Chapter Text
[Messy scrawl on the Thinking Cloth]
Added to over the course of the day:—
Cancellations: IIII
[Messy scrawl in a fat, over-used spiral-bound notebook]
Written at George’s desk:—
12:00 - skull’s ectoplasm dislikes artificial UV light. Will compare with sunlight. Lucy had a bath with her clothes on. I hope Lockwood fires her
[Recorded on a Walkman]
In Lucy’s room:—
‘Hey, Norrie.
I wish you were here. Because I think I might be losing it.
I just found myself - well I guess technically it was George who found me, the one with zero social skills - fully clothed in the bath. I- I don’t even really know how I got there? One minute I was studying the ring, and the next George was telling me off for being in the bathroom for too long. No doubt this’ll add to the reasons he doesn’t like me. Not that I particularly like him, either.
But when I sat up in the bath, it was like I’d just woken from a dream. It felt like I was facing her, the ghost, Annabel Ward, and it was like she was trying to tell me something. She honestly reminded me of you, a little bit. I think she gave me a daisy. I took some daisies from the hospital when I left. I didn’t know why at the time, but I guess it was the part of me that connected with her telling me something. I know I need to figure out what happened to her. I need to help her, she wants me to help her. I can feel it.
I miss you, Norrie. I really miss you. I don’t know how I’m going to live here without you. Every moment I’m here feels like a betrayal, but I think you would’ve rathered I was here than staying back home.
I wish you’d come back to me.
Love,
Lucy’
[Elegant handwriting in a spiral-bound notebook]
Written on Lockwood’s bed:—
Andrew Lockwood? ANDREW LOCKWOOD?? It is utterly disgraceful the lack of tact these bloody journalists have. Andrew?! Couldn’t be bothered to get my name right, let alone ask for a statement. Finally front page news, and it had to be bad press. Now, on top of somehow finding £60,000 in the next two weeks, we have fewer clients than ever, and no one will take me seriously. If it’s not worth getting my name right, it’s obviously not worth hiring that agency!
George wants me to fire Lucy. He thinks she’s going mad. To be fair, she did burn the house down, but in her defence, it was an extreme circumstance. I suppose I am also somewhat to blame If we had had chains it wouldn’t have happened. It was a simple mistake, and a misleading job. That’s all. Lucy is far too valuable to the agency. She thinks quick on her feet, has the necessary skills, and possesses strong talent. It would be a mistake to fire her. George will realise that soon.
The next morning:—
Well. That was an eventful night.
First, Lucy bursts into my room while I’m sleeping, all bed hair and frantic, saying the Annabel Ward’s ghost was just in her room. Honestly, my first thought was that George is right, and she is mad. But, I gave her the benefit of the doubt, and went to investigate. Turns out, she is mad, but she’s not a liar. Annabel was there, and she was angry. Fortunately, we work well as a team, and together we eliminated her and found the ring.
Then, Lucy decided that she wanted to investigate further. We finally had the source (the source she’d stolen) contained, and she wanted to unleash the beast again? She seems to think that she has some psychic connection with the ghost, which is utter nonsense. Ghosts don’t have feelings, they’re non-autonomous manifestations of a person’s final moments, out for revenge. And they try to take whoever is closest down with them. They’re ghastly monsters who deserve to be destroyed. Every single one of them.
Unfortunately, Lucy managed to get George to back her up. George! Maybe they’re more alike that George would like to admit.
Anyway, I was outnumbered, so somehow I found myself setting up a ridiculous experiment in the lounge. I still cannot believe how reckless they were being, but I’ll admit, I was a little curious. And Lucy is so…I don’t even know. Beau She’s so something when she’s fired up. Whatever it was, it was hard to resist.
I can’t stop thinking about what happened next. I gave her the ring. Our fingers brushed. It seems so insignificant when I write it down. But I swear, it felt almost like an electric shock. It wasn’t like it was the first time I’d touched her. During the whole fiasco at the Hope’s, it was hard not to accidentally touch each other. She was soft and warm, but It didn’t feel like that small touch did. Maybe I just haven’t been touched that gently in too long.
