarship?" Alex mildly sighs, "Well as you recall, hell if you wouldn't of helped in some of those study sessions I don't think I would of graduated. But anyway i'm doing Federal work now." Alex lowers his voice so those nearby can't hear, "More specifically what I deal with...you recall the 'Kinder-Garden Cult'? I do work for the FBI now."
Looking back at his car, "It pays the bills and lets me have my toy. At least for the time."
"I'm glad you found a job. The FBI must be swamped with applications with the current economy." He whispers back, "Did you guys end up solving the KGC murders? I tried to give you all the help I could, but I still don't know how those bodies ended up like that."
After recieving a reply, Dr. Garrett will look over at the casket. Is this a closed casket or open casket-style wake/funeral?
After recieving a reply, Dr. Garrett will look over at the casket. Is this a closed casket or open casket-style wake/funeral?
After recieving a reply, Dr. Garrett will look over at the casket. Is this a closed casket or open casket-style wake/funeral?
Toni looks at the crowd and recognizes many faces she has seen around the University, although, curiously, no other faculty members. She sees Sal and Carl, frowning momentarily at Sal's less than formal attire but fondly remembering late nights spent listening to Carl jam on his guitar. Then she sees someone else she recognizes.
"Why, Garrett, Ted never told me you knew Lucas. It's good to see you, again. Are you here professionally? Did something happen to Professor Stampf that required your services?"
Doc shakes Sal's hand warmly. "Yeah I thought I'd smarten up a little. It's good to see you man, we should've caught up ages ago, for happier reasons. Oh and glad people are seeing the posters! You'll have to come along to the club some night."
"Do you know what happened? I mean, how Prof Lucas ... ah ... died?"
Toni looks at the crowd and recognizes many faces she has seen around the University, although, curiously, no other faculty members. She sees Sal and Carl, frowning momentarily at Sal's less than formal attire but fondly remembering late nights spent listening to Carl jam on his guitar. Then she sees someone else she recognizes.
"Why, Garrett, Ted never told me you knew Lucas. It's good to see you, again. Are you here professionally? Did something happen to Professor Stampf that required your services?"
Doc shakes Sal's hand warmly. "Yeah I thought I'd smarten up a little. It's good to see you man, we should've caught up ages ago, for happier reasons. Oh and glad people are seeing the posters! You'll have to come along to the club some night."
"Do you know what happened? I mean, how Prof Lucas ... ah ... died?"
"Yeah. I'd like to do that". "I hope you're working some of your original stuff into the show". "I was always jealous of that". "Maybe I'll bring out my Harmonica, and we can play that old Taj Mahal number we used to keep the whole hall awake with".
"I really don't know anything about the circumstances of his passing". "Am I the only one who thinks the make up of the mourners here is strange".
Then with a brief wave and smile at Toni, "Yes that is her". "I'd know that frown of disapproval anywhere". He then starts in her direction, seeing her stop to talk to some guy in an expensive suit... who also looked familiar for some reason.
"I have a regular band most nights, but Thursdays are open mic at Lilly's. It's great fun, just a big public jam, really."
Doc looks round and sees who Sal is waving at, "Let's go over an mingle. Hi! Toni isn't it? We had some classes together - how's things with you?"
And hand held out to the stocky bald guy, "Have we met? I'm Doc Da... I mean Carl Davis, if we're being formal." This last with a small self-deprecating smile.
Toni looks at the crowd and recognizes many faces she has seen around the University, although, curiously, no other faculty members. She sees Sal and Carl, frowning momentarily at Sal's less than formal attire but fondly remembering late nights spent listening to Carl jam on his guitar. Then she sees someone else she recognizes.
"Why, Garrett, Ted never told me you knew Lucas. It's good to see you, again. Are you here professionally? Did something happen to Professor Stampf that required your services?"
"Toni! Well, small world, huh? Professor Stampf was one of mine and Riven's professors. Riven, meet Toni, Toni meet Riven."
