#charlotte inwood

[marlenedietrichuneenfantdusiecle]

Stage fright

[be-kind-to-all-kind]

Places in New York City that don't look like they're in NYC (and aren't in Central Park*)

Forest Hills Gardens, Queens

This lovely NYC neighborhood was modeled after an English village back when it was first built in 1910, offering a little piece of the UK in Queens, with quaint Tudor-style houses and a town center with a train station. Read more about it here.

Where: 71st Ave, Forest Hills, NY

The Met Cloisters, Washington Heights

If you didn’t know about The Cloisters before, you might not ever believe that a medieval castle was in the middle of New York City. But it is! The Cloisters is a branch of The Metropolitan Museum of Art that is devoted to European art history. It was designed and constructed taking elements from many different medieval cloisters, which are covered pathways in a church or monastery that connect to form an open square in the center. Find out more here.

Where: 99 Margaret Corbin Drive

Hours: Thursday-Tuesday 10 a.m. – 5 p.m., Closed Wednesdays

Purchase tickets on their website here.

Villa Charlotte Bronte, The Bronx

Italy or the Bronx? The beautiful “Villa Charlotte Bronte” apartments look straight out of Europe. They were built in 1926 and sit along the Palisades, overlooking the Hudson River, in the Spuyten Duyvil neighborhood of The Bronx. The design was actually based on an Italian villa, which definitely makes sense, and includes balconies as well as lush gardens!

Where: 2501 Palisade Ave, The Bronx

Fort Tryon Park, Inwood

These massive stone arches looks straight out of another era…and that’s because they are! Built between 1901 and 1905, the “Billings Arcade” is some of the last remains of the Tryon Hall mansion, built by wealthy Chicago industrialist Cornelius K. G. Billings. John D. Rockefeller, Jr. purchased the $2 million estate in 1917, only for it to burn down a few years later. Read more about the history from the Fort Tryon Park Trust.

Makes sense that #2 on our list is right next door!

Where: Riverside Dr. To Broadway (arches are near down toward the Billings Lawn, this website has good detailed directions)

Hours: Open daily, 6 a.m. – 1 a.m.

Greenacre Park, Midtown

This hidden little park in Midtown East is only 1/7 of an acre, but it definitely packs a punch. It holds a 25-foot waterfall that is not only a sight for sore eyes in the middle of Manhattan, and will also distract from the noise of the busy streets. It was built in 1971 by the Greenacre Foundation from a design by Hideo Sasaki.

Where: 217 E 51st St.

Hours: Open daily, 8 a.m. – 6 p.m. *Reopens for the season Monday, April 3*

 Bonus: Here’s our list of other stunning secret gardens hidden in NYC 

Andrew Carnegie Mansion, Upper East Side

The Andrew Carnegie Mansion is a historical spot now home to the Cooper Hewitt Smithsonian Design Museum. The mansion was originally completed in 1902 and reached landmark status in 1974, though it has undergone much change over the years. The grounds of the mansion, and now museum, feature an expansive garden and cafe for visitors to enjoy as well as a little opulent oasis in the middle of Manhattan.

Where: 2 E. 91st Street

Hours: Thursday–Monday, 9 a.m. – 5 p.m.

Morgan Library, Murray Hill

The Morgan Library feels like a trip to a library from Harry Potter or old world Europe. The historical venue was built as a private library between 1902 and 1906 for financier Pierpont Morgan. He began collecting manuscripts and other historical materials as early as 1890, and now they line the walls of the museum. You can find some of the country’s rarest music manuscripts, early children’s books, Americana, early printed books and more there. Purchase tickets here.

Where: 225 Madison Ave

Hours: Varies, see website for more info

“Little Paris,” Nolita/SoHo

NYC’s own “Little Paris” is the work of one group of French business owners determined to showcase NYC’s own enclave of French culture on Centre Street in Nolita/SoHo (between Broome & Grand St.). Along Centre St. you can find French café and bakery Maman, wine bar La Compagnie des Vins Surnaturels, and art and home decor shop Clic. To complete the Parisian vibe is the old police headquarters located across the street from Coucou French Classes, whose architecture was inspired by Paris’s famous Hotel de Ville (City Hall) with its Beaux Arts style. Read more about it here.

Where: Centre Street between Broome & Grand St.https://www.tiktok.com/embed/v2/7107213381651795246

Van Cortlandt House, The Bronx

The Van Cortlandt House is the oldest surviving building in The Bronx, and was built by Frederick Van Cortlandt (1699 – 1749) in 1748. The Van Cortlandts were a prominent merchant family who owned a plantation on the property. ​Generations of the family lived there for 140 years, and in 1887 it was sold to the City of New York and made into public park land (Van Cortlandt Park itself it also the third largest park in NYC and has lots of unique hiking trails and vantage points!). Before it was a museum it had many random, unique uses like a temporary police precinct and a living space for ranch hands that cared for a herd of buffalo on the property.

Where: 6036 Broadway, Van Cortlandt Park

Hours: Varies, see website for more info

Stone Street, Financial District

Stone Street is one of the rare cobblestone streets in NYC, that gives more of an old school European feel to the starkly modern city buildings around it. According to Untapped Cities, the street was one of the first to be paved with cobblestones (in 1658) in the Nieuw Amsterdam colony, which is where it got its name. Today, no cars are allowed through and in the warm weather because of outdoor seating, it’s one of the few NYC locations where drinking is actually allowed in the streets.

Where: From Whitehall St. to Broad St., between Marketfield St. and Bridge St.

Hours: Open 24 hours

Ford Foundation Garden, Midtown

Tucked all the way at the end of 42nd Street (between 2nd Ave. and the United Nations Plaza), the Ford Foundation Center for Social Justice is a true hidden treasure of New York City. With sunlight streaming in on multiple sides, the 160-foot tall atrium holds 39 species of plants. There is also a reflecting pool, and a sensory garden with plant life you are encouraged to touch and smell. Read more here.

Where: 320 E. 43rd St.

Hours: Monday-Friday 8 a.m. – 6 p.m.https://www.instagram.com/reel/ChcXIbcAbpA/embed/?cr=1&v=14&wp=540&rd=https%3A%2F%2Fsecretnyc.co&rp=%2Fextraordinary-places-you-wont-believe-are-in-new-york-city%2F#%7B%22ci%22%3A0%2C%22os%22%3A4699.899999999907%2C%22ls%22%3A3474.899999999907%2C%22le%22%3A3748.600000000093%7D

Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge, Queens

If you’re looking to be surrounded by nature instead of the concrete jungle, the Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge is the place for you. On over 9,155 serene acres you can hike, go bird-watching, explore turtle nesting and admire the wide variety of wildflowers, moths and butterflies.

