Telegrams and Letters from Lillian for 2nd Session
Telegram
Evelyn Woodworth, Lillian’s friend and private tutor to the Locksley girls, receives the following telegram:
PLEASE MAKE SURE THIS REACHES ISABELLA AND DARLA LOCKSLEY AND MAKE INTRODUCTIONS FOR ME STOP A THOUSAND THANKS WILL WRITE SOON LOVE LILLIAN STOP FIND MYSELF TRAVELING WITH MARTIN STOP HE NEEDS LOOKING AFTER AND I DONT KNOW THE BEST WAYS TO HELP HIM STOP ANY ADVICE GRATEFULLY RECEIVED STOP VERY URGENT STOP A GENTLEMAN SHOULD BE AT HIS BEST ESPECIALLY IN DIRE CIRCUMSTANCES STOP THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH STOP HOPE WE MEET SOON STOP DEEPEST AFFECTION LILLIAN AVERY
Letter
Sent by airmail to “somewhere in Mexico”.
Dearest Aunt Anne,
I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last letter. They read your mail at the Joy Grove Asylum, and almost everything I wanted to tell you was just the sort of thing I didn’t want the doctors reading, so there just wasn’t any point in bothering. Months in the asylum, and still I've yet to find anyone who can teach me any more about my particular brand of madness. The doctors were convinced I suffered from any number of exotic afflictions, but they're all well meaning egomaniacs at best, dangerous quacks at worst. My fellow patients, however, were universally convinced that I was perfectly sane, and I found that they had a much better understanding of madness than the staff.
I stayed on a bit longer than necessary, as I wanted to help some of my new friends get better if I could, but then the strangest thing happened. A very clever and capable [archaic term] woman snuck into the asylum pretending to be part of the staff, and went looking through old patient files. One of my invisible friends told me that she saw the wall that is sometimes a mouth. Maybe that was why she pretended to be someone else when she came back the next day. She was accompanied by an Italian mafioso pretending to be a lawyer, and our lady pilot friend Joyce Summers! She was pretending to be a proper southern lady, which just made me laugh so very hard. I was sure they'd all be locked up, but they weren't. Maybe it's because they all knew they were pretending, or maybe they just weren't good enough at it to be interesting to the doctors. In any event, they talked to two of the most interesting people at the asylum, Douglas Henslow and Edgar Job. Neither of them are crazy either, at least, not quite, but they are very strange. They were with one of the worst doctors, Jonathan Keaton, but they got him to leave them alone.
The voices told me that I was meant to go with them, but I didn't listen. Then they left, and the voices wouldn't leave me alone until I checked myself out of the asylum, found out where they were going, and bought a train ticket for New York. I still don't know what my invisible friends are, but they continue to be right about things far more often than they are wrong.
I met Joyce at the airfield and told her that she should take me with her to Los Angeles. She was worried that she would have to take care of me and that I might get hurt, and I was about to try to convince her that the voices hadn't misled me. Then the wall of the hanger went transparent and I could see some clumsy thug trying to sneak up on us. I need to keep studying my quick disables, as I wasn’t able to remove him from the fight right away. Poor Joyce had to deal with the other three with a gun I gave her. Rough and tumble Joyce looked so funny holding my little derringer. Luckily Mr. Walker arrived and chased one off with that big, heavy wrench of his. He really handles it quite masterfully.
Mr. Walker seems to be a rather remarkable man. On that note, I was wondering, if it’s not too much trouble, if you could make some discreet inquiries about Mr. Cecil Walker. He graduated from Johns Hopkins sometime in the last 4 to 8 years, I suspect, and his family seems to be based somewhere in upstate New York, not too far from the city. I’d very much appreciate knowing if his family is the sort that Mother and Father would consider “suitable”. As I am presently in Los Angeles, I expect that I may encounter cousin Richard at any time, and it would be very helpful to know more about Mr. Walker before that happens.
As I said, the voices proved to be quite correct that I’m needed here, as we’re looking into some wretched, awful things that were done years ago by some wretched, awful people. A very large number of people died in the most fascinating ways. I saw some photographs of the bodies. There included excellent examples of the sorts of combat injuries you taught me about, and several more that inspire the most amazing speculation about how they could have occurred. I’d love to discuss the more interesting bits with you
I am a bit put out that the voices didn’t bother to tell me about Jack Pizner, the wretched pile of excrement and rotten excuse for a private investigator who ambushed me with a sap and a pistol. I’m so ashamed of myself for letting him get the drop on me. I’ve been relying too much on my invisible friends, and not practicing the observational techniques you taught me. But I’m glad that my dharmic burden brought me here, because it could have been Cecil or Joyce or even poor dear Martin attacked by that goon, and I’m much more deserving and prepared for that sort of abuse. It seems that some of the awful, wretched people are still around, including Jack’s bosses, Captain Walker and some fellow named Trammel, and I expect we’ll need to pay them a visit.
I hate to bring up an old argument, but I think more and more that my marital duties (if I ever do marry) will never be as pleasant as you claim. I’m incurring quite a karmic burden from the damage that I’m doing to men’s bodies, and I’ll obviously have to work off that debt by doing kind and pleasant things to the body of a more deserving man. I hate to contradict my dear auntie, but I’m afraid I can’t believe that working off my debt would be pleasant for me, so I’m becoming more sure it will turn out to be a mildly uncomfortable chore. I hope that, if I’m good, I can learn to take a certain satisfaction in doing well, like cleaning a gun or grooming a horse. That’s what the pamphlet I read at school said I should expect.
And soon we’re going to go visit Hollywood! Oh, I’m trying not to get too excited, but it’s all a bit much. I’ll ask our friend Arlo Kimmer to make some introductions, because we need to talk to someone rather famous about the investigation. Olivia Clarinden was involved in the original incident all those years ago.
I wonder if there’s any chance I’ll meet Mr. Milestone, or any of the cast All’s Quiet On The Western Front? I adore that movie. I should try to get some sleep. It’s going to be a very busy day tomorrow.
All my love,
Your grandniece,
Lillian