Stagger Inn PM

Harry glanced down at the paperwork, and signed where he needed to. "No that wont be necessary. Mr. Edmonds here more then likely already notified him of my arrival; haven't you Mr. Edmonds." Without waiting for a reply Harry grabbed the room key and his luggage, "wait here a few minutes, please, then we can go see Mr. Tanner". With that Harry turned away and proceeded to make his way to his room.

Harry struggled with the lock for a moment then the door gave way to his struggles. As the door opened a stale odor and warm air slapped him in the face. "Ugg, it smells like poor people," Harry lamented. "I should remember to get some Febreze." Harry entered the room and began to unpack. Prior to leaving Harry took a quick shower to revitalize himself. All and all he was in the room for about 15 minutes. Once he dressed himself Harry locked the door behind him, and returned to the lobby.

"Mr. Edmonds," Harry began as he entered the lobby, "I think I've made Mr. Tanner wait for me long enough. Shall we go?"

"Of course sir." Edmonds had been waiting patiently in the lobby, casually reading a People magazine. "I'm sure he's more than ready for you. If you are ready?" He walked out and opened the passenger door, leaving it ajar as he started the car. "To the Galt camp then sir."
[-will be picked up in the Galt thread-]

Niall entered the bar on his mobile phone, informing the provost of the university what had gone on that day. Its wasn't every day, of course, that a professor went mysteriously missing. Someone was going to have to cover the Currans' classes, because Niall sure as hell wasn't going to go back and teach while Rebekah was still gone. "Yes sir. I'm...doing the best I can, still in shock, but... Of course, sir. Of course. I'll let you know the second there's any new information."

"We'll take care of everything back here, Dr. Curran. I'm so sorry about what's happened, I can't even imagine..."

"I know. Thank you, sir." As Niall hung up the phone, he slid into a seat at the bar. He wasn't much of a drinker, but he needed something, anything to dull the pain.

Isaac sized up his new guest, thinking for only a moment before setting a shot of whiskey in front of him. "Looks like its been a long night. Sorry to hear about the missus, doctor Curran." He left the man to his own pain, stepping back and monitoring his bar. Drinks were out, and people seemed satisfied. He spoke loud enough for all in the bar to hear him. "Strangers find strange times here. Those that can get on, best be doing so. Because there are strange things brewing and strange times coming." He shook his head and looked to the other side of the bar, seeing Trixie slink her way in. She took a seat by the fireplace, seeming lost in her own world for the moment.

"Thanks, uh... I don't believe we've been introduced." Has the news spread that quickly? Niall supposed that this was a small town, much smaller than any he'd spent a considerable length of time in; he knew from spending time in academia that gossip tended to spread fast in small populations. And a woman - an outsider, no less - disappearing from within their midst must be a fascinating subject.

Niall downed the whiskey, trying to drown his sorrows in the most cliched way possible. Didn't work yet. Needed more. He barely heard the bartender's words, but he did follow the man's gaze over to...oh no. Not her again. Honestly, Niall had had enough of Trixie Carlson for one day.

"You know anything about her?" he asked Isaac, cocking a thumb over at the blonde sitting by the fireplace.

Isaac spoke quietly, seeming to keep his tone quiet to avoid causing anything with Trixie. "And for the record, I only knew thanks to one of the officers coming by here. So, don't think I was gossiping around She ain't nothing to trifle with. She's a ghost of sorts, fading her way in and out of our town as she sees fit. It's best to leave her be unless she chooses to interact with you. She comes in every now and again, waiting for something, then she leaves on her ride. It's almost always a bad omen when she arrives. And now she's taking an interest into the town." He cracked his knuckles as he took a breath in. "And where she takes a focus to, the man hisself looks. I wouldn't bother with her. In fact, most of the town goes out of our way not to talk with her or take much notice, knowing that its best that way. Recommend you do the same, doctor. She's bad news."

Wren gave a small laugh as she realized Isaac had the drink waiting. Her laugh and thanks was cut short by the news of the missing wife. Wren was about to ask if Tommy had said anything about her getting her luggage when a seemingly downtrodden man took the stool next to her.

So that's the woman's husband

Wren listened to the exchange as she sipped her drink. At the mention of more of the townspeople's superstitions Wren's ears perked up.

"What happened to make them say that about such a lovely looking woman?" Wren asked her curiosity perked. This little town was starting to be more interesting than most of the time she had spent in the big city.

