Enter…The Ghoul Squad–Part VIa: Sol

[This is Sol's report. His writing style is a bit stilted, but it serves its purpose.]

Persephone & I were assigned to interview Humberto Quackenbush, security guard regarding his activities on the night Harriet was shot. Before we left, I used a pay phone at the police station to call my friend Kevin Blake who works in Human Resources at the university for any further information. Kevin knows all the dirt on the faculty and staff. And it appears that Humberto Quackenbush has been both.

It seems that Dr. Quackenbush had been a professor of political science who had been denied tenure for undisclosed reasons. The university gossip was that he had become mentally unstable and had begun drinking heavily. He took a position as a security guard and places ads in magazines advertising himself as a soldier of fortune.

I also asked about the enigmatic ‘Radish’. Kevin told me that none of the university’s current security guards were under the age of 31, so this Chonggak* must have been an imposter.

I then called my friend Mick for advice on interviewing witnesses. I then got directions to Dr. Quackenbush’s apartment. I then called Junie for the hockey scores. Not good. I then found Persephone waiting petulantly in the lobby.

We got on my motorcycle and drove to the subject’s building. Persephone held on to me tighter than strictly necesarry, but perhaps she had never ridden on a motorcycle before. I found a parking space and after a rough estimate of the anticipated duration of our interview, decided to deposit 65 cents. I set my wristwatch alarm to go off if we exceeded our time limit.

We entered the elevator and were greeted by an older man who identified himself as Edmund Bedford and a young Japanese woman who is now a good friend of Pepper’s. I will not include her name in this report as it will be available on the internet. I do not wish for her to receive any unwanted attention from the kind of people who frequent P.’s blog. (No offense). They were both in elevator operator uniforms. I found this unusual.

“I hope you don’t mind,” the Mr. Bedford began “but I’m training a new employee today. Would it be all right if Y. served as your elevator operator today? I can assure you she’s been through all of the required classes. She has an internship at the 株式会社そごう department store coming up this summer. And I will be present at all times. But if you’re not comfortable with that arrangement, I would be happy to transport you myself.”

I said “Yurakucho de Aimasho!” to Y., exhausting my knowledge of Japanese and I agreed to Mr. Bedford’s plan of action. Persephone grunted. Her headphones were blasting ‘The Ghost in You’ by Siouxie and the Banshees. I requested the 12th floor.

Dr. Quackenbush greeted us wearing camoflage briefs and an open kimono. It was clear that he had been drinking. There were hundreds of bottles of Wax Manniquyn beer laying about, some open, some not. While I pride myself on my knowledge of (un-flavored) beers, I had never encountered this brand before. I called my friend Gary who had recently relocated to Canada to be with his girlfriends (now wife) Greta who he had met on a German heavy metal listserv. Gary, whose knowledge of beer surpasses my own, told me that he had just encountered Wax Manniquyn beer for the first time that week. It is brewed in a small town in Quebec by reclusive Vietnamese twins, themselves under the legal drinking age.

Since there was a lady present, I encouraged Dr. Quackebush to put on slacks. Once he returned wearing stained combat fatigues, Persephone finally spoke up an began the interview.

Persephone asked if he had met this ‘Radish’ before.

“No, no,” he replied, clearly drunk. “No, but it’s good to see some fresh blood. He has a lot to learn. He acted nervous when I was showing him my gun.” Dr. Quackenbush shot up and looked around the apartment. After searching under a pile of dirty clothing he found his gun underneath a sofa cushion. He was eager to show his weapon off. While I have a passing familiarity with rifles, I know next to nothing about handguns, but he was rather proud of his gun and Persephone expressed great interest. Whether this interest was genuine or feigned, I don’t know.

Persephone’s interest succeeded in loosening his tongue a little. The first to enter the room was a nervous looking Harriet, accompanied by Iliana. Dr. Quackenbush claims that both young ladies propositioned him, but he could not comply, as he was on duty. Then ‘Radish’ came in and Dr. Quackenbush took great pride in explaining the finer points of security to the young man. Persephone persisted asking if he had previously seen Radish, Harriet or Iliana. He said that he had not.

Then Persephone asked about Jan Betel. Although this was my first experience interviewing a witness, I’ve done so several more times since and I can truthfully say that Dr. Humberto Quackenbush is the worst liar I’ve ever met. He began sweating profusely and fidgeting. He knocked an open beer bottle on the floor, spilling its contents. He denied ever meeting Jan Betel before, but it was obvious to anyone that he was not only lying, but very nervous about it.

Persephone calmed him down by asking about his gun again. After a lengthy lecture from H.Q., as he insisted Persephone call him, she was able to bring the topic around to Serious’ arrival. He seemed suspicious of Serious, but could not, or would not elaborate. He seemed to think that his guilt was an open and shut case.

We bid Dr. Quackenbush farewell. As we were leaving, I had remembered Amy’s (Anenome’s) interest in the glowing glove. I asked H.Q. if he had ever noticed a glowing gloved hand with a revolver.

He again grew agitated and slammed the door in our faces. However, the door didn’t shut, but rather sprang back open so that we could see Quackenbush running toward the bedroom yelling ‘The ghoul!”** As we left the building, Persephone suddenly sidled up to me taking my arm.

“I’m sorry, Sol.” she said. “It must have rained. The pavement’s a little slippery and these shoes are no good. Help me to your motorcycle?” I did so and drove her to the Artful Mug before returning home.

* Korean for ‘young radish’ or an unmarried man.

** Or so I thought.