produced/written by G. Matthew Smith



EPISODE #119 (Tuesday, 5/21/02) click here for a printable version of this episode
Same Day
March, 1936 - Afternoon


CALLISON PUBLICATIONS - DOUGLAS'S OFFICE

Douglas DavisThe Offices of Callison Publications & the Daily Post"Myrtle, I thought that I asked you not to disturb me," Douglas Davis said as he pressed down on the intercom button.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Davis," Myrtle replied, "but you have a phone call.  It's Miss Jillian Stokes.  She said it was urgent."

"I'm sorry, detective," Douglas sighed as he picked up the telephone receiver and pressed it to his ear.  "Jillian, it's Douglas, what's wrong?"  His eyes grew wide with shock and concern.  "Are you...sure?  I...um...yes.  I'll...be right there."

"Mr. Davis, is there a problem?" Jim Fitzpatrick asked with concern.

"I'm sorry, detective, but I really have to leave," Douglas quickly explained as he bolted from his chair and grabbed his coat.  "It's my wife."

"I...hope everything's okay."

"Oh, everything's fine," Douglas smiled broadly.  "She's having a baby!"


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ALBANYVILLE GENERAL HOSPITAL - EMERGENCY ROOM - LATER

Albanyville General Hospital"Excuse me, nurse," Douglas said franticly as he hurried up to the desk.  "I'm looking for my wife.  I was told that she was brought in.  Her name's Mrs. Douglas Davis and she's..."

"Douglas!" Jillian Stokes called out as she rushed over to him, tightly gripping Reginald Callison's hand and dragging him along behind her.  "It's about time you got here."

"You wouldn't believe the traffic," Douglas sighed and reached up to loosen his tie.  "Where's Lorraine?  Is she all right?  Nothing's wrong with the baby, is there?"

Jillian Stokes"She's fine," Jillian laughed.  "She's just having a baby.  Women have been doing it for centuries."

"Well, Lorraine hasn't been doing it for centuries," Douglas retorted as he glanced down at his watch.  "And, besides, you know that she's had some problems with this baby."

"Douglas, she's going to be fine," Reginald assured and reached out to grab Douglas' arm supportively.  "The doctor is with her right now."

"Dr. Jackson?"  Douglas looked at both of them in surprise.  "He actually beat me here?"

"No, not Dr. Jackson.  It's Dr. Hardy."  Jillian took Douglas by the hand and slowly led him down the hallway towards the waiting room.  "I'm sure that she's in good hands."

"But I don't want Dr. Hardy to deliver this baby!" Douglas replied flatly.  "I want Dr. Jackson.  More importantly, Lorraine wants Dr. Jackson.  He saved both of their lives and he's the only doctor I want delivering this baby."  He again looked at his watch.  "I called him before I left the office.  He should be here."

Reginald Callison"Douglas, do you mean Dr. Calvin Jackson?" Reginald asked as he furrowed his brow.  "The son of my grandmother's housekeeper?"

"Yes, that's him.  Remember, I told you about when Lorraine collapsed on the docks.  He saved her life."

"I...don't think that having Calvin here is going to be a good idea," Reginald cautioned carefully.  "I mean...well...I'm sure that you understand the situation and I don't think that..."

Douglas Davis"I don't dive a damn about some stupid 'situation' as you want to call it," Douglas grumbled.  "He's a damn fine doctor and he's the only one I trust with my wife."

Dr. Calvin Jackson"Mr. Davis!" Calvin called out as he raced into the waiting room.  "I got here as soon as I could, but...well...I had some problems getting in."

"Well, that doesn't matter, now."  Douglas reached out and shook Calvin's hand.  "You're here and Lorraine needs you."

"Calvin, she's right through those doors and down the hallway on the left," Jillian motioned.

"Not so fast," Dr. Talbot Campbell spoke up as he came through the doors and threw up his hands to stop Calvin from entering.  "I can't let you go in there."

"What?" Douglas gasped incredulously.  "Dr. Campbell, what do you mean?  He's my wife's doctor.  He needs to be in there with her when the baby's born!"

Dr. Talbot Campbell"Mr. Davis, I understand what you're trying to say," Talbot sighed and nodded.  "This is an extremely awkward situation, but you have to understand my position.  I have to think about the rest of my staff and this hospital's other patients."

"I was afraid of this," Calvin grumbled.  "This is exactly what happened when I tried to get in."

"Dr. Campbell, what are you trying to say?"  Douglas glanced from Talbot to Calvin and then back again.

"Mr. Davis, I'm sorry, but things being what they are," he paused and took a deep breath, "I can't let this man in to see your wife.  I cannot allow him to practice medicine in this hospital."


THE GRAND SUNSET ROOM - LOUNGE TERRACE

The Grand Sunset Room"Um, Mr. Monroe," Jasper St. John spoke up as he stood in the doorway of the terrace.  "I really...need to go back downstairs and take care of some things."

"Can I...just stay here a little while longer?" Patterson Monroe asked as he turned around to face him.  "Can I look around some more?  Maybe I can find something...anything...that the police might have missed."

"I...guess that it would be all right," Jasper replied.  "Just...take as long as you need.  Honestly, though, I really don't see what the point is.  Even if there were any kind of evidence out here about what happened to Mrs. Lake, I'm sure that the weather would have destroyed it by now."

"Maybe," Patterson muttered softly.  "Maybe not."

Jasper St. JohnOnce Jasper had left, Patterson carefully began looking over the terrace.  However, the only thing that he could really see were the large potted plants that lined the side railing.  There was absolutely no way that anyone could have gotten into the lounge through the terrace.  Unless...

What if Stephen Lake had been in the room before Annabelle had arrived?  Could he have come in and then hidden out on the terrace and waited to make his move?