Isaac turned his head towards her, smiling a grin that seemed far older than him. "Thompson called for ya, by the by. Say's he just got it in the workspace. There's some wicked weather coming through though, might get a near whiteout. He's gon' drop your luggage off here, and get working on it in the morn." He waved off any effort to pay him and continued to talk in the same hushed tones. "She's what the downsouth used to call a voodoo woman. Somehow, she's got herself tangled in a web far too big and she wants to tangle every else with her. She used to perform down below, see, or someone looking just like her - but after the mine collapse, she still comes up. Always a pretty young thing, always in a nice dress, always a star from the golden age - but she don't belong to this world anymore than you or I belong to Hadestown. She's a traveler, and she don't always travel alone....and while she's easy to look it, she like a tigress and could kill you in the snap of a pair of fingers. I don't know what her name is, but she always looks to be the same woman, and I don't know if she's a ghost or a relative. All I know is that she brings bad luck to the town. When she starts arriving, people start leaving for no reason."

"Thanks for letting me know." Wren than lowered her voice. "So do you think She has anything to do with the wive's disappearances? Is she the one on the flier you gave the writer?" Wren was stating to feel like this trip may not be a waste of her time off. The car was going to take a while to get it fixed and from the sound of it this little town was going to be more interesting than a spa in Kansas.

If I can help here than I will just call Robyn and have her come here for our vacation. If any of this mystery turns harmful, having two doctors in town might be useful.

Wren thought looking down the bar at the blonde at the end.

"If she ain't the one on the flier, she looks close enough. I don't know if she helps the women to run off, if she provides a way for them to leave, or what the plan is. But she shows bring, brings her bad voodoo to the town, and things start happening. All sorts of odd things. I don't rightly trust her, but she's a sign of the times." Isaac watched her warily, as though expecting Trixie to leap across the room and decapitate him at any moment. "You want to talk to her, it's at your own risk. I don't want anything to do with her, but I'm not refusing her ability to be here. Not someone you want angry with you."

Niall listened to Isaac's words as he looked upon Trixie with new eyes. So she was merely a ghost of some sort? Then why had Marquette brushed her off so impatiently, as if she was just another girl? Did he know the stories the locals told about her, or did he have some special knowledge of who she really was? Niall was having a hard time believing all of what the bartender was saying about Trixie, but he knew there was something off about her besides just her fashion sense. Somewhere in between the ghost and the ordinary girl - that was where the truth of Trixie Carlson lay.

He started a bit as the woman next to him started asking questions. She looked too nicely dressed, too out of place to be a local. Another tourist? This town was just attracting all sorts.

He stuck out his hand to the woman. "Niall Curran. I'm guessing you already know my story. How'd you end up in town, if you don't mind my asking?"

Wren took Niall's hand and gave it a strong squeeze with a shake.

"I am Wren Springer. My car broke down about five miles out of town, so my feet brought me here." Wren said with a small giggle. "I am stuck here until Thompson can fix my car. I only know the most resent part of your story, and I am sorry that part has happened. I would like to extend my help if you should need it. What, may I ask, brought you to this tiny yet turning interesting town?"

Wren asked releasing Niall's hand and taking a nice sized drink from the glass in front of her. She was enjoying the idea of taking part in this ghost story but was pretty sure that the alcohol was influencing that thought greatly.

Isaac surveyed the growing crowd at his bar, knowing that soon enough they would all assemble. He was only missing a few more pieces any way. His gaze kept falling back to Trixie, a terrible version of beauty and grace with a poison sting. Quietly, he stepped away from Niall and Wren as they began to talk, polishing the martini glasses with an absent, yet not vacant stare.
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Trixie sat in front of the fire, contemplating a great many things. She heard the low buzz of conversation like a static crackling in the telephone line. It was likely about her. She didn't mind that much - in fact, she felt she had done plenty of talking for now. Blue eyes gazed into the fire, watching the flames dance and twist in a play designed just for her. The actors all temporary, the stories forgotten moments after they were told, but a play nonetheless. For her. That afterthought brought a faint grin to her mouth.

Niall smiled bitterly. "I'm a geologist. Rebekah - my wife - and I came out from Boulder to take a look at some obsidian they found down the old mineshaft here. One thing led to another and, well, here we all are." Not sure of what else to say to Wren, he turned back to his drink, noticing Isaac staring at Trixie again. He must be really terrified of her...

Almost out of nowhere, Niall remembered a story his mother had told him when he was a child. There was a spirit that appeared, wailing and sorrowful, whenever misfortune or death came calling - the banshee. She was usually a pretty young woman, with fair hair and pale skin, dressed in fine clothes. Many were afraid of her. "But the banshee is not evil," his mother had told him. "She's just trying to warn us of what's going to happen. And if you're kind to her, who knows? Maybe the banshee will help you."

Niall was pretty sure Trixie wasn't actually a banshee. Pretty sure. But the townspeople, or at least Isaac, obviously saw her as something similar - the omen of misfortune, who only appeared right before something terrible happened...

Ugh. He didn't know why he was thinking about this. Maybe he was more drunk than he thought.

