Any death diminishes me, because I am involved....

(( I'm repeating my blog posts from the Laura Dreadlow roleplay here. For the full story, go to http://dsins.blogspot.com/ ))




"She told him everything, her therapist, that little dead girl. She couldn't stop talking. She told him about all the people she knew secrets about. She told him about *you*. Who will *he* tell her secrets to? Who is going to know all about you?"


I don't think I knew the girl. I mean, I knew who she was, of course, and it's even possible I may have spoken to her once or twice, but if I did I don't recall. I'm sure I never knew her name, I would have remembered it if I did. It's the same as mine.

Although we share the same uncommon surname, we're not related. At least, I don't think we are. The line from my grandfather's first marriage has never been fully explored, and there was another (a black sheep, I was always told) who was part of the Welsh exodus to Patagonia a couple of generations earlier. My grandmother was never very forthcoming on our ancestry and I don't think it's too fanciful to say that her uneasiness when the subject came up betrayed a hint of long-suppressed scandal.

The sudden death of a young person always shocks and scares. Underneath all the anger and the grief, when it's clear the agent of death is another human hand there's always a nagging sense of guilt and failure among those still around. Within such a small community the death of anyone in such circumstances diminishes us all in the fullest sense. I didn't know her and I hope I don't know the person or persons associated with her death, but we lived in the same place, we must have used the same stores and other facilities, and I'm sure we knew many of the same people. I don't mind admitting it's shaken me. I'm frightened, but I'm not sure what of.

And now, after her death, we have moved closer still. An anonymous note was passed under my door. I have no idea who by even though I was at home when it happened. It had no name or address and could possibly have been delivered to the wrong address, but somehow I know that isn't the case. I know it was for me.

I have no idea who wrote it. It contains references to a therapist and is neatly punctuated, which suggests an educated hand. The only therapist I can think of in town is Dr. Balut, who is most definitely not a *he*. As it's the only real clue I have, I may have to start by making a few discreet enquiries at the hospital.

Discretion will have to be my watchword. The reference to secrets is a clear statement of intent from the writer, the threat of revelation all too clear. But what secrets? What could that poor girl possibly have known about me, and -(with a chill of sudden realisation at the thought)- did whatever she know about me have anything to do with her death? Was the writer of the note more than just her therapist in this story, and what does he now want from me?

I know I won't be able to do this alone, but who can I turn to? Who can I trust, knowing that one small slip of judgement could be enough to jeopardise my own position in this town and even put my life, and those of others, in danger? The local newspaper editor, Dita, is keen, maybe too much so. I'm not sure I want her digging into my past, and there's something about her that makes me feel.... er, well, it's probably best not to go into that right now.

There are one or two other names that spring to mind, but can I really justify dragging them into this, possibly even putting their lives at risk too? There is one I'm sure I can trust, but with others I may have to be more circumspect about how much I divulge. I don't like to think of myself as using people, but this may really be a case of the less they know, the better all round.

One thing is clear. I shall have to find out more before I become trapped in - what?

(( I'm repeating my blog posts from the Laura Dreadlow roleplay here. For the full story - and pictures - go to http://dsins.blogspot.com/ ))


I read the newspaper report about the burglary at the therapists's practice, but I didn't connect it to the note I received until later. If nothing else, this has taught me that I need to be a lot sharper. I'm now thinking that the note probably came from a third party rather than from the therapist himself. Did this person know what to look for, or was the note to me just an opportunity taken after a chance find? I don't know for sure if there is a connection but it does at least give me something to go on, and now I have a name - Dr Jake Hobie.

Early the next morning I went to the Dogs Bollocks for a coffee. The coffee isn't great there but I like the feel of the place (when the owner isn't around) and the location, so close to the sea. It helps me to wake me up.

There was only one other patron in there at that time, Nancy, the cousin of poor Laura. I did want to speak to her but I hadn't planned on looking for her yet. She had far too many other things on her mind, after all.