Patterson shook his head and immediately dismissed that notion.  That didn't make logical sense, either.  After all, how could Stephanie's father have known that Annabelle would go into the lounge?  Besides that, since there was a witness who never saw anyone else go into or come out of the lounge between the time that Francis Callison left and Reginald went in, how could Stephen Lake have gotten onto the other terrace and into the main ballroom where Sara had seen him?  No, none of it made any sense.

"Mr. Monroe?" Detective Jim Fitzpatrick spoke up as he stood in the doorway.  "Can I ask you what you're doing here?"

"Just trying to figure out how Albanyville's finest missed such an important piece of evidence like this terrace," Patterson shot back.  "Tell me, detective, did your department even bother to consider that there might have been another way into that room other than through the doors to the ballroom?"

"Well, considering that Mr. St. John didn't bother mentioning this terrace's existence," Jim retorted, "I'm not sure how we could have known about it."

"You are the police.  Isn't it your job to investigate things?"

Jim hesitated for a moment, resisting the urge to fire off a defensive reply, but then calmly spoke again.  "So, exactly what are you doing here, Mr. Monroe?  How did you find out about this terrace?"

Patterson Monroe"I simply asked Mr. St. John.  If you'd done the same, maybe you would have known about it, too."

"Well, I know about it, now!"  Jim paused and took a deep breath.  "Not that it really matters.  I already told you that the investigation into Mrs. Lake's murder is closed."

"I'm not here because of the murder," Patterson explained.  "I'm here trying to find a connection between Stephanie's disappearance and her father.  Apparently, the police aren't going to do anything to help her."

"Why don't you leave the detective work to us?  There's no proof that Miss Lake has been kidnapped.  Even if she has been and her father is involved, it could be a dangerous matter.  You shouldn't get involved!"  Jim took another deep breath.  "Now why don't you just go home and let us do our job?"

Patterson eyed the detective carefully as he tried to keep his rising temper in check.  "So, why are you here, detective, if your investigation into Annabelle's murder is closed?"

"Just routine follow up," Jim explained.  "When I came into the lounge, I saw the drapes pulled open and the door leading out here.  I just wanted to check things out.  Curiosity, more than anything else.  That's all.  Go home, Mr. Monroe."

With a shake of his head, Patterson realized that he wouldn't be getting anywhere with the stubborn detective anytime soon.  Finally, with resignation, he nodded.  "Okay.  If that's a direct order."

"It is."

Without saying another word, Patterson shoved his hands down into his pockets and walked back into the lounge and headed for the door.  However, in spite of his seeming compliance with the detective's demands, Patterson was more determined than ever to get to the bottom of things.  He was certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that Stephanie had been kidnapped by her father and was in serious trouble.  If he couldn't count on the police to do anything to help her, he'd have to do it himself.  However, it was now quite apparent that he'd have to keep his search secret.  He couldn't let the police's "good" intentions destroy any chance he might have of ever saving Stephanie.

Once Jim had heard the main doors of the lounge close, he let out a deep sigh of relief.  Although he hadn't lied to Patterson---the investigation into Annabelle Lake's murder was indeed still closed---he still had his own personal suspicions that needed to be satisfied and those suspicions were even greater than before after learning the contents of Annabelle Lake's letter.

Jim FitzpatrickAs he stood on the terrace, Jim reached into his jacket's inside left-breast pocket and pulled out a folded-up stack of papers.  Thank god he'd managed to dig the original plans for the hotel out of the public records down at the courthouse---plans that clearly showed the terrace outside the lounge.  Now holding a complete blueprint of The Grand Sunset Room and the adjoining lounge, he was determined to find a connection that might connect Sara Manchester's sighting of Stephen Lake on the terrace of The Grand Sunset Room and his possible means of access to the lounge at the time his wife was murdered.

Eyeing the plans carefully, Jim immediately saw that, although not connected as he'd hoped, the terraces for the lounge and the main ballroom both ran along the same side of the hotel.  Glancing up from the plans, he furrowed his brow as he thought.  Was there a way for a person to move from one terrace to the other?  Was the gap between the two terraces small enough to permit easy access?

With determination, Jim walked over to the row of large potted plants.  The plants were clearly there to provide a sense of privacy for the terrace.  In fact, they completely hid the other terrace from view.  As he attempted to push the pots aside, he realized that they were much heavier than they looked.  In fact, considering what floor they were on, they were probably weighted down to provide stability against any strong winds.

After realizing that there was no moving the pots, Jim carefully attempted to climb over them and through the plants.  He reached out his hand in order to find the railing of the terrace so that he could judge his distance and, using his other hand to move the plants' leaves and branches out of his way, pushed his way through.  To his surprise, he realized that there was, in fact, a slight gap between the plants and the railing.  Of course, there wasn't a great deal of room, but there was room for a person to stand.  What was even more surprising was the revelation of the true distance between the two terraces---only a few feet apart.

Considering the relative short distance, could Stephen Lake have gotten onto the lounge's terrace from the one outside the main ballroom and, therefore, access to the lounge?  Jim peered over the edge of the railing and noted how high up he was and took a deep breath.  There was only one way to find out---he had to try it for himself.

After climbing up onto the terrace's railing, he again looked down at the ground, over 75 stories below, and took another deep breath before praying that the old adage wasn't necessarily true---maybe curiosity wouldn't kill the cat.  He took another deep breath, brushed his concerns out of his head, eyed his target...and jumped.

To his relief, he cleared the distance with no trouble at all.  Turning to look back at the terrace outside the lounge, he knew that someone could have used it to gain access to the lounge.  That being the case, someone could have gotten in without being seen and used the opportunity to kill Mrs. Lake and then slip back out without being noticed.  With a smile of victory, Jim was certain that that person was, more than likely, Stephen Lake.