Evangeline entered the bar, pulling off her hat and scarves, and sat down at the end closest to the fireplace. Warmth. Finally. She took a look around. Not too well-populated. A man and woman in conversation a few seats away from her, the bartender - Isaac, she guessed - and, in front of the fireplace, a blonde who looked like she had jumped out of a movie from the '40s. Nothing too interesting, nothing that she felt the need to check out right away.

She waved over the bartender. "Gin and tonic, please." She smiled coquettishly. "Evangeline Savoie - I'm new in town, helping the police look into those poor women who disappeared. You must be Isaac. Sheriff Crenshaw told me that you know a lot about Crestview's history."

Isaac made the gin and tonic, keeping an eye on Niall. Wordlessly, he set the drink down at the far end from the man, then stood there and waited for Evangeline. When she had chosen to re situate he spoke quietly. "A'yuh, I know a lot about the town. But for the moment, we talk quietly. That man you was next to, his wife went missing tonight. Like as not where you just come from. But I have a voodoo lady in here tonight, a member of the Ghede itself, and I ain't leaving her outta my sight." Isaac spoke in a factual tone, as though his ideas were on equal footing with terms like 'water is wet' and 'fire hot'. He quickly summarized the mine collapse, eyes flicking back to Trixie sporadically. "Anything else you want to know?"

Evangeline blinked, trying not to show her confusion at what she had just heard on her face. Fucking voodoo? Really? She thought she'd escaped all that bullshit when she left Louisiana, which was literally the one good thing about leaving. She had definitely not expected to run into someone in Crestview, Colorado, of all places, who believed in it. And there was no way that blonde girl was a ghede - maybe a hipster or some retro costume person, but not supernatural. Still, she figured, she might as well play along; no reason to antagonize Isaac, even if he was obviously delusional.

"Oh, I see," she replied, in a quiet but earnest voice. "Yes, good idea; back home in Louisiana I had a friend who crossed a voodoo lady. Didn't end up well for my friend, let me tell you." She glanced over at the other man, mentally making the connection that that was the missing woman's husband, but didn't go over to him. She actually agreed with Crenshaw that it was probably best to have Mr. Curran speak to the people he already knew; an FBI agent would probably scare him off. They always did.

"But I wanted to ask you about something different," she continued. "Do you know anything about the old train that used to run through here, the 309?"

Isaac paused, sizing up the woman in front of him. "The 309, huh. That's a wicked tale in and of itself. And this isn't the first telling of the night." He paused, pouring himself a shot of whiskey. "I doubt it'll be the last either. The 309 ain't run since before the mine fell. It used to ferry in and out of Hadestown, the most reliable way to move equipment and supplies. It never was a passenger train, at least never was meant to be - even before they used it to the mine, Galt company owned it. Used it in the war effort to ship boys home all over the country, each of em riding in a little pine box. Other than delivering the dead from overseas, it didn't do much. In fact, the last time it ran was after the collapse. They loaded the bodies onto the 309, and sent her topside with the cargo of those who had been lost below. A few years after that, the wreckage was walled off and blocked up, and nobody's been down there since. And the 309 now jus' sits there, a skeleton of some mechanical beast long dead. Anything else that I can tell you?"

Evangeline sat and listened to the tale, sipping her drink. So the 309 was a symbol of death, carrying the soldiers and the victims of the mine collapse to their final destinations. Fitting, if someone was ferrying the wives to their final destinations, so to speak, to leave a reminder of the death train... Evangeline knew it was premature to suspect a serial criminal at this point in her investigation, but that was where the clues seemed to be pointing.

"So, if it wasn't a passenger train, what would tickets have been used for?" she asked. "As I understand it, there were several different iterations of a ticket created for the train; Sheriff Crenshaw mentioned that the printing press they used is still in town."

"It wasn't a traveling train, but passengers used it. Sometimes grieving family would come for the last ride home. They'd get a ticket, course, to make sure that they were legitimate. Nobody riding to pick out gold in the teeth or loot watches. Then after that, the tickets were used to track people who would oversee shipments. Think of it an an older expense report." Isaac smiled, drinking the whiskey in one gulp. "But most of the time, I'd say ninety percent, the riders of the 309 didn't know or care what they rode. No tickets for them, jus' a stack of boxes. The printing press made most of the tickets, this was a good stopper between the Denver and western runs. The trains and the mine built this town and kept it alive. Now, we all just waiting for the town to die." He watched Trixie over Evangeline's shoulder as she leaned forward, looking into the fire intently. A light smile crossed his face. She saw things in the fire sometimes, he was pretty certain, and they never seemed to be good things. Maybe he'd be rid of her yet. "And that train never ran late, never derailed, never crashed, and never missed a shipment. It knew it was important to take them bodies home, and it always did. Then it kept the men down in the pits alive. And when they died, in a way, it died too."