Where: Cross Bay Blvd near Broad Channel, Queens

Hours: Open daily, 6a.m. – 9p.m.

Brooklyn Botanic Garden, Prospect Heights

This lush oasis in the heart of Brooklyn will make you feel like you’ve been completely transported to another city. During the cherry blossom bloom in the spring, it will surely feel like a trip to Japan, but year-round it provides a natural haven for New Yorkers with varying blooms all over its very walkable grounds. Purchase tickets on their website here.

Where: 455 Flatbush Avenue, Brooklyn, NY 11225

Hours: Varies, see website for more info

But of course, Check out Central Park and the other parks, and I definitely don't just mean the parts where everyone goes!

[byneddiedingo]

Marlene Dietrich and Jane Wyman in Stage Fright (Alfred Hitchcock, 1950) Cast: Jane Wyman, Marlene Dietrich, Michael Wilding, Richard Todd, Alastair Sim, Sybil Thorndike, Kay Walsh, Miles Malleson, Hector MacGregor, Joyce Grenfell, André Morell, Patricia Hitchcock, Ballard Berkeley. Screenplay: Whitfield Cook, Alma Reville, based on a novel by Selwyn Jepson. Cinematography: Wilkie Cooper. Art direction: Terence Verity. Film editing: Edward B. Jarvis. Music: Leighton Lucas. The first stage of Marlene Dietrich's Hollywood career, when she was under the tutelage of Josef von Sternberg, ended with her being labeled "poison at the box office" by a disgruntled exhibitor in 1938, a label that helped push many of her contemporaries -- Greta Garbo, Norma Shearer, Luise Rainer -- into early retirement. Dietrich was made of sterner stuff, and after a celebrated turn entertaining American troops during World War II, she carved out a second film career by taking on character roles in films by major directors like Billy Wilder in A Foreign Affair (1948) and Witness for the Prosecution (1957), Fritz Lang in Rancho Notorious (1952), Orson Welles in Touch of Evil (1958), and Alfred Hitchcock in Stage Fright. Of these, the Hitchcock film is surprisingly the least memorable. It may be that Dietrich, who had learned everything she could about lighting and camera angles from Sternberg and cinematographers like Lee Garmes, was too much the diva for Hitchcock, who liked to be in control on his sets. But the fact remains that she is probably the most interesting thing about Stage Fright, a somewhat overcomplicated and sometimes scattered mystery in which we pretty much know whodunit from the beginning. Her appearances often come as a welcome relief from the rather tepid romantic triangle involving the characters played by Jane Wyman, Richard Todd, and Michael Wilding. Dietrich sings -- if that's the right word for what she does, being more diseuse than singer -- a few songs, including "La Vie en Rose" and Cole Porter's "The Laziest Gal in Town," and wears some Christian Dior gowns as Charlotte Inwood, the star of a musical revue in London, who bumps off her husband with the help of her lover, Jonathan Cooper (Todd), who is also the lover of a young student at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, Eve Gill (Wyman). But Eve also gets caught up in the murder plot when she falls for the detective investigating the case, Wilfred Smith (Wilding). Also providing relief from the romantic plot are Alastair Sim and Sybil Thorndike as Eve's separated and slightly eccentric parents, and some funny cameos by Miles Malleson and Joyce Grenfell. There are some clever Hitchcockian moments, including a flashback that turns out to be a complete misdirection and some skillful tracking shots by cinematographer Wilkie Cooper. But Wyman, the only American-born member of  the cast, feels out of her element, and Wilding turns his character into a moonstruck milksop. (Whatever did Elizabeth Taylor see in him?)

[thisobscuredesireforbeauty]

Marlene Dietrich as Charlotte Inwood in: Stage Fright  (Dir. Alfred Hitchcock, 1950).

[flwaniac]

[vintagewarhol]

[grande-caps]

Tidelands - Season 1 GALLERY LINK : [x] Quality: HD Screencaptures Amount: 6842 files Resolution : 1280x640px

-Please like/reblog if taking! -Please credit grande_caps/kissthemgoodbye!

[only-lastochka]

Like lead in my veins, Darkness is sinking...

[ellenedits]

fav or reblog if u like, save or use (c) ellenedits​.

[meluviel]

Edit about the new show Tidelands ✨

[marlenedietrichuneenfantdusiecle]

Marlene in Stage Fright.

[bluecollarfilm]

Tidelands (2018)

Tidelands follows Cal McTeer (Charlotte Best), a young woman who returns home to the small fishing village of Orphelin Bay after ten years in juvenile detention. But her hometown is shrouded in mysteries, the greatest of which is the commune of outcasts who live in a hidden pocket of the bay: the Tidelanders.

Starring:   Charlotte Best, Elsa Pataky, Mattias Inwood, Aaron Jakubenko, Madeleine Madden, Peter O'Brien, Dustin Clare, Marco Pigossi

Release date:   December 14, 2018

[brokehorrorfan]

Stage Fright will be released on Blu-ray on January 18 via Warner Archive. The 1950 British film noir murder-mystery is directed by Alfred Hitchcock (Psycho, Rear Window).

Whitfield Cook (Strangers on a Train) and Alma Reville (Shadow of a Doubt, Suspicion) wrote the script, based on Selwyn Jepson's 1947 novel Man Running. Jane Wyman, Marlene Dietrich, Michael Wilding, and Richard Todd star.

Stage Fright has been restored in 4K from the original nitrate camera negative with  DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 Mono. Special features are listed below.

Special features:

Hitchcock and Stage Fright featurette

Theatrical trailer

In Alfred Hitchcock's world, theaters are where danger stalks the wings, characters are not what they seem, and that "final curtain" can drop any second. The droll Stage Fright springs from that entertaining tradition. Jane Wyman plays drama student Eve Gill, who tries to clear a friend (Richard Todd) being framed for murder by becoming the maid of flamboyant stage star Charlotte Inwood (Marlene Dietrich).

Pre-order Stage Fright.