I found her to be still edgy, which was no surprise, but on the whole she seems to be bearing up quite well. She's managed to find out a little more about her cousin's lifestyle, including some suggestions which are likely to raise a few eyebrows.

She also mentioned that the dead girl had been seeing Dr Hobie, which of course made me sit up and take notice. It seems he works out of a room over the Daily Sins newspaper office. I'll have to take a look. I could ask Dita what she knows about it, but I'll need to be careful what I say to her. She's sure to have a few questions of her own.

Anyway, back to Nancy. She said her mother amd Laura's are sisters, and that both she and Laura were only children. My heart went out to her when she said that. I did ask if she knew anything about Laura's father, but she said she knew very little. I can see I'm not going to have an easy time finding out more about that line.

We chatted a bit more and it seems that we have a few other mutual acquaintances in this and nearby towns, so it's likely we'll be seeing more of each other while she's around. She's a bright girl, but vulnerable, and I have an uneasy feeling she's going to have a lot more pain to go through before she finds any peace.

Later on I did get to speak to Dr Balut at the hospital. She didn't know Dr Hobie but offered to make enquiries. She'd read the newspaper report too, of course, and I expect she has her own reasons for wanting to find out more about him. On my way back I stopped off at his place but the door leading upstairs was locked and there was no reply when I rang the bell. The newspaper office was empty too so I shall have to try another day.

(( I'm repeating my blog posts from the Laura Dreadlow roleplay here. For the full story - and pictures - go to http://dsins.blogspot.com/ ))


Feel the Deep Blue Enfolding You


After my conversation with Nancy Neiro, I was more determined to find out what her dead cousin may or may not have said about me. As I still had no clue who might have sent me the note, paying a visit to the Doctor looked like the only option. I wasn't totally convinced this was a wise course of action but, realistically, what else could I do?

I was trying to think of a way of approaching him when I found the answer staring back at me from the newspaper. Dr Hobie was looking for a secretary of 'mature appearance and disposition'. Hmm. I don't know shorthand but I can probably pass on the appearance criteria. The advert gave a box number, but I couldn't take the chance on that. I decided to go to see him directly, and the present seemed like as good a time as any to do it.

I was feeling decidedly nervous by the time I reached the office, and my initial contact with the therapist did nothing to calm me. The tallish, distinguished-looking gentleman was obviously expecting someone, which immediately put me on my guard. By the time we'd established that I wasn't the cleaner I began to feel a little easier.

The doctor mentioned very early on that he could recall absolutely nothing of the raid on his premises. This was disappointing but not wholly unexpected. He also asked me to sign a couple of papers, citing reasons of confidentiality. I didn't pay much attention to what I was signing, but as I wasn't there to look for gossip to spread or sell - I'm more concerned with making sure certain information doesn't get out - it didn't worry me unduly at the time.

He was more concerned on making sure all he could remember of the dead girl was committed to paper again, and as soon as possible, which suited my purposes very well. What did concern me was the method he had chosen to do this. He intended to use some kind of self-hypnosis, which he launched straight into the moment he settled himself into his chair, with me perched precariously on a flimsy-looking side table beside him.

Once he'd managed to hypnotise himself, he launched into what I soon understood to be his hidden memories of a conversation he'd had, presumably in that very office, with Laura Dreadlow herself. Electrified, I picked up my pencil and began to write down as much as I could. What follows is a fairly accurate copy of my notes, such as thay are, although I will allow my transcription to be not fully complete, and there may be a couple of occasions where I misheard the Doctor.

====================================


Dr. Jake Hobie pauses and then says "I am going to count backwards from three, and you will sink gently beneath the waves into the deep blue. When I reach one, you will be perfectly still, and you will be able to have a pleasant dream, of the first time that Laura Dreadlow came into your office" - Three - sinks slowly downwards - two - feel the deep blue enfolding you - One - you are now in your office with Laura Dreadlow"

Laura's voice: So Doc, want to know why I came to see you?