Made sense enough. Grim story, to be sure, but nothing that seemed to offer any more insight into the disappearances besides the train-death symbolism. It occurred to Evangeline that she should probably question Isaac more formally; she made a mental note of it, but didn't think it was too high a priority. Crenshaw had likely done so already, and she didn't think Isaac seemed the type to skip town.

"Thank you, that was very helpful." She leaned in closer and spoke even more quietly. "Now, can you tell me anything about that voodoo lady? Voodoo's not something you see a whole lot up here in Colorado; how do you know she's one of the ghede?" She didn't actually think the blonde was supernatural in the least, of course, but the fear Isaac seemed to have of her could mean something. From what she could remember of the voodoo myths she'd heard whispered at sleepovers in junior high, the ghede were supposedly psychopomps, guiding people to the afterlife... Maybe not actually responsible for the disappearances, but there was a definite possibility that the girl was linked somehow.

"No, no, no, I doubt she's a real ghede herself. She just acts like one. I've studied a lot of religions. Read a lot. It's about the only thing to do sometimes. Like I said once already, she shows up before bad things happen. She come strolling into town, calm as she can be, and then the world falls to hell around her. Then she leaves, and we all have to pick up the wreckage. Myself, I was born and raised in Florida. By the glades. Got to learn about voodoo from a neighbor lady, Mama Croix. Thought it was fascinating, so I took to reading up on it. I won't say I believe in it all, but sometimes it makes more sense than anything else." Isaac looked at Trixie with a mix of fear and respect.

"If she isn't ghede, she's close. She walks a line we don't see, and she might fall to either side herself. This town has a long history of calling to lost souls - the miners and immigrants that formed it and all those wanderers that have come through since. I only talked to her once, and even then, I just took her drink order and gave her a piece of mail that had come in here. Don't know how she knew it was here, I'd never seen her in my life at that point, but she came right in and asked for it. Since then, she comes in from time to time, but talks to nobody. And that's just fine by me."

Ah. Everglades. That explained it. Evangeline had been sure that the accent wasn't normal for Colorado, but she hadn't quite been able to place it. Her sister Bernadette's husband, Louis, had spent a few years in Okeechobee as a kid, and the accent sometimes came out. Along with the weirdness.

So the only thing the girl had done was act strange? Evangeline hadn't spent much time in Crestview, but from what she could see that was pretty much par for the course. It did sound like she was a bit antisocial, though... Hard to do in a small town like this, which could be significant. It would probably be in Evangeline's best interests to talk to the girl tonight, since it sounded like she didn't come out very often.

She smiled brightly. "Well, thank you so much, Isaac, you've been such a help. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go and warm myself up a little closer to the fire." Without so much as a glance back, she picked up her drink and sat herself down on the couch by the fire, not too close to the blonde but close enough to be able to speak to her.

"Excuse me, miss?" She stuck out her hand towards the girl. "Evangeline Savoie, I'm afraid I'm new in town. Have you lived here long?"

"Miss Savoie, charmed to meet you." Trixie barely looked away from the fire for a few moments, then turned and daintily shook the hand offered. She sized up Evangeline with an almost predatory stare. After a moment, she smiled very faintly. "I'm not really a local here, Evangeline. And I don't know what new forms of paranoia Isaac has filled your head with, but I'm not the devil either." Trixie finished her drink, setting the glass down on the small end table. "I'll save you time. I don't know you, and you aren't really worth my time. You don't interest me, you don't entertain me, and you don't recognize me. So whatever nonsense you've heard of me doesn't matter. Now please, piss off. I'm trying to relax here." Trixie turned her attention back to the fire, an air of smug satisfaction seeming to envelop her. If there was one thing that she could not stand, it was other women. They always tried to take the attention, the limelight, and the glory. And if any of them thought they could tell her what to do....Hades help them. She had overheard the conversation at the bar, at least in snippets, and had a good idea as to who this woman was and what she would want - but she was under no obligation to give anything to her.

Evangeline smiled widely. Non-cooperative. These were always fun. "I think you misunderstand, Miss...what was your name again?" she continued smoothly, her voice still low and intimate so as to not bring outside attention to their conversation. "I wasn't, shall we say, convinced by our friend's stories about you. I don't think you're the devil or anything like that. I think you're a person same as anyone else here. And I think it's a little unfair to be talking about someone behind their back, so I decided I'd come over and talk to you a little. Because to be honest, miss, even if you don't find me interesting, I think you seem like the most interesting person in this little town here. So let's start again. My name is Special Agent Evangeline Savoie. I'm with the Federal Bureau of Investigation out of Denver, and I was sent down here to investigate a couple of disappearances. It's my job to ask everybody questions, and that includes you. Now, miss - are you aware at all of what happened to Rebekah Curran or Brianne Montgomery recently?"