Eustace Delmont and the Case of the Rambler's Inn 03 - Arrests, Chats, and Tunnels, In No Particular Order

Previously, on Eustace Delmont

The year is 1996. The Rambler's Inn is an old inn mashing together multiple architectural styles and currently acting as the main tourist destination in Maidenstead, Alabama. Maidenstead is a decaying but still quite cozy town very near to the Gulf Coast while other locations in nearby Gulf Shores and Orange Beach and Mobile are complete dominating most of the tourist trade. The Rambler is for a particular type of guest, ones who prefer a sense of the past and cheaper rates over more modern amenities. 

The Reeds who have owned the Rambler for generations are looking to sell.  Unfortunately for the Reeds, one of the guests disappeared while staying in the Rambler's "most haunted" room. Unfortunate for Amy Patel (the guest), as well. 

Someone rigged up equipment to disrupt the security cameras on the night this happened. It may or may not be related. Likewise, a shady dog catcher - who just happens to the son of the richest family in town - was snooping around to trick tourists' pets into being trapped. The dog catcher's semi-secret half-brother, the town Chief of Police, seems to be in on the scam. And both dog catcher and the police chief have a disdain for our hero: Eustace Delmont. 

Delmont met Hitomi Meyers (she being the daughter of an German-American megachurch pastor and a British-Japanese professor of some renown) and then helped her to get her dog back from the catcher. Hitomi recently moved to Mobile, Alabama to spend time with her sister, Daphne. Daphne, and her boyfriend, are kicking off a media project to record hauntings and sell the tapes through subscription plan. The ghost hunters recently moved into the Rambler as part of a publicity stunt. Hitomi protested because of a strict no-dogs policy. 

Hitomi has temporarily moved into a room over Ralph Harley's shop. Harley runs an electronic shop and is Eustace's boss. 

Oh, and Eustace is about to be arrested.

[Reminder, text in <<angle quotes (or, to be fancy, guillemet)>> is by Hitomi Delmont, currently (in 2027) editing Eustace's somewhat overblown rendition of his own adventures which all started here with this one. All other text is Eustace's...buckle up.] 

Current Threads

• King: The Disappearance of Amy Patel
• Queen: The Disruption of the Tapes
• Jack: The Chief and the Dog Catcher

Part 03 - Arrests and New Allies, in No Particular Order (but also actually in that precise order)

Eustace

Eustace Delmont, like many romantic figures from the vast oeuvre of fantastic detective fiction, was besieged by dreams of a particularly prophetic variety. Later, when asked, he would say that such dreams were merely a sign of his sleeping brain piecing together the puzzle that his waking brain could not...due to distraction <<Aww, Eu, you flirt, calling me a distraction>>. The dream was rather simple albeit bordering upon sinister. Delmont found himself in a shadowy place like a great field of grass with the sound of surf pounding around him. In front of him, some distance away (miles or feet depending on the given moment) was either a great large structure the size of a mountain or a rather small building pretending to be a great big one. Like an entire resort in miniature to fit in the rough size of a middle-class American's house. 

It would be wrong to call the structure an exact replica of The Rambler's Inn but it also was exactly that. The very many stories and ideas and concept of the Rambler experienced all once by a person who has lived a lot of his life in the shadow of a place that both does and does not represent Maidenstead. A place of ghost sightings, missing tourists, family dramas, strange tales, and immensely practical business dealings. A spot where 90% of the weddings by locals are hosted while only 10% of the locals set foot inside of any reason other than employment (it being the third largest employer of the town losing out to fisheries and folks who travel a town or two over to work in a more successful town's businesses). 

In the dream, dream-Delmont lifted an arm and pointed to a rectangular stone planter box a few feet from a surprisingly blank wall. A few feet in some dream moments. A few inches in others. A few yards in yet others. Time, like space, out of whack, dream-Delmont spent either a few seconds or a few hours talking towards the planter and then suddenly...

Delmont was awake. Because the strange thing that was obvious to everyone. There was indeed a planter box on the side of the Rambler and it was full of blooming Azaleas. Only, by this time in the summer all those pink blooms should have fallen off. Either that is some special breed that puts flowers out more often or holds them longer, or the plants in that box are fake. And if they are fake, why have a fake flower box that close to a building while plenty of other flowering trees can last for longer? The phrase that hit Delmont's mind was "architectural camouflage". Something he found about last year while wandering around Mobile, where some houses and storefronts are actually just fake fronts meant to hide gas meters and and substations. 

What would such a hotel be hiding out? 

The next morning, fairly early, Delmont head over to the Rambler and made his way to that flower bed and sure enough found exactly what he suspected. A box full of artificial dirt and fake plants. Pushing against it, it seemed to move slightly. The stone was also lighter than expected. He started to look to see if there was some sort of button or release, some explanation as to why the camera above this planter might a) exist and b) be the target of a somewhat sophisticated disruption device... but came up empty. He could find no particular way to get inside. [1]

"I wonder what..."

"You wonder what, son?" A heavy hand clamped on Delmont's shoulder and he felt himself turned around and looked up right into the face of Chief Raylon. "You wondered if you could test my patience? You wondered if I was full of empty threats?" 