Dr. Jake Hobie: Your father and Mother wanted me to talk to you about your strange behaviour

Laura's voice (laughs): You don't know a thing, Doc. I made my father send me to you. I wanted to see if you were as crazy as the town says you are

Dr. Jake Hobie: Isn't that a sort of strange thing to do, Laura, making your father send you to see a therapist?

Laura's voice: I'm a kind of strange girl, Doc, are you man enough to handle me? I can bite, you know, and there's a few boys around town will testify to that. Well, no, they *won't testify, that's the beauty of having a mobile phone that takes pictures and records voices, they'll do exactly what I ask them to do. Except the real thing, (sad note of irritation), there's things that boys can't do for a girl, you know what I mean, Doc?

Dr. Jake Hobie: I can imagine all sorts of things, Laura, they probably won't let you drive their cars, for instance.

Laura's voice (laughs): Oh Doc, what makes you think I want to be in the *front* seat? I'm a back-seat girl, all the way. (laughs again) aren't you going to ask me about my mother? That's what all trick-cyclists say, isn't it? "we seem to have avoided talking about your mother"

Dr. Jake Hobie says "Your mother was very concerned about you when I spoke to her, she wanted me to, well, no, I'll not ask you that, it's my job to get you to ask the questions of yourself.

Laura's voice (laughing harder): She's not my mother, Doc. She's my father's wife. But that doesn't mean she's my mother, does it? Know what I mean?

Dr. Jake Hobie: Um, she seems to think she's your mother, Laura.

Laura's voice: She *pretends* to be my mother, Doc, but she can't be, she had a hysterectomy after a car-crash, three years before I was born. And my father was the driver. She never forgave him for that. He had turned his head to look at a woman in a short skirt bending over the engine of her broken-down car, and didn't see the truck pull out in front of them.

Dr. Jake Hobie: But that doesn't stop her from loving you as if she were your natural mother, Laura. Is it this which has made you so upset about things?

Laura's voice (laughs): I'm not upset, Doc, don't you get it? I'm fine, it's them that are upset, her and him. He, because she never lets a day go past without reminding him what a poor father he has been, her, because she's jealous of whoever it was he slept with to get me to give to her to try and make up for the wrong he had done.

(( That was when I snapped my pencil lead and had to rummage around in my bag for a replacement. I don't think I missed anything, and I'm fairly certain what I did manage to get down was accurate. ))

Laura's voice: Doc, why is it you types always sit behind the patient? If you sat at the foot of the couch, you could look up my skirt and see what I'm wearing underneath.

Dr. Jake Hobie: Laura, that's very improper, and I wouldn't dream of abusing this situation in such a way.

Laura's voice; Well, suppose I suddenly get an itch and have to scratch doc? See, there's one now. I'll just pull my skirt up a bit and see if I can rub it and make the itch go away.

(( I found myself scratching my own legs in sympathy with Laura and dropped my pencil. It's possible I didn't get everything here. ))

Dr. Jake Hobie: That's quite enough, Laura. I think we should stop at this point, and resume next week.

Dr. Jake Hobie begins to breathe harder and seems to become agitated, moving his head from side to side, and then speaks in a calmer-deeper voice, "I am going to count up th three, and you will rise up out of the deep blue, and let the waves carry you back to the beach, where you will awaken when I say three. One - two - three

====================================


Dr Hobie appeared to break out of his trance quite easily. I offered to type up my notes and he readily agreed, although his reminder about the confidentiality agreement I had signed put a nagging doubt in my head, as though there was something significant I had missed about the whole thing. He then ushered me out rather abruptly, saying he needed to lie down. It was clear the headache he had from the blow he received during the robbery was still troubling him.