I tried to ignore it, though, to observe what happened next. Her talent really is very impressive. I’m glad I trusted my instincts with her. My instincts are never wrong. She was entrancing as she described Annabel’s last moments. She smiled as she spoke, as if she was there, experiencing Annabel’s happiness. I couldn’t look away
Things started to get creepy when she stood up, like she was possessed. George must’ve loved it. When she opened her eyes, she stared straight into mine, but it was like she couldn’t really see me. Then she started to become Annabel. She smiled up at me, laughing lightly. It made my heart Then she touched my face. If I was taken aback by brushing her fingers, her touching my face…I can still feel it
”He loves me.”
”You love me, don’t you.”
Is it bad that I wanted her to keep touching me?
When she started talking about being hurt, I was so overwhelmed making sure Lucy didn’t hurt herself, and told George to do something.
George quickly opened the curtains (luckily the sun had risen), and Annabel disappeared, with a furious lob of the chair Lucy had been sitting on. I only just managed to get Lucy and I out of harm’s way. But we all were fine.
Turns out, Annabel’s lover - whoever he was - choked her to death. I suppose there must be some validity to her claim about the psychic connection.
Originally, I refused to allow any further investigations. Lucy had put herself in enough danger, George got the results of the experiment, end of story. But when you have to pay £60,000 in two weeks, solving the murder and mystery of a famous missing woman might just be exactly what we have to do.
And Barnes also wants me to fire Lucy. Screw him and George. Lucy stays.
[Messy scrawl in the fat, over-used spiral-bound notebook]
Written in the lounge room as Lucy tests her psychic connection:—
An exact record what Lucy’s connection with Annabel:
“It’s ok Annabel. It’s safe.
There’s a song playing in the room. She loves it. It’s their song.” [note: presumably Annabel and her lover]
“She’s so happy. She loves him. She’s dancing to the song. He’s watching her.”
[note: Lucy is standing now]
“He wants her, but it’s just…” [unfinished sentence]
Lockwood: “what is it?”
“He’s angry. Jealous. She’s afraid. Again.”
[lucy seems to become Annabel]
Lucy (as Annabel):
“Yes.”
[she touches Lockwood’s face]
“It’s alright. He loves me. You love me, don’t you?”
[she clings to Lockwood]
“You gave me the ring. He’d never hurt me. He’d never.
Look at me. Look at me. Look. No. Stop.”
[she grapples with Lockwood]
“Stop please. Ow! You’re hurting me! Don’t. No, don’t. Look at me. Look at me. Look! Stop, please! Let me go!”
[she claws at her neck and gasps for air]
“I can’t! Let me breathe! Let go of me! Let go of me!”
[george opens the curtains and the chair gets thrown across the room, setting off the weapons]
Lucy (back to normal):
“He choked her to death.”
[Recorded on a Walkman]
In Lucy’s room:—
‘Hey, Norrie,
I’m recording this while I’m getting ready to go to the Archives with Lockwood and George, so this’ll be brief.
Last night was insane. It turns out the ring I took from Annabel’s body was actually her source. She materialised in my room while I was sleeping. I woke up with her hovering right over me. It was terrifying. Luckily, I escaped her and George, Lockwood, and me managed to contain her.
No wonder the ring had strong psychic residue. I managed to convince George and Lockwood to let me connect with her again, in a controlled environment. I let myself open up to her, and it was the weirdest feeling, Norrie, but I don’t have time to go into details. I felt her last moments, her dancing for her lover, having such a fun time, until her lover, whoever he was, got angry all of a sudden. She begged and pleaded with him, but he was so angry he strangled her. Even though it didn’t happen to me, I can still feel the phantom hands squeezing my throat, sealing off my lungs…
Sorry, I shouldn’t go into those kinds of details. You don’t want to hear that. My point is, now we know she was choked to death by her lover. That’s a step in the right direction, right?
I thought I’d have to argue with Lockwood a lot more than I did to get him to agree to solve her murder. He resisted a bit, but pretty quickly decided that it would be beneficial to look into it. I think he cares more about the publicity than the actual murder, though. But I’ll take what I can get.
I miss you. You would love investigating this, I know you would. I’ll make sure I record everything for you.
Love,
Lucy’