Chapter Text
Herbert West sighed as he followed Daniel Cain past the tents and stalls stuffed full of dusty old furniture and ancient oddities. They had lived in their mortuary’s house for over a year now, and Dan had declared they were going refurnish it, and the local outdoor antique marketplace was, in his mind, the perfect place to find items that matched the house’s aesthetic. Herbert was dragged along to provide an extra pair of hands in Dan’s hunt. Herbert frowned at the noise and clustered nature of his surroundings, but he couldn’t help but pause a few moments when he passed a stall with antique medical devices on display.
The marketplace was a special event in the first weekend of October. Operating very similar to a farmer’s market, dealers and enthusiasts from all over Massachusetts and New England in general came down to sell their items or to add to their own collections. Visitors weaved around the dealers, and among them were the two doctors. They came to a stop at a dealer selling books and bookshelves to look over their wares.
“See anything?”
Herbert glanced up from idly scanning his eyes over the titles of the books. Dan was looking at him with a few books in hand.
“Did you see anything?” Dan repeated his question.
“I see lots of things,” Herbert answered bluntly, looking back down as Dan rolled his eyes.
“You know what I mean. Did you see anything that you want?”
Herbert thought back to those tools he saw earlier. They were in quite good condition, but they were a bit outside his price range (which was pretty low to begin with) and he couldn’t think of when he would ever need use of them aside from decoration. He shook his head decisively, pulling out a book and flipping through the pages without bothering to read them.
“Ah, well, I shouldn’t be surprised,” Dan remarked as he went to pay for the books he held. Herbert looked back up to watch him, tilting his head curiously. Did Dan want Herbert to say that he wanted something? Does he expect him to have the money? Would he offer to buy then for Herbert? Herbert frowned at the notion of Dan buying him trinkets like he was some twittering lady that Dan wanted to impress. He snapped the book shut and placed it back where it was, seeing Dan return to him out of the corner of his eye.
“Let’s keep going,” Dan stepped to Herbert’s side “The woman over there mentioned a stall selling Tiffany lamps.”
“Oh? Is the one you have getting lonely?”
Dan frowned at the cold remark. In fact, he did have one, and Herbert knew full well what it meant to him. It was a housewarming present Meg had given Dan when he moved into his home in Darkmore Avenue. Herbert poked fun of Dan’s fondness for it, like he was now, and he always received the same response. Dan simply shook his head with silent irritation and moved to continue on down the line of stalls. Herbert paused to watch Dan turn away before picking up his pace to follow.
FREE SUITCASE! TALK TO MR. BANKS IF INTERESTED IN A FREE SUITCASE!
Dan and Herbert slowed their pace when their attentions were grabbed by the line of people, mostly confident young men, stemming out from one canvas tent full of old wooden furniture. A brightly-colored sign was posted just outside the entrance that Herbert in Dan approached.
“Free Suitcase?” Dan read the sign curiously “That can’t be why all these guys are standing outside.”
Herbert scanned the crowd. Everyone, both men and women, looked sturdy and fit, and all had a confident determined look in their eyes, like someone about to take part in a contest. Movement caught his eye, and Herbert looked over to see Dan approach the line.
“Hey, what’s going on over here?” Dan asked the closest person, a young brunette woman “Are you all here for the suitcase?”
“Yeah! Apparently, it’s this huge trunk with an old rusted padlock. If you can get the lock open, you can have the suitcase and everything in it for free.”
“Really?” Dan raised an eyebrow “Does the stall owner know what’s in it? If there’s anything in it at all.”
“That’s the fun of it, I guess!” the woman cheerfully shrugged.
Herbert stopped paying attention to the conversation at that point, and instead looked towards the stall. A few wooden chairs and a bureau obscured any chance of him getting a good look at the prized suitcase. He walked down by the line, ducking into the stall on his own volition and leaving his companion behind.
The space underneath the tent was cramped, but not from the vendor’s wares, but rather the people that stood around something in the center. Herbert didn’t have to guess to know that the something was the trunk everyone was obsessed over. A stout man stood above them on a stool, regulating the crowd in front of him and shouting encouragements. Herbert carefully stepped around the furniture and people, slowly making his way towards the man. He managed to reach him, wrinkling his nose at the scent of cheap cologne that wafted off of the man before looking over at the trunk in question.
It was quite tall, at least a yard in height and about two feet in width. Half-a-dozen faded travel stickers were slapped on the dark leather. Herbert looked over them, making out a most of the stickers: Egypt, France, Germany, Geneva, America… Some gold letters were stamped on the side of the trunk, and Herbert narrowed his eyes as he got a better look.
“A. Toulon”
Herbert let out a soft gasp of surprise and quickly looked up at the man next to him.
“Are you Mr. Banks?”
“Hm? Yes?” the man addressed him, his attention still focused on those attempting to open the case.
“That suitcase. Where did you get it?”
“Bought it at an estate sale in California. Why?”
Herbert’s frown deepened, and he shoved his hands in his coat pockets, “Let me try opening it.”
That got the man’s attention, “What?”
“You heard me. Let me open it.”
“Get in line like everyone else.”
“It will only take a minute or two,” Herbert looked at him with a deadly serious expression.
The man turned to look up and down Herbert, appraising his scrawny frame and short stature, quite the opposite to many of the other men who were trying their luck. Ultimately, the man gave a noncommittal shrug and got off his stool.
“Eh, what the hell, I’ll give you a shot,” He waved at the crowd to give Herbert some room. Herbert nodded in acknowledgement and stepped around to the front of the case to examine it. Two clasps were located near the top and bottom of the trunk, but they looked relatively clean and easy to pop open. The rusted padlock holding the main middle clasp closed, however, seemed to be the real trouble. It was ancient, appearing to be at least a few decades old but still looking sturdy. Herbert glanced back at the men and women around him, concluding that they were all trying their strength to forcing the lock open. A smug smirk spread on his face. The lock may be rusted, but it wasn’t that rusted. He pulled his hands out of his pockets, withdrawing a vial of clear liquid. He uncorked it and poured it into the mechanism that held the lock in place.
“H-Hey!” One of the men behind him protested “That’s not fair! He’s using some kind of acid!”
Herbert looked up to see Mr. Banks shuffling over to confirm the man’s accusation. Right on cue, the lock began hissing and smoking from the inside as the acid ate away at the metal innards. Banks looked at Herbert, then at the lock, and then at Herbert again. A smile spread over his lips and a booming laughter escaped from his throat.
“Well played!” Mr. Banks congratulated Herbert “Well played…”
“What the hell!? He shouldn’t be allowed to do that!” another man in the crowd protested.
“All I said was get that damned trunk open,” Mr. Back looked over at him “I didn’t say how it had to be opened!”
Herbert bit back another smug grin in response to the small chorus of disappointed groans around him. He looked back down at the lock and noticed that it stopped smoking. He re-pocketed the empty vial, reached over, placed his hand on the lock, and yanked down. The lock broke off the trunk with a soft, anticlimactic click.