"No, wait...I was..."

"What you was, son, is you was about to go to jail. I had a sense you would test me sooner than later so I told my boys I was going to be the one to take the early morning watch and boy am I glad I did. Let's go." 

Delmont realized it was best to stay quiet, not knowing if Raylon was in on whatever the secret the planter might hold, not knowing if it was safe to let Raylon know about it, and so merely hung his head as apologetically as he could muster and tried not to protest too loudly when the Chief went so far as to use actual handcuffs. A smirk right on the Chief's face.

Hitomi

<< That first day and a half over Ralph Harley's electronics shop was the kind of dream you have to be there to appreciate. I spent my life generally around people. Family. Mom's students. Dad's parishioners. Both with visitants and friends and colleagues. I am sure I had patches of time to myself but here I was able to sit around, smoke, read books, take Libby the Lab for walks. I cooked my own food in a little kitchenette. I bought my own groceries. I read through a small stack of Daphne's books that I brought along with me. Ghosthearts. Cheesy young adult writing about a girl from the 1950s who dies in a car crash haunting her school - Spookville High - and eventually falling in love with a basketball star. The two go on to solve crimes and help his classmates before, in volume 49, he has to go off to college and she is unable to leave the school. Believe it not, the story ended there. The author, "Georgia McNair," never returned to it. She was probably a pen name for a group of authors. The only real rumors I can find online about it in the last thirty years is that they were shopping it out to be a TV series but it was apparently the only X-Files/Buffy rip-off to not get made. 

<< Anyhow, minor gripe about never seeing if Celia and Chuck ever found a way to be happy - I guess the only solution would be for him to die, eventually - I was living in a very short but very happy state of grace. I start having the dumbest fantasies. Imagining myself getting a job here in Maidenstead. Picturing hanging out on the beach in the early morning. Running a coffee shop, maybe. I realized just how much I had basically been tagging after other people my whole life and now I just wanted to be a nobody. 

<< The only gripe I had was that I kept expecting Eu to show up. It seemed rude for a man to rescue a woman's dog and then not try cashing in with a little flirting. I had no idea that he was currently in jail and then later teaming up with his nerd friends to play at heists. I was just on the edge of a crush and while it seems stupid to say, sometimes a bit of solitude is best with the right person, you know? 

<< Day two, I realized my finances were a bit askew. I was not broke in the technical sense. I had a lot of money in the bank (thanks, Dad!). I just did not have a lot of cash because I was supposed to be a hanger-on with Daphne and Frank. I left Libby with some snacks and headed down to Maidenstead First to make a withdrawal (I did not fancy tying up Libby up outside). Good I did, and a strong reminder about why it might not be a great idea, at least not then, to reside in Maidenstead. Isaac Gibbs was there. The Evil Dog Catcher himself. Staring at a wall where local businesses post flyers. I had no idea if he would remember me, or Libby, but I still managed to make myself scarce on the other side of a large marble table where people would fill out withdrawal slips. After he had finished and left, I scooted over to look at the board and glancing at the flyers made me think about something that maybe I could do to help Eu. 

<< I approached the counter and turned in my slip to get some cash, trying to do a pounds to dollar type conversion in my head. 

<< "I LOVE your accent!" said the chubby red-head behind the counter. "Just like Are You Being Served?" Her name tag read Morgan. [2] Not knowing much about British television - my mom was in the general "I don't even own a TV" crowd - or anything about Alabama Public Television's penchant for broadcasting it, I merely smiled and nodded and gave a big, "Thank you! I am here visiting and loving your town. It is amazing!"  It occurred to me that if I was going to help untangle the many threads that Daphne, Frank, and Vern (not to mention Eu) were getting caught up in, maybe I could make some local acquaintances instead of treating this spot at some strange stop on the way to someone else. So I got to chatting and actually found myself making a friend. [3]

<< I told her my dad was thinking about renting out a place to have a big televised church gathering with lots of big guests. And that the Rambler might be perfect for it. Only he was nervous because some guys at his club had mentioned hearing the place was haunted. It would be big and helpful if someone could help me find some records about the place like foorplans - "Planning big events requires lots of maths!" I said in my most generic London accent - or any history that might explain some things. The history bit, she recommended the library. Talk to Ms. Zable. She was prone to knowing the history of every crack in the sidewalk, Morgan said. 

<< As for the blueprints, "You want to talk to Patrick Yost. Stupid boy who thinks he's better than us. Sorry, shouldn't talk bad of folks." She went on to say that Patrick is down in some place called H & L Smith's in Gulf Shores. Handle a lot of real estate transactions when some big money is involved. Somewhere between insurance and evaluator. She wasn't really sure what to do to get through to him. Apparently every time she talked to him he would glance at her and smirk. 

<< I asked Morgan if she wanted to hang out sometime and mentioned Ralph Harley's. She giggled and it was a date. I asked her what she liked to drink and she said she doesn't but she liked card games and soda so I figured why not. My treat.