If only I could’ve saved more. “I had my part in it.” Alexs’ expression changing to one more fitting for the event, yet it is clear he is not thinking of the late professor, “We got them all though. Brought down the entire ring.”
Relieved for the interruption, albeit by even an attractive woman, Alex steps just slightly to the side allowing Garrett to continue his reunions with old classmates/friends. Listening to the conversation Alex keeps his eyes on the crowd gathered. Something isn’t right. I just know it.
Edit:
Alex makes eye contact with the attractive woman and extends his hand, "A pleasure to meet you Toni."
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Alex makes eye contact with the attractive woman and extends his hand, "A pleasure to meet you Toni."
"Nice to meet you, Riven, is it? An unusual name," She smiles at Sal and Doc as they come up. "So, we were all in Professor Stampf's class, then? Did you get the same unusual letter I got? No signature, just an invitation to the funeral?"
Alex makes eye contact with the attractive woman and extends his hand, "A pleasure to meet you Toni.""Nice to meet you, Riven, is it? An unusual name," She smiles at Sal and Doc as they come up. "So, we were all in Professor Stampf's class, then? Did you get the same unusual letter I got? No signature, just an invitation to the funeral?"
"Indeed it is," Alex smiles,"My parents wanted to be different."
Alex nods at the comment about the invitations, "The crowd is out of sorts as well. No family. No colleagues."
"I got the same letter. I assumed that it was some family member going through an old address book, but looking around that doesn't quite seem to fit. Hey, maybe we could all go grab a drink after... afterwards. Catch up on old times."
"I got the same letter. I assumed that it was some family member going through an old address book, but looking around that doesn't quite seem to fit. Hey, maybe we could all go grab a drink after... afterwards. Catch up on old times."
Toni smiles at 'Doc', "That would be great, Carl. Do you have your guitar with you?" She turns to Garrett and Riven and makes introductions all around, explaining that she knows Dr. Briggs through his brother, Ted, the nuclear physicist who she met at FermiLab. "I wonder what's taking them so long to open the services?"
Alex nods in turn at the others then back to Toni, "I know, its beginning to make me nervous."
The funeral home staff opens up the hall to admit the assembled masses, though apologies are made at the shortage of available seating. A few familiar faces are seen floating around the crowd, all former classmates of yours and people you had seen around campus. Given the ages of the assembled and the topics of conversation floating around, it did not require much to deduce that all of the attendees were, in fact, former (and some possibly current) students of the Professor's.
The hall itself is spacious, for a funeral parlor, but not nearly enough to house the 50+ guests in attendance. Folding chairs had been set up in the walkway behind the established row seating to accommodate some overflow, but there would still be a dozen or so folks forced to stand in the aisles to the sides. The carpet is lush and deep red in color, the casket sitting at the front of the room accented by a similarly-colored velvet backdrop. Behind the folding chairs was the narrow remains of the walkway, providing a means to maneuver around the room as well as a small cherry-wood table with a sign-in book and memorial cards. At the podium towards the front of the room was a severe-looking man with spectacles in an expensive-looking suit, easily in his late 40s or older. Despite his stern countenance, however, he managed to smile and greet some of the attendees who approached.
The casket was indeed open, and even from the door it was evident that the body was indeed the Professor's. A few floral arrangements and condolence cards were displayed flanking the casket, and more than a few students go up to investigate the body out of curiosity. One of the younger female attendees actually begins crying quietly after seeing the body up close, at which point a young man offers up his seat to her in the front row.
Sal makes his way into the room. He first scans the room for any signs of family or anyone else close that might need comforting. Finding none he makes his way to the sign in table, takes a memorial card, and retreats to the back of the room to stand taking time to read the card, while waiting for the ceremonies to begin.
Alex gets into line with others in attendance, moving forward he signs the book and takes his moment to view the late professor. What happened old man? And where is your family? Your colleagues? Keeping his thoughts to himself he moves with the others and takes a seat, just before he does he notices a woman standing along the isle, "Please." is all he says as he gestures to the open seat for her.
