Archer's Lane Case 01 Ch. 09

Not much time had passed before the noise started. Imogene seemed to notice it first, she sat upright at the edge of the divan and listened. When Eliza awoke, the agent had already gotten up and snuck up to a door at the side of the room, where she peeked through a keyhole. For negligence or excitement, she didn't think of closing her dress again, which made her heavy breasts dangle underneath her, when she bent down in front of the door, and for a moment Eliza enjoyed the view of the agent's naked torso.

Then she got up quietly and snuck over to her. It had gotten dark outside, and she didn't dare to turn on the electric light, so the suite was just lit by pale moonlight, and Eliza had to be careful not to stumble. "Shhhh," said Imogene when she caught up with her, and put a finger on her lips. She pulled a key from her skirt pocket and unlocked the door, cracking it open.

Through the crack, the two women could see directly into the bedroom of the president's suite, where a luxurious, wide double bed was perched against the opposite wall. It was made from dark Mahogany wood and a burgundy red roof spun across it, held up by four intricately carved pillars. Heavy, gold-embroidered curtains hung down its sides, and through them they could make out a faint blueish glow, which seemed to emanate from the blanket. And then there was the noise...

It sounded like a drawn out wail, as if someone was too weak to speak, but still wanted to make some sound, and it came from the same direction as the pale glow. Eliza and Imogene stretched to get a better look on the bed, and didn't notice Kathleen approaching them with a candle in her hand, to make some light in the gloomy room. Only when she felt the hand of her girlfriend on her shoulder, the translator turned around startled and suppressed a shriek. It was a spooky situation, and only now she realized, how tense she was.

"So that's him?" the author whispered to the maid, who only nodded quietly, not letting her eyes off the appearance. Kathleen tilted her head and looked thoughtful, then decisively pulled the door open and entered the bedroom of the president's suite. The other two women watched her tautly, but stayed back cautiously, until they were sure the situation was safe. Only when they saw the slender figure of the author at the edge of the bed, where she bent forward with her hair falling wild into her face, Eliza and Imogene scurried over to her and soon stood by her side.

The sight made Eliza's blood curl. In front of her, on the bed, seemingly covered partly by the blanket, there was an elderly gentleman. No, rather, the appearance of an elderly gent, since he was glowing with that blueish light they had seen from afar, and his features and contour were blurry and constantly warping. As far as she could see, he was handsome, tall, with strong dark eyebrows and light, full hair, and he turned in bed from one side to the other.

His lips were moving, but other than the eerie sound, Eliza couldn't understand anything. Her Eyes were glued to the mouth of the man, since she was certain he was forming sounds, which were strangely inaudible. And moreover, it let her forget the frightening situation. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed Kathleen and Imogene, as they got busy with the appearance, but only looked up to them after a while. Her boss ran her hand through the pale outlines of the man as if he was made from air, and eyed him from different perspectives.

"He tries to say something" Eliza remarked.

Her girlfriend looked at her. "How do you know?" she asked curiously.

The translator blushed. "I... I learned lip-reading as part of my training in stenography," she explained meekly. "And he speaks rather slow, so it's easy to follow his lips."

Kathleen put two fingers on her lips and pensively stared at her. "Interesting," she finally remarked. "So what does he say?"

Eliza shrugged. "Something about a Jerry and a little Martha," she summarized, and hastily offered: "Should I translate?"

"Please," her boss said and stepped aside, to allow Eliza to get closer to the face of the man.

The young translator focussed on his mouth and then said aloud what she could read there: "Jerry needs you, my lovely. Your virgin little fig will make him feel so good. Just sit down and let him enter you. Very good. Just like that, he likes that. Oh yes. You've got such a nice, tight, little..." Eliza stalled and blushed, as she began to realize, what was happening. "...cunt," she finished the sentence and looked up to her boss.

Kathleen eyed Imogene suspiciously and then shooed them both out of the room again, until they had all returned to their own suite. "Do you know anything about this?" she asked the agent keenly.

Imogene shook her head. "I don't even know what all that was about," she replied.

Kathleen sighed. "Well, it is quite obvious, isn't it?" she asked impatiently. "Our good president had some very exciting visitor in his last night. So exciting, in fact, that his heart stopped."

Eliza shook her head. It took her a while to figure out what was going on there. "One moment," she finally interjected with excitement. "Does this mean, that over there... that's... the..."

"President Harding, as he lives and breathes," Kathleen remarked sardonically. "Or rather, as he lived. His ghost is living through the last night of his life over and over again, until it can find some rest."

The translator was taken aback for a moment. "What?" she finally asked, aghast. "How? Where? Ghosts? Real ghosts? And presidential ghosts, at that? But why? And what... why us?"

Kathleen closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "My dear Miss Lane," she finally said calmly and quietly. "In my service, you'll become confronted with some things that will seem strange. We're not here to question these things; they happen, and they are sometimes horrible, often times tragic, and almost always inexplicable. We're only here to bring them to a good end."

"And how do we do that?" the maid interjected their conversation.

"Very easy, Miss Jacobson," Kathleen explained. "Obviously, the president's last night got interrupted rather abruptly by his death, and his spirit is longing to bring these events to a pleasant conclusion. So, for starters, we'll need to find out who this Martha is, and what the two of them did."

Imogene pursed her lips. "Well, what they did seems to be quite obvious," she remarked snippy, and then sighed. "I'm sorry," she said. "But I voted for Cox, and am not exactly sad about seeing this corrupt gangster pass away."

The author made a calming gesture. "Well, let's leave politics aside for now," she said. "And since you're already happy to be rid of him, let's make sure he found eternal rest. So, how do we find this ominous Martha?"

"Maybe the hotel knows," Eliza suggested.

"Very good idea," Kathleen answered and smiled brightly at her. "And that's exactly the reason why I need you by my side as an assistant, my dear." She threw a morning coat on and soon hurried down to the foyer, followed by Imogene, who hurriedly straightened her dress, and Eliza, who came behind with a proud swelling to her breast. Maybe, she thought, maybe they really were a good team.