[conflicted-crowd]

Muses and Faceclaims

Will give bios upon request

Harry Potter

Harry Potter - Daniel Radcliffe

Hermione Granger - Emma Watson

Molly Weasley - Julie Walters

Ginny Weasley - Bonnie Wright

Fred Weasley - James Phelps

Charlie Weasley - Sam Heughan

Draco Lucius Malfoy - Tom Felton

Newt Scamander - Eddie Redmayne

Severus Snape - Alan Rickman

Alexander Snape - Finn Wittrock

Victor Simon Napoleon Silverwick - Julian Morris

Donavon Andrews - Domhnall Gleeson

Nathan Christopher Wells - Luke Newberry

Scarlet Wells - Julianne Moore

Twilight

Oliver Cullen - Timothée Chalamet

Jasper Hale - Jackson Rathbone

Carlisle Cullen - Peter Facinelli

Edward Cullen - Robert Patterson

Alice Cullen - Ashley Greene

Emmett Cullen - Kellan Lutz

Rosalie Hale - Nikki Reed

Aro - Michael Sheen

Seth Clearwater - Booboo Stewart

Leah Clearwater - Julia Jones

Percy Jackson

Thomas Ryan Soleil - Calum Worthy

Theodore "Teddy" Castellan - Jake Abel

Charlotte Sienna Miles - Megan Fox

Ares - Dave Navarro

Hades - Richard Madden

Persephone - Isla Fisher

Hadestown

Orpheus - Reeve Carney

Star Wars

Zade Kalliday - Mattias Inwood

The Umbrella Academy

Allison Hargreeves - Emmy Raver-Lampman

Disney

Prince Eric - Diego Boneta

Flynn Rider - Jake Gyllenhaal

Pascal - Asa Butterfield

Pitch Black - Benedict Cumberbatch

Jack Frost (younger) - Lucky Blue Smith

Jack Frost (older) - Martin Short

Scott - John McCrea

Harry Hook - Timothy Doherty

Belle - Samantha Barks

Mirabel Madrigal - Morena Baccarin

Bruno Madrigal - Jesus Luz

Camilo Madrigal - Tre Samuels

In the Heights

Usnavi - Anthony Ramos

Dark Shadows

Barnabas Collins - Johnny Depp

Gotham

Oswald Cobblepot - Robin Lord Taylor

Jervis Tetch - Benedict Samuel

Peter "Puck" Davies - Peter Mark Kendall

Scott Pilgrim vs the World

Wallace Wells - Kieran Culkin

Schitts Creek

David Rose - Dan Levy

Patrick Brewer - Noah Reid

Ted Mullens - Dustin Mulligan

Santa Clarita Diet

Joel Hammond - Timothy Olyphant

Something Rotten!

William Shakespeare - Christian Borle

Cabin Pressure

Martin Crieff - Benedict Cumberbatch

Arthur Shappey - John Finemore

Brooklyn 99

Raymond Holt - Andre Braugher

Dear Evan Hansen

Evan Hansen - Ben Platt

Be More Chill

Michael Mell - George Salazar

Shadow and Bone

Matthias Helvar - Calahan Skogman

Fedyor Kaminsky - Julian Kostov

Genya Safin - Daisy Head

iCarly

Spencer Shay - Jerry Trainor

Freddie Benson - Nathan Kress

Atypical

Zahid Raja - Nikki Dodani

Casey Gardner - Brigette Lundy-Paine

Sherlock

Sherlock Holmes - Benedict Cumberbatch

Marvel

Samantha Barnes - Katharine McPhee

Vision - Paul Bettany

Bridgerton

Anthony Bridgerton - Jonathon Bradley

Good Omens

Anthony Crowley - David Tennant

You

Joe Goldberg - Penn Badgely

Lord of the Rings

Legolas - Orlando Bloom

Pippin Took - Billy Boyd

Samwise Gamgee - Sean Astin

Faelyn Haemir - Andrew Garfield

Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Lucifer Morningstar - Luke Cook

Hilda Spellman - Lucy Davis

Sabrina Spellman Morningstar- Kiernan Shipka

Prudence Blackwood - Tati Gabrielle

Jesse Scratch - Jay Hayden

Devin Ryder - Tyler Posey

Jordan Undergrove - Adam Brody

Stardust

Elysia - Zoey Deutch

Heathers

Jason Dean (JD) - Christian Slater Les Miserables

Marius Pontmercy - Eddie Redmayne

Friends

Monica Geller - Courtney Cox

Ross Geller - David Schwimmer

Criminal Minds

Aaron Hotchner - Thomas Gibson

Derek Morgan - Shemar Moore

Legend of the Seeker

Seraphina Renae - Amy Adams

Darken Rahl - Craig Parker

Fandomless

Rosetta Anastasia Glennwood - Dianna Agron

James Glennwood - James Spader

Sophia Ella McKenzie - Lily James

Isaiah Michael Smith - David Corenswet

Victoria Marie Julietta Harrington - Anne Hathaway

Greyson Richard Michaels - Nick Robinson

Damien Ryder Flare - Joel McHale

Travis Wright - Andrew Rannells

Daniel Storm - Cillian Murphy

Antonio Frances - Cheyenne Jackson

Jamie Taylor - Ross Lynch

Dean Taylor - Harry Connick Jr

Spencer Taylor - Evan Peters

Parker Eaton - Jonathan Groff

Tyler Eaton - Ben Platt

Warren Hall - Jordan Bridges

Xavier Collins - Tom Payne

Henry Sparks - Freddie Highmore

Axel Simmons - Chris McNally

Levi Haynes - Louis Partridge

Andrew Bentley - Aneurin Barnard

Prince Clifton Whitehall - Andrew Scott

Prince Carson Whitehall - Andrew Scott

Lane Dallaway - Ben Levi Ross

[potatocrab]

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (13/18)

Chapter 13: An Abominable Man

At the Valentine Detective Agency, the group reconvenes to discuss MIT’s revelations to the public. With more questions than answers, it’s up to Piper to follow the trail while Nick continues the cold case investigation. After reliving a past trauma, Madelyn takes comfort in the distractions Deacon provides. Later, Nick and Madelyn follow a clue straight to the man they’ve been hunting for.  