But somehow I had the feeling that lying down was the last thing on his mind. Whether there was something in the session that had triggered some other memory, I don't know, but he seemed both tired and agitated. I thought it better not to push my luck by hanging around. I knew I would be back inside that office again very soon, drawn by its intriguing occupant and the secrets it holds so close, yet also so tantalisingly accessible.

(( I'm repeating my blog posts from the Laura Dreadlow roleplay here. For the full story - and pictures - go to http://dsins.blogspot.com/ ))


For the Rain, it Raineth Every Day


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gMM4oYOSOB4&feature=related

I have taken to sitting out in front of Zoe's cafe recently, even when it isn't open. I like the location. It gives shelter from both the wind and the rain - I still can't get over how much more changeable the weather has become since the earthquake. There's also a comforting nostalgia about the cafe itself with its retro decor, the transistor radio, the wonderful traditional food - and, of course, the wonderful traditional owner.

I was sitting outside Zoe's late one evening when a girl I vaguely recognised came along. She dipped under the shelter of the umbrella at my table to avoid one of those sudden rain showers and we got talking. It was Sapphire Emmons, who I hadn't seen since before the flood at Deadend. She said she's staying with her friend Lynx now, in a house which is very near mine.

There's a poster of Laura Dreadlow on the window of the cafe, and our conversation drifted around to that poor girl. Sapphire had moved in with Lynx at about the time Laura's body was found. I don't think the two had ever met, but it was clear she had already picked up quite a bit - and not just from the newspapers.

Sapphire told me that Lynx had thrown a housewarming party the week before she arrived (on April 9th, I think she said). Laura had been there. Naturally I became more interested when she said that. She then talked about another friend of Lynx's, a girl called Laz, who was also staying there. She said Laz wears a snake around her neck, which might help to explain why my cat has been behaving so oddly recently. And she also said that Laz had hit Laura at the party, causing Laura to lose a tooth.

I caught up with Sapphire again a few days later at Lynx's house - number seven - and was introduced to a baby-blue-haired Laz, complete with snake. There was certainly something disconcerting about her. I wasn't able to find out any more about Laura or the party, which was a little disappointing, but I'll try again when I get another chance.

I don't really expect this will help me get closer to my real goal of finding out if Laura and I are related, but the more I find out the more I'm becoming drawn towards her in ways I cannot explain. I have an uneasy feeling I may be left wishing I hadn't heard of Laura in the first place, which I sincerely hope won't happen. Whatever she may have been or done in her short life, she surely deserves much better than that.



=================================================



I should have seen something out of the corner of my eye, or heard the footsteps on the gravel, but I was so engrossed in my work for the therapist that I missed it all. My head was pulled sharply back by the hair and a wire wound around my neck. I was under no illusions of what would happen if I were to disregard the accompanying threat.

It all happened so quickly. I was marched into the empty cafe and forced down behind the counter. My arms were bound with clingfilm and the binding didn't stop until I was wrapped in the clear plastic from head to toe. The wire was removed but I wasn't breathing any easier, the film making me so hot and uncomfortable. I was only dimly aware of a male voice. It wasn't long before I passed out completely.

It was Zoe who found me, for which I was thankful. How long I lay there I honestly don't know. Even when the clingfilm came off it was quite a while before I was able to breathe easily.

I was beginning to wonder what the incident was all about, when I noticed something my assailant had left behind him. Jam. Lots of it. All over Zoe's fridge door. Zoe did mention the flavour, but I can't recall what it was or if that held any significance. It took me a few moments to realise that it wasn't just a random pattern, either. There was a message spelled out -

"Too many cooks can spoil the broth,
Too many looks will boil my wrath -
let the dead lie in peace"

I have no idea what it meant other than it seemed to be a warning, of sorts. Neither Zoe nor Dr Hobie (who I hadn't noticed entering the restaurant) knew either. Zoe's police background took over at this point as she carefully preserved what she could of the evidence. I was in no condition to take in much of what was going on, so after a strong black coffee I went home.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q910HEkDOmE&feature=related