(PC) Let's Play Mystery Case Files: Ravenhearst Part 8
1BRIEFING
Entry #8 (I Must Return Home)
May 24, 1895
Meredith was quite compassionate regarding my situation. She offered to pack my belongings, but I could not let her. She has already done so much, gone far beyond what her duties dictate. Charles did not react in such a manner. I informed him that I had to leave, that my father was ill, and my family required my presence. He was greatly upset, nearly going into a tirade. He made an attempt to flatter me, I believe, with the explanation that his new home would be named in my honor. I must wonder if he is attempting to secure my return to England. I must prepare my departure and cannot think of such things right now.
Time Limit (Standard/Relaxed): 18 minutes/36 minutes
Required Items: 30
Total Items: 32
LOCATIONS
Garage: 8
Garden: 8
Servant’s Quarters: 8
Widow’s Walk: 8
THE LOCKSMITH
Chapter 8 – Bildungsroman
As it turned out, Charles’ roommate would serve as his key assistant on the matter. A supple Lancashire lad and old friend from his secondary days, Reginald Somerset was hired by Charles to provide him with company during his otherwise lonely nights of zealous studying in his dormitory. Thanks to the money he made developing armerizide, the cost was easy to manage. As his first true friend, his impact on Charles was immeasurable. He often wistfully recounted tales of his crush, an elegant lady by the name of Rose Bell, so frequently that it often provided Charles with the opportunity of a vicarious romance.
However, Reginald knew details that would assist Charles more than romantic postulating. To supplement his income and practice when he returned to his uncle’s pub in Blackpool, he took a job as a barkeep at the local gentleman’s club. Faculty and graduate students alike patronized the establishment, whether as relaxation from a hard day’s work or as procrastination from occupational obligations. The tips were more than impressive, so Reginald took the position and began to ingratiate himself in the personal lives of his customers.
One day, as a group of English professors gossiped over glasses of cognac, Reginald heard mention of Tym in their conversations. Considering their familiarity with Charles’ greatest rival and their regular arrival on the weekends, it was easy to eavesdrop and stitch together a gist of their conversations. Apparently, rumors were spreading around campus that Tym’s activities after work were far more salacious than meetings with the local aesthetes. A common refrain in their banter was that of an establishment known as “The Pearl”, though most of the time their recollections on the matter were more hearsay than memory. It took little more than a chat with the resident barflies to confirm that the location was a brothel in the north of the city. Based on what they said, it was one of the seediest of its kind outside of London. Rumor had it that the Pearl even housed an opium den in its basement, with stock sprawling from across the British Empire’s Asian claims.
Like an amateur detective, Charles decided to pay a visit to the establishment on July 28, 1890. His plan was simple: find a worker that Tym frequented, bribe them to confess, and then us their findings to undermine their client. With his money and charm, Charles found little resistance with the brothel’s madam, a viperously beautiful Bengali woman named Priya. All he had to do was lie about being friends of Tym for her to give him the name of the woman he frequented the most: Ghotai.
Despite her makeup and tight corset, it was obvious that she was in poor shape. Gaunt and bruised, Charles realized that it would be easy to milk Ghotai of information with the predicate of money and escape. Upon meeting the emaciated Pashtun woman, he claimed that he was actually a reporter for the London Times, investigating underground brothels as part of an upcoming article. Tantalized, Ghotai began her confession, recounting how she was trafficked out of her native Afghanistan, as did many other young women out of Asia. Much like her, they were almost always teenagers, allured by the chance of a better life. At fifteen, she admitted that she was one of the luckier ones, letting what wasn’t said do the talking.
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