“He was an abominable man. Why do women marry abominable men?” - Charlotte Inwood as played by Marlene Dietrich (Stage Fright, 1950)

[read on Ao3] x  [chapter masterpost]

May 16th, 1958

Man or Machine? –The Synthetic Truth Behind MIT

The newest copy Publick Occurrences was waiting on Ellie’s desk when Madelyn arrived at the agency early that Friday morning, the stack of newspapers fresh off the presses and ready for circulation. Piper certainly didn’t dawdle after attending the MIT demonstration—she knew how to strike when the iron was hot and get a story out in record time. But Piper was never one to procrastinate—if you gave her and inch, she’d run a mile. Madelyn was interested to see what kind of marathon the reporter would run this time.

“What do we really know about MIT?”

Piper’s question hung in the air of Nick’s office as she paced before his desk, arms crossed with a steely expression. The detective himself was still reading over that morning’s edition, already on his second smoke of the day—nobody dared to reprimand him for getting such an early start, not when he was still within his grieving period. Madelyn watched the newshound’s movements from her usual spot in the armchair to the left, wondering if Piper’s eyebrows furrowed any further they might mold together into one, brown, bushy line. She hid her amusement behind her hand, glancing back to where Deacon was leaning against the back wall, holding a relaxed smirk as he silently observed the room’s occupants from behind his tinted shades. Even though the chair next to her was empty, she knew he was more comfortable where he stood, still cautious about being invited back into the fray of agency life.

“You’re worried about…” Nick looked up from reading the Publick Occurrences article. “A robot?”

Piper balked in offence, abruptly stopping in her strides to face him. “Jesus, Nick, did you lose track of your reading comprehension skills or something?”

“Not a robot,” she corrected, waving her hands in dramatic fashion as Nick frowned at her intended insult. “An android. A synth. MIT have essentially built themselves an infiltration unit—”

“We don’t know that,” Nick interrupted with a grumble.

“They installed it with a distinct personality,” Piper explained, gesturing to the black and white photo of the mechanical man that had been presented the previous day. “The Doctor said it himself. Makes it so they are indistinguishable from you or I.”

Nick rubbed at his chin as he studied the snapshot before pulling away to stare at his prosthetic hand—built by the very scientists Piper was questioning. He clenched his fingers into a fist and sighed. “I’d like to think I’d be able to tell that thing from a human,” he muttered, extinguishing his cigarette. He refrained from igniting a third from his nearby pack. “Looks fairly metal to me.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Piper argued. She pivoted, gesturing towards Madelyn and Deacon. “You were there! You saw how it moved.”

“Yes,” Madelyn agreed with a short nod, though she had her own hesitations. Despite the suspicion raised at the demonstration, she wasn’t one to jump to conclusions without solid proof in hand. “Doctor Ayo suggested it would be years before the synth could actually look anything like a human.”

“Can we actually trust the scientists and researchers at MIT?” Piper countered.

This wasn’t her usual wild goose-chase or paranoia fueling her, but genuine fear and concern. A kind of worry that Madelyn hadn’t seen in her friend since they started investigating Eddie Winter’s rise as family crime boss and his rampant spree through Boston. But this wasn’t some mobster they were after, this was the Massachusetts Institute of Technology—a revered university that had always played a pivotal role in the city’s development of modern science. Without the Institute—as some affectionately called the college—Boston would still be in the dark ages. Like any industry giant, however, so much of what the Institute accomplished was shrouded in mystery. From their elusive board of directors, to their once-in-a-blue-moon presentations—it was any wonder Piper was suspicious.

“The way that doctor spoke,” Piper continued, a little calmer than before. “There’s the implication they’ve built more than one, and they’re just itching to put them to use. If they haven’t already.”

She picked up a spare copy of Publick Occurrences from Nick’s desk and stared at her own headline. “It bears repeating. What do we really know about the Institute?”

Silence settled within the room as the group contemplated what Piper said.

“She’s right.”

Madelyn peered over at Deacon, who barely moved from his spot against the wall. He offered a small shrug as he repeated his words. “She’s right,” he spoke, much to Piper’s surprise. “What do we know?”

“You’ve covered them before, right?” he asked, continuing his train of thought. “Something about the mayor’s campaign funds?”

The journalist raised a curious eyebrow in his direction. “Didn’t realize you were such an avid reader of my publication.”

“I like to stay informed,” Deacon replied, cheekily. “Freedom of the press, and all that.”

“They’ve shown up in Railroad reports as well,” Madelyn added, keeping the conversation on point. It certainly caught Piper and Nick’s attention. Deacon, however, seemed less than enthused about her sharing insider knowledge. But the information was out in the open now, ripe for dissection.

“Seems suspicious—promising,” Piper said with a curious smile. She glanced to Deacon. “For an undercover organization, can’t you find out more? Send one of your agents to snoop around the university for secrets? Sneak around yourself, Mr. Spy?”

“You make it sound so easy,” he responded with a smirk, though Madelyn could tell Piper’s tone was getting on his nerves. “Why don’t you go stalk the boogeyman, Miss Wright?”

“Maybe I will!”

“For once I’d like to have a civil conversation in my office,” Nick interrupted, already striking a new match to light another cigarette.

Madelyn could only imagine the amount of stress he was experiencing, and their presence wasn’t helping. She glanced at the others. “We might as well start from the beginning. What else do we know about the university? Media reports, rumors…anything?”

“There was an attack in 1955 at University Point,” Deacon recalled. “A fight broke out between some Mass Bay and MIT students over some supposedly stolen tech. One of the MIT kids lost control and beat a Mass Bay freshman to a bloody pulp.”

“I wrote about that too,” Piper remarked. “The student died. Didn’t think it was anything but a student brawl gone bad. Seen plenty of those covering the Fens district. What does that have to with what they’re doing now?”

“You’re the one who’s suggesting they’ve been using synths longer than they claim,” Deacon explained. “I’m just trying to offer evidence that supports your theory, is all.”

“That would mean…” Madelyn trailed, alarmed by the connotation. She furrowed her brows, unable to wrap her head around what was being suggested. She wasn’t about to trust what the Institute scientists had claimed at the demonstration—that they were years away from life-like synths— but she needed more proof than one incident that sounded more like a disagreement gone awry. “Is there anything else?”

“1949,” Nick spoke, gaining everyone’s interest. “I had just set up the agency here. Vadim told me about an Italian restaurant across the way from the stadium, praised their homemade pasta,” he leaned back in his chair, clearly reminiscing on nearly a decade’s old memory. “Before I could make a visit, the place was shut down. Turns out a professor, Mr. Carter, from MIT decided it was the perfect place to commit mass murder.”