Toni signs the guest book and joins the line to view the casket. When she reaches the casket, she sighs, strokes the Professor's cheek and thinks, Poor Lucas, we had some good times, didn't we? After a moment, she goes to the back of the room and stands next to Sal.
Garrett walks up and views the casket. He solemnly places a copy of his doctorate in the Professor's casket, and leans in, whispering "You owe me 50 bucks."
He then turns, and walks to the bathroom.
Strange crowd. Strange mood.
Doc considers going up to the casket, but looks at the queue and decides to just sit somewhere at the back. I can always sign the book later.
As Toni arrives back from viewing the late Professor, Doc clears his throat and says, "Ah, I don't quite know how to ask this, Toni... but... how does Prof Stampf look? Any new ideas about what happened?"
He makes a face, "Gah, that's kind of a tasteless question. I'll just shut up."
The professor's corpse is not remarkable in any particular way, though for some of those in attendance the scattered white hairs that adorned his beard were a new development. Whoever had groomed the body before display had done a commendable job with the makeup, making the Professor appear very much as he did in life, if a bit gaunt now in death.
As the assembled persons make their way to the seats (or, in many cases, the aisle), the severe-looking gentleman at the podium clears his throat.
"Thank you all for coming," the man spoke in a surprisingly deep baritone. "I'm sure many of you have a lot of questions, not the least of which may be the question of my identity. I am Jonas Gage, Professor Stampf's attorney and executor of his estate. The Professor willed me to invite all of his former students to his funeral services, but I suspected that only those who still lived in the surrounding areas would attend. Otherwise we would've needed a much larger funeral home."
Jonas managed a weak smile at his own attempt at humor. Someone in the audience suppressed a chuckle as well.
"As it stands, attendance was higher than I'd anticipated, but no matter. You are here now, and that was his dying wish. His family and colleagues have already attended a separate service earlier this morning. I did not want to add the press of a student crowd to the family's already-significant emotional stress."
The attorney seemed slightly uncomfortable at the size of the crowd arrayed before him, but maintained his composure as well as one might expect in such an unusual scenario.
"If any of you would like to share a few words at this time, the podium is open," he said, glancing around the room and adjusting his spectacles.
This should be interesting. Alex stays in his place, speaking like this has never been to his calling nor desire to do. And in honesty with the oddness of it all he'd rather stay back and watch the crowd. There was something more here; he felt it. Wonder if the old man expected this many to arrive? Seems to strange to invite everyone you ever taught.
Garrett walks back and takes a seat. This should be interesting.
Sal steps up to the podium. "Hi I'm Salvatore Victoza". "I was one of the Professors pupils". "The fact that we had to split the viewing up into two groups shows this man's popularity". "He shall be missed". "His educated and well thought out views, his humor, and his generosity are all treasures that we must learn to live without". "I like to think that he's not really gone however". "As I look about this room, and see all the people whose life he influenced, I can see that he lives on in all of us". "I'll be he's sitting up there in heaven...at least I'm assuming he took that road... With a smile and a pause.watching us all and pleased that he lives on in what he taught us all". Then turning to the casket..."Good by Professor, until we meet again
Presence/Expression
Exploding 10
1 success
A few people in the crowd are visibly moved by Salvatore's speech, though the majority can muster little more than dumbfounded stares and quiet applause.
"Thank you for those words, Mr. Victoza. Assuming there is no one else who wishes to share..." Jonas lengthens the pause, scanning the room with his bespectacled gaze. "Very well then. I will now impart to you a post-mortem address, as dictated by the last will and testament of Professor Lucas Gregory Stampf."
Producing a piece of folded paper from his pocket, the lawyer cleared his throat and glanced around nervously before proceeding. "Gathered students, if you are hearing this message then I am dead. While many of you may be troubled by this fact, some of you, particularly my present students, I'm certain are quite relieved. Rest assured that my demise will provide you no leverage for reneging on your term papers. I've already seen to it that Professor Hamilton will fill my place seamlessly. You have been warned."