<< It wasn't until I had swung by the IGA later and was picking up some snacks (and a few decks of various card games) that my brain suddenly flashed back to the poster on the bulletin board that Isaac Gibbs had been looking at. It was for a national dog show that was going to be hosted in Orange Beach. >>

MECHANICAL NOTES

1. 7 of Spades. A scene involving conflict. Jack of Spades: advance the plot about the Dog Catcher and Chief, negatively. Then 6 of Spades [man], a standard Brainy challenge. Which Eustace failed. 
2. [Generated by a mixture of Table Fables: Modern, Random Realities, and just stuff that sounded good] Morgan Carter. Bank Teller. Aged 19. Adaptable but Insecure. Gets a bit squeamish around blood and insects. She is earning money because she wants to go off to "Health School" and learn yoga, natural healing, and body positive exercise. Her dream is to be a life-affirming health coach. She is a bit young and not sure exactly what these words mean, mostly learning these concepts from mid-afternoon TV on her days off and little pocket books she buys in the grocery lines. 
3. 8 of Diamonds. A Scene Involving a Transaction. Ace of Clubs (4 ==> New Location, from the image icon: vault + credit card...so, a bank). 9 of Hearts. A standard charming challenge. Needing a bit of an idea about what sort of task Hitomi might have in a bank (besides the obvious), I went to Random Realities and got "Eliminate Legend". While that seems a bit nonsense, I think it might tie into the duality of The Rambler's Inn: a place with lots of urban legends and mysteries but clearly a functional business. Hitomi gets a single success.
4. Does the bank keep any blueprints? 5 of Spades ==> No, but.. they could have access to them. A loan. They need to know the details because the Rambler is having to borrow money. Does Morgan have any relationship to the person who does have the blue prints? 7 of Diamonds ==> No. Who does have the blueprints? Image Icon 2,5 (Flashlight) + 1,4 (Coffee). The imagine this brings to mind is a surveyor/investigator type who stays a bit highwired and anxious. Using the tools above (see #2) we get Patrick Yost. Aged 25. Proper but misguided [what is he misguided on? Using the "Subject of Interest Table" from Tricubes Solo I get "Weather/Climate". Let's go with in general that he's a conspiracy person. Thinks the government/"they" are controlling the weather. Dresses nice. Ultimate drive: faith and tradition. Has a very shrill laugh. Works for a regional real estate evaluation company. H&L Smith's. He's the junior agent in the Gulf Shores branch that sees all the "outside Mobile" Gulf Coast Alabama area. What is his weakness? Image icon, 1.4 (Coffee, makes sense) + 3,5 (Magic Hat). We'll say fine food and clothing. He got schooling in Chicago and considers the area to be a bit beneath him. Does Morgan know this? 6 of Hearts, No, and... she doesn't really like him. He's kind of the opposite of her. 

== DOUG'S NOTES == 

This post (which is roughly 1/3 it's predicted length initially) has been sitting stalled out for a full month now (last edit before this one was September 28). There are reasons and some of it was the generalized burnout that I hint towards in the latest Fourth Wall Break. Not exactly this series' fault since The Alabama Weird is meant to be about the slightly more elaborate creative writing process, it just made the blog as a whole feel a bit too much like work. Something I have been fixing. Another reason is in that post, though, in that the Delmont posts tended to rely more on AI art [1-2 pieces per post] than the rest and it was irking me. There was specifically a OG version of this particular (now half) chapter where the azalea plant was an illustration and that was 90% the straw that broke the AI-use-on-this-blog's back. It just didn't fit, screwed up the flow, and caused me to get frustrated with continuing. The Ghosthearts cover, though, is one of my favorite pieces of AI art I have used and it will remain. A final tribute to a thing I tried and decided I did not really like.

Overall though I just needed a moment to think about how to continue some things. Eustace Delmont is big. There is a growing series of characters. A growing series of plot lines. There are growing in jokes. Growing predictions. It needs a framework to handle this and the slightly souped up Tricube Solo version I was using was already beginning to drown once we were moving into secondary and tertiary branches of three plot lines (that are now more like four or five, with more and more moving parts). This is no complaint about Tricube Solo. It is amazing system. It just didn't quite match the kind of flowchart bursting hellscape this story is shaping up to be. Especially when you factor in the length (and getting longer) nature of the posts and the stylistic choices being made in the writing. 

Deep down, I love Eustace and Hitomi, though. I love the quirks of both of them. The Southern Gulf Coast "noir." The 90s nostalgia. It pushes my limits with both romance and with mystery development in a solo format. I just need it to be a bit free-er. Some posts being a couple of scenes, some being longer, some going off on other tangents. 

In that light, I am breaking this "chapter" here so I can do a few things. I will swap it to Mythic. I might work in Adventure Crafter shortly but I'll let it cook a page or two first. I am going to keep some of the style choices between Eustace's and Hitomi's voices, but drop a few of the trickier bits (such as the "next time" which was me randomly typing a few predictions I then had to shoe-horn in). 

Like my two other currently re-launched series, I will then be able to slot it into a particular release date (Tuesdays @ 5pm in my local time zone) and get it back underway.