“I remember that restaurant, but I’ve never heard about that!” Piper seemed genuinely shocked, especially as someone who had lived in the Boston area all her life. “What happened?”

“Seemed like any other patron at first, according to witnesses. Sat at the bar and told war stories, spoke about a big government grant his department had just been given. Then suddenly—” Nick snapped his fingers, his expression solemn as he explained. “Pulled out a revolver and started shooting. After an hour-long stand-off, Boston P.D. opened fire and put him down. When the dust settled, eight people were dead, including the professor.”

Madelyn pointed out what she hoped would be obvious. “If Mr. Carter were a synth, you’d think they’d be able to determine that after his death.”

“Assuming there wasn’t a cover-up,” Nick offered with a shake of his head. “The event itself was conveniently swept away in the news-cycles. Between the Red Scare in Hollywood and some ape dying in space—”

“Poor Albert,” Deacon quipped. Madelyn resisted the urge to laugh amidst their serious discussion and looked his way. He only smiled.

Nick cleared his throat, pulling their attention back. “As I was saying,” he tapped his fingers against the newspaper spread across his desk. “That’s two instances of MIT personnel losing themselves to madness. Piper, you’re the one who is worried about synths going unchecked. Malfunctioning and attacking without provocation. I’m all for throwing accusations against a reputable establishment when something smells rotten, but you need to be sure before going after something, or someone as big as the Institute.”

He was right, even as he inferred he believed Piper’s theories. Madelyn thought about what the group had discussed, and what she’d seen at the MIT conference the previous day. To think that the university had lied and had secretly placed realistic synths—indistinguishable from real humans—in the Boston populace. Worse yet, they had been doing so for years. Confusion settled in her mind—why? Why come forward now with the revelation of a new prototype if they’d been infiltrating the city all this time? It wouldn’t be the first time she dealt with a corruption scandal. What did the university have to gain from planting sleeper agents—synths—throughout Boston in the first place? She only ended up with more questions than answers.

Piper seemed to share a similar sentiment, a worrisome frown etched into her features. “I’ll hit the streets, connect with some sources,” she paused, giving Nick a cautious glance. “I know you still don’t trust him, but ol’ Danny Sullivan might be my best shot at getting any information from old police files,” she rolled her eyes when he groaned. “Or would you rather I break into precincts, for old time sakes?”

“Do what you will,” Nick sighed, rubbing at his temple. “Just leave us out of it for the time being,” he motioned towards Madelyn. “We’ve got enough on our hands with this cold case.”

Not that Piper needed his permission to follow her own leads for a story, but it was nice to have the support of a friend—the three had been working together for a few years now, and despite her reputation, she wasn’t one to run off and go rogue. Especially when it could put herself, or others, in danger. Considering they’d just come off from putting an end to Eddie Winter and his wide-spread corruption, she needed to tread lightly—well, as lightly as Piper was capable of. With a shrug, she moved to occupy the opposite armchair, sinking back into the cushions.

“Do you think any of this is connected to the Shaun Perlman case at all?” Madelyn decided to ask, gauging Nick’s reaction.

“I’d rather not cross that bridge right now,” he mumbled, dragging his palm across his face in exasperation. He shot a warning glance to Piper before she could get started. “Better we focus on the best lead we have—the kidnapper, and the fact he very well may be the same man who killed Madelyn’s husband.”

It felt like the air was sucked out of the room as she sensed all eyes focus on where she was sitting. She hadn’t expected Nick to be so upfront about sharing the information, but they were amongst trusted colleagues—anyone else and she likely would’ve had a more hostile reaction. That being said, she hadn’t divulged any case details to Deacon, and she his subtle reaction to the news didn’t go unnoticed out of the corner of her eye. Her secrecy wasn’t to be deceptive, but rather to protect her emotions. Madelyn was still struggling with the reality of the situation, and it took all the mental fortitude she had left to focus on helping to solve the case.  

“What are you talking about?” Piper asked, looking between her and Nick.

“Preston, our witness from Concord. His description of the kidnapper…” he trailed.

“That wasn’t all,” Madelyn reluctantly added. “The way the wife, Nora…the way she described the kidnapping. It was all too familiar,” she swallowed down the nervous flutter rising in her throat and steadied her breathing the best she could. “From being ambushed in a public setting, to the way he made them—us—beg for our lives.”

“You don’t have to—” Nick tried to interrupt but she hushed him with one steely look.

“He was wearing a military fatigue and a leather jacket. His head was shaved, and there was a long scar that crossed over his left eye—just as Preston described,” Madelyn continued. “His gun wasn’t military issue, that much I know. Had to be modified, on account of the—” she broke off as the tears prickled her vision. Deacon shifted from his spot against the back wall, but she shook her head, silently rooting him to the spot.

“The coroner pulled a .44 hollow point from Nate’s chest,” she stated, biting back the overwhelming desire to cry. She lowered her gaze, focusing on the wedding ring she’d moved to her right hand. “Same kind they pulled from…” she found herself unable to say the husband’s name.

Nick took note of her struggle and interjected. “Mr. Perlman’s arm.”

Piper loudly clapped her hands together, causing Madelyn to flinch at the sound. She didn’t pause to apologize before she was bent forward and speeding through another tangent. “That weapon! A .44 caliber with hollow point bullets? I’ve read about several unsolved murders up and down the Eastern coastline with that modus operandi.”

“We can’t say that every shooting with a magnum was him, can we?” Madelyn asked, focusing her attention on Nick. He was smoking again, but she’d lost track of what number he was on.

“No,” he mumbled, the cigarette bobbing between his lips as he maneuvered the paperwork strewn about his desk, pulling out a tattered notebook. She wasn’t sure what he was looking at when he started reading. “1950—robbery outside the Boylston Club. Two injured, one dead, with—wouldn’t you know—a .44 hollow point bullet to the head.”

Madelyn grimaced, trying not to imagine what that would’ve looked like for the victim—perhaps Nate had it easier, even if he had a slow, and painful death.

“There was a suspect,” Nick read on, flipping though an old casefile. “Released on a technicality, but we all know by now that is code for corruption. Disappeared after that. No trace.”

“How much do you want to bet it’s our guy?” Piper asked to nobody in particular.