A few of the gathered students chuckle, a few sigh incredulously, most stand agape with disbelief at the premeditation of this event.
Jonas continues reading: "My death, while unfortunate, is not unexpected. Indeed, if it had been, I would not have the luxury of these auto-eulogies. Many of you have met me after-hours in the past. Some of you may have even attended some of the meetings we held in the private lecture halls in the evenings. Those of you who have will know what I am talking about when I say that those meetings must never be revisited. For the sake of your very souls, forget they ever happened and move on with your lives. Any further investigation in the matter... and you could very well end up writing your own post-mortem. Thank you all, and goodbye."
The cryptic warning hangs in the air like a palpable malice that silences the crowd. Many stare blankly, others scratching their heads in confusion. A scant few, however, widen their eyes with terror and begin whispering amongst one another. One of the younger students, a young man with flat black hair and only the beginnings of a beard, immediately stands and leaves the room at speed.
Toni sees the student running from the room and the others whispering together. She looks at Sal standing next to her and says "Do you have any idea what the Professor is talking about, Sal? When I took Sociology 101, some of us used to spend time with Lucas after class, hanging out at clubs or coffee shops but we never talked about anything serious. I don't understand why people seem so upset."
"Yeah, the most occult conversation we ever had was about Robert Johnson, and whether he really did sell his soul to the devil to invent the blues. What else was the old guy up to?"
Doc joins Toni in confusion.
Alex watchings the youth run from the room, professor's still scare their students even in death, a smile creases Alexs' face with the thought. Still he commits the scarred youths face to memory.
"Must be the strangest funeral i've ever attended." Alex listens to the mumblings of the crowd, seems like there could be a new cult following showing up or perhaps maybe an old one that is getting bolder.
Alex turns to Garrett, "So any ideas?"
Sal turns to Toni, and the others...a look of concern on his face. "Let's go outside and talk for a moment". Those who follow may read the above spoiler for Sal, as he will share this information.
He will also take the time to try and remember the faces that seemed shocked, and what type of vehicle the young man that ran from the building left in. If he sees any of the worried people leave the building, he will take a moment to introduce himself, and had them his card...as a man of the cloth willing to offer counseling.
You take stock of a few of the worried faces. All of them teenagers, three women and two men, plus the other male who fled the room. A few of them bear facial piercings, including one female who sports nearly a dozen of them, and they all have dark hair... a couple of them clearly artificially so.
When you exit the building, you notice the youth who had left before you on the far side of the parking lot with a cell phone to his ear, pacing and gesturing somewhat frantically though his conversation is inaudible at this range.
Alex accompanies the others outside then once he notices the youth and his stressed conversation he nods, "I think I shall see what the boys issue is. Perhaps he is need of help."
With that Alex moves away from the others and casually walks over to the youth. Keeping his face friendly and his senses alert he attempts to read the boys lips/body language to possibly ascertain more about the situation he may be walking into.
Alex watchings the youth run from the room, professor's still scare their students even in death, a smile creases Alexs' face with the thought. Still he commits the scarred youths face to memory.
"Must be the strangest funeral i've ever attended." Alex listens to the mumblings of the crowd, seems like there could be a new cult following showing up or perhaps maybe an old one that is getting bolder.
Alex turns to Garrett, "So any ideas?"
"Oh, someone definitely murdered him. And he knew it was coming. We need to talk to some of the students who talked to him after hours and see what they know."
Garrett gets up and moves towards the door.
"I'm also positive all of them are in grave danger...lets go talk to the kid who walked out the door in a hurry, he seems to know what's going on. We may be about to interview the next victim."
Doc listens to Sal, and Garrett, then turns to Garrett with a raised eyebrow, "Are you sure you haven't been watching too much NCIS or Criminal Minds or something? I'm sure if it was murder that the police are already investigating, and won't need amateur-hour help. What makes you think anyone is in danger?"