“Five bucks says it was Kellogg!”

Everybody in the room turned towards the new presence in the doorway—MacCready, who stared back with equal surprise. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop or nothin’ but…” he jutted his thumb over his shoulder towards the lobby. “That blonde chick wasn’t around to shoo me away, so I thought I’d—”

“Who the hell is Kellogg?” Nick stopped him from rambling.

“Oh, yeah. Right,” MacCready stepped into the office and shrugged. “Way you described him and that gun, only one person I know that fits the bill,” he said. “Conrad Kellogg.”

“Who is he?” Piper asked this time, turning in her seat so she could look at the former mercenary properly.

“Used to run with the Gunners, still might for all I know, but was high up in the ranks way before I came to Boston,” MacCready explained, leaning over the back of the armchair where Piper sat. “Rumor has it he killed some gang leader out in California before heading East. Never met him, but he’s got one hell of a reputation. Can’t believe that fu—” he hesitated, awkwardly clearing his throat. “Guy is still alive.”

“We don’t know that,” Nick said for the second time that morning. “Hasn’t been any reports of similar cases since—”

“Since Nate,” Madelyn finished, gulping down the ache that had formed in her chest.

“At least now you have a name,” Piper remarked, but it was hardly any consolation. “A lead. Better than nothing.”

“Sure, sure,” Nick agreed, though he didn’t lift his gaze from Madelyn, the two sharing a silent exchange. “MacCready, you know anybody in Quincy who’d be willing to talk?”

Their mercenary-turned-informant looked stunned, jolting upright as he anxiously rubbed at his neck. Getting dragged into another investigation was probably not why he had chosen to visit the agency that morning. Whatever the reason, it would have to wait. “Well, sure,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, I guess.”

Nick pushed back his chair to stand, moving towards the nearby coatrack to tug on his patched trench-coat and fedora. He pointed to the younger man. “Alright. You’re with me.”

When the detective noticed the confusion on Madelyn’s face, his expression settled. “I’m officially assigning you R&R.”

She couldn’t help but smile a little. “You don’t have the authority to assign me.”

Nick rolled his eyes, mumbling something about how stubborn women would be the death of him before nodding towards Deacon. Her Railroad partner understood the gesture and moved away from his spot to stand next to her. She didn’t need watching over, or protection, but she’d gladly take a reprieve if it meant spending time with him. Madelyn glanced up to find him with a tiny smile of his own, and he reached out to give her shoulder a comforting squeeze before retreating his hand back to his side before anyone could notice.

“Piper,” Nick gave the reporter a pointed stare before exhaling as he shook his head. “Whatever you do, just—be careful.”

She stood, playfully mocking him with a salute. “Aye, aye, detective.�� 

“You lied.”

“Of course I lied,” Deacon responded without missing a beat. “Which lie are we talking about?”

Madelyn softly laughed from her spot across the circular dining table, watching as he poured her another glass of wine. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been out to dinner—to an actual restaurant that wasn’t a 24-hour café—and was suddenly grateful for Nick’s subtle push. On Deacon’s suggestion they traveled uptown and found themselves a hidden gem of an Italian bistro in the process. More than one macabre joke about running into an Institute spy was made, wondering if Nick’s earlier mention of pasta had indoctrinated them, if only a little.

“When Piper asked about sending an undercover Railroad agent to MIT,” she clarified, bringing her refilled glass to her lips. “You lied.”

A sideways smirk. “I didn’t lie, I just omitted the truth.”

Madelyn chuckled, nearly choking on her drink. “That’s—that’s the same thing!”

“Hardly,” he countered with a wave of his hand. “Do you honestly think I’d talk about Railroad business in front of Piper?” It was a rhetorical question, followed up with words Madelyn had heard him speak time and time again, “you can’t trust everyone.”

She sighed, and couldn’t help it as her demeanor fell, ever so slightly. “Even me?”

Deacon’s expression was hard to read—it always was when he shielded his eyes with those sunglasses—but she figured he was studying her carefully. After all the emotional breakthroughs they’d shared, she didn’t want to think for a second he didn’t trust her—not when he was one of the very few she found faith in. She wondered if it had anything to do with her holding back information on the Shaun Perlman case, and even more doubt filled her mind. Before he could say anything, she had to speak—

“Sorry,” she set her wine glass down and fidgeted with the linen tablecloth. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about what Nick and I discovered while investigating. I should’ve said something sooner and—”

“Charmer,” Deacon stopped her short, reaching over the small table to cover her hand with his own, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. “That doesn’t bother me. If it wasn’t you, I would’ve snooped around and found out already. But that’s not my place in this partnership, not anymore. I trust you to tell me whatever’s important, on your own terms.”

Trust—there it was.

Madelyn gradually allowed the smile to return and flicked her gaze across his face. “Does that mean I’m allowed to have secrets?”

“A few,” he caught on to her tease. “You still haven’t told me who really taught you how to pick locks.”

Her chest tightened as she thought about her departed husband, simultaneously reminiscing about her and Deacon’s first jaunt together through the underground Switchboard tunnels. Her fingers twitched beneath his grasp. “Who says anybody taught me?” she joked, recovering as best she could.

He nodded, flashing that secret smile that told her he knew she was bluffing—but he was never one to rat her out. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, slowly withdrawing his hand from hers.

“Dez is the only one that knows,” he started. “We’ve had an inside man—hell, it might be a woman—nobody has met with the agent face to face,” Deacon’s lips skewed to the side in thought. “They aren’t an official Railroad operative. But they’re the ones that started feeding us information while we were still operating at the Switchboard.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Madelyn asked, trying not to sound accusatory.

“Back then, Dez and I weren’t sure of what we were dealing with,” he explained. “It was all coded. Most of it still is. We only knew the source was coming from what we believed to be an ally, working on the inside.”

“How can you be so sure?” She was rightfully skeptical. “You never found out who was responsible for attacking the Switchboard.”

“Fair point,” Deacon replied with a shrug. “We never stopped receiving correspondence either. Even after moving to the church. Dead drops with encrypted MIT data from Doctor Rendezvous themselves.”

She tried not to laugh. “Is that what you call them? Of all the codenames…”

“No,” he shook his head. “Dez and I call them Patriot.”

At least that explained all the reports Tinker Tom and Glory had been sifting through for the last several weeks. She wondered if any of it would prove fruitful, and if something of value would materialize sooner rather than later. You can’t trust everyone—and yet, the Railroad leaders seemed to be playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse with an unknown. She hoped they knew what they were doing.

“Enough work chat,” Deacon mused, plucking the napkin from his lap and placing it across the table. “What would you say to some blueberry pie?”

Madelyn grinned, pulled from her doom and gloom thoughts. “Yes.”

-x-

It was a short, hand-in-hand stroll through the uptown district to the Olympia Theatre, where she fixated on the matinee signs advertising Gigi—she hadn’t seen a film in years. If it wasn’t a late night rerun on CBS, she was completely out of the loop on modern day culture. She’d seen Leslie Caron in An American in Paris—a movie date with Nate so many years ago—seeing her picturesque face on the advertisement now brought back bittersweet memories.  

“Pie and dancing tonight,” Deacon’s voice was suddenly in her ear as he leaned close. “Lerner and Loewe tomorrow.”

The promise alone caused excitement to bloom in her heart, even if a trickle of guilt remained. He gently tugged on her hand, and she followed him down the cobblestone alleyway to the familiar red door and golden placard, leaving the theatre behind.  

The Memory Den was expectedly crowded for a Friday evening, but as soon as Irma caught sight of the two, she quickly ushered them to a private corner of the bar. Madelyn recognized it as Deacon’s corner—if he had such a claim to the place. Given Irma was an unspoken Railroad informant, Madelyn was sure he could very well have run of the place—especially now that Eddie Winter was out of the picture. It was hardly quiet were they perched themselves on two barstools as the house band played an upbeat song, but Irma’s cheery voice was loud as ever.

“We have a live singer tonight,” she boasted, standing between them with her hands on her hips.

Madelyn chuckled as she glanced towards the stage. “As long as it isn’t Bobby Darin.”

“Oh—” Irma faltered, unsure of her joke. “Uh, no. You’ll see! They came all the way from New York!” she beamed. “Now, I’ve seen the way you two can move, so why are you sittin’ around?”

Deacon arched an eyebrow and leaned against the bar-top. “We can’t dance on an empty stomach.”

Ironic, considering their stomachs were full of pasta, bread and wine. Madelyn only smiled at Irma when she glanced between them with curiosity. The other woman sighed before moving around the bar, walking down to the far end of the counter where a glass display showcased a variety of deserts. After a few minutes, she returned with a plate and two forks.

“Lucky you,” Irma remarked. “Last slice of the night.”

Deacon deferred to Madelyn, allowing her the first bite—it was just as delicious as she remembered, when he brought her an entire blueberry pie from Irma on Valentine’s Day. She held her palm beneath her chin on the second bite, trying not to disperse crumbs or berries all over her satin dress. She didn’t realize Deacon was watching her movements until she went for a third forkful, noticing he hadn’t taken his first. Very suddenly, a blush crept up her cheeks and he smirked.  

Irma baked away with a bright grin. “You’re welcome!”

Deacon finally took a bite, followed up with a second so they were even. They sat and ate in silence, smiling and laughing at each other over nothing and everything as the atmosphere around them intensified. Madelyn blamed it on being tipsy from her dinner wine, but a lingering thought in the back of her mind echoed it was more than that. It was always more with Deacon.

“You said there’d be dancing,” Madelyn noted, eying the crowd of dancers when their desert was finished. The singer Irma mentioned had taken the stage and had already played through a melody of fast-paced swing ensembles to warm up the audience and the band.

He nodded, taking her hand in his as he slid off the barstool to stand. As soon as they navigated through the throng of people, the lights dimmed into a bluish-purple hue, and the band’s music slowed. It didn’t deter them—they’d slow danced before, but that was undercover and what felt like a lifetime ago. This was something entirely different. Deacon’s arms encircled her waist, one hand on her lower back and the other planted firmly between her shoulders. Madelyn loosely wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned back far enough so she could study his face in the dark lighting.

“Last time we were here, you tried to slice my throat in the hallway,” he smiled at the memory, and so did she. Thinking back, it was any wonder he hadn’t turned the tables and pinned her to the wall—he certainly possessed the strength to do so. Madelyn didn’t let the thought get carried away in her mind, as much as it thrilled her.

“You weren’t so keen on dancing with me,” he remarked, tilting his head to the side.

“But I did,” she countered, inching herself closer. “You were a stranger. I should’ve known better, but I still danced with you.”

Deacon shrugged. “I still might be a stranger, you never know.”

“Bullshit.”

“Adorable,” he retorted, right on cue. “You still want to dance with me, after everything you know?”

Madelyn suddenly wondered if they were speaking in code—Deacon wasn’t really talking about dancing, was he? She desperately wished she could see beyond the tinted shades he was wearing, knowing if she caught a glimpse of those baby blues, she’d have her answer within a heartbeat. Regardless of the inuendo, she knew what to say.

“Why not?” she offered in a soft voice. “You make one hell of a partner.”

He smiled. “You’re not so bad yourself, Charmer.”

As the song continued, she steadily drew herself closer until she was resting her head against his shoulder, swaying slowly in his arm as the soothing beat echoed around them.

“You’ll see me home tonight?” she asked, closing her eyes to the world around her. She felt his lips brush against her temple near her ear as he whispered so only she could hear.

“Yes.”

-x-

Madelyn had never traversed the stairwell of her apartment so slowly. With Deacon at her side, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to reach the seventh floor, knowing that when they reached her door he would have to depart. That wasn’t necessarily true, but after the evening’s events, she wasn’t entirely sure if inviting him in for their usual nightcap would constitute crossing some kind of unspoken line. But what had started as a distraction had turned into what felt like a date. She was faced with an increasing dilemma with every step, one she’d been suppressing for weeks.

Their relationship—whatever it was—wasn’t a topic of discussion. Even after so many near misses, and what might as well have been a confession in a church—of all places—Madelyn couldn’t pinpoint where they stood. Partners? Friends? Something more? Or something in-between? Mitigating circumstances forced them to pump the brakes before discovering if what they had was meant to be. But now, Madelyn was tired of waiting, tired of hiding her emotions to the world. All she wanted to do was drive off the cliff with a lead foot and find out.

“Charmer,” he said her name—her codename—in that sly way of his as he leaned against the doorway outside her apartment, glancing up at the shiny lettering D. Madelyn took it as some kind of sign. “Here we are.”

She nodded but didn’t move to rummage through her purse for her keys. “Here we are,” she repeated. Her eyes danced across the hall. “Do you think Drummer Boy is listening to us right now?”

“Without a doubt,” he responded with a soft laugh. “He needs all the gossip he can get.”

There was somebody else that was listening too, judging by the robotic voice that echoed out from beyond her door. “Miss Madelyn, is that you? Oh, it’s such a late hour!”

She groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead in a vain attempt to hide her embarrassment. What was worse than having a Mister Handy that acted like her parental guardian, reprimanding her if she came home past midnight?

“Your metal hubby is calling for you,” Deacon joked. His next action surprised her as he reached up to remove his sunglasses, tucking them away in his coat pocket. Even in the faint lighting of her hallway, his eyes gleamed with a certain kind of magic. “Shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

“Let him wait,” she hushed.

It was the cue she needed, taking a hesitant step forward, closer to where he was. She reached out, one hand gripping the fabric of his tie while the other sought out the side of his face, tugging gently to bring him closer. Madelyn thought about all the times she’d wanted to kiss him but didn’t, all the times they’d almost kissed but hadn’t, every time he had slipped through her fingertips. Standing there, in front of her apartment door, it seemed to mirror previous occasions—they were so close, Deacon’s breath ghosting over her mouth as their hooded eyes locked under the intensity. She hesitated, waiting for the other foot to drop, for some kind of interruption—except, it never came. Instead, his hand at her waist tugged her just close enough as he tilted his chin and—bliss—as their lips softly met.

For a long moment, the kiss was nothing but chaste, sweet. But there was a certain kind of desperation behind the contact—understandable considering how long it had been for her since her last kiss. She wasn’t sure how long it had been for him, but if she believed what he’d said about his wife—which she did—it had to be a significant time. Madelyn increased the pressure first, Deacon taking the cue to slide his tongue past her lips. His fingers gripped her side as they continued, the two content with the measured pace being set. Even though they both had done their fair share of waiting—there was no need to rush.

With a soft breath, she reluctantly pulled away, a delightful heat encompassing her entire body. She relished in being able to witness the sparkle of Deacon’s eyes, his blown pupils as they darted across her face and body before snapping back up to meet her gaze.

“Shouldn’t keep him waiting,” he repeated, voice raspy. As far as goodbyes and goodnights went, it was fitting for the Railroad spy. He smirked, replacing his sunglasses where they belonged before slowly backing away towards the stairwell. “Charmer.”

Madelyn didn’t enter her apartment until she was sure Deacon had descended at least a few flights of stairs, leaning against the door as she closed it behind her. Her heart was racing, the speed of which made it feel like it was lodged in her throat. She raised her fingers to trace over her lips where his mouth had just been and felt a warmth she had been chasing for months—years—a sprinkle of goosebumps appeared across her skin. She felt foolish, like a schoolgirl with a crush all over again—except, this was much more than a crush. She felt a rush. She felt alive. She felt—

“Mum?” Codsworth’s voice made her realize he’d been hovering in front of her frozen state, robotic eyes zooming in on her body with curiosity. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she answered, without hesitation. “Never better.” 

May 18th, 1958

“You’re smiling.”

Madelyn tried her best to suppress the grin she knew was pulling at her lips but failed. “Am I?”

She glanced over to Nick as they walked, noting that for some inexplicable reason he was in a better mood than usual. It likely had something to do with their case, and how after a decade of little to no progress, things had heated up in a matter of days. After leaving her alone for most of the weekend, he’d finally called her early that Sunday morning with an update from his own investigating. He had a lead promising enough that it demanded swift action, though Madelyn was glad to be back on the streets and investigating with the detective—just like old times.  

“Yeah,” he nodded, raising a quizzical brow in her direction. “Something I should know?”

Madelyn played coy, moving closer to link her arm in his as they continued their stroll down the Fenway district sidewalks. She patted his coat affectionately. “Mr. Valentine, don’t you know a lady shouldn’t kiss and tell?”

The surprise in his expression was short-lived as he caught on to her insinuation, and after a small stretch of silence, a low smirk settled on his face. “It’s a good look, doll.”

“Where are we headed?” Madelyn asked before he could start a line of questioning—not that she expected it, but she wanted to avoid any unnecessary pestering. “You never told me how your little date in Quincy faired.”

“I’ll tell you about my date when you tell me about yours,” he countered, with expert precision. Instead of taking offense, Madelyn laughed. They hadn’t bantered in so long and it felt refreshing. “MacCready can be a hard-ass, when you need him to be.”

“Good cop, bad cop?”

“Detectives,” Nick corrected. If there was one thing he hated, it was being mistaken for any member of the Boston police force—even if the two had snuffed out Eddie Winter’s corruption. It was one of the reasons they were heading this investigation on their own, and without assistance from the inside. As far as they knew, the only people worth trusting were themselves. “We got what we needed. Last known address for a one Conrad Kellogg.”

The pair continued walking past the large green walls of the Fenway stadium until they reached they grouping of apartments situated on the western side of the district. Almost immediately, the memory of when they’d last visited the Parkview Apartments came flooding back and she stared up at the tall buildings.

“Earl Sterling,” she muttered under her breath before looking to Nick. “Is it coincidence that Boston serial killers like to congregate in one area?”

“Cheap place to live, in a nondescript area of the city,” Nick frowned. “Hiding in plain sight. Coincidence? Maybe. Or maybe they don’t realize they all eventually follow the same patterns eventually.”

The two didn’t delay for much longer in the courtyard, entering the building and ascending the stairs after finding initials C.K. on one of the lobby’s mailboxes. On the fourth floor, they made their way towards a faded green door, Nick double checking the number scrawled on a lose piece of paper before shoving it back into his pocket.

“This is the place,” he assured.

“Looking for someone?”

Nick and Madelyn turned to find not exactly who they expected—a well dressed man in a tan colored suit, a freshly picked flower pinned to his lapel. He regarded them with a polite smile, but there was something unsettling about the way he stared ahead that had Madelyn’s skin crawling. Be it the location they were in, or the assumption of the people who lived there, she didn’t want to make any sudden movements.

“Do you know anything about the person who lives here?” Madelyn asked.

The suited man shook his head. “Lived. Haven’t seen his handsome face in quite a while.”

“Did he die?” she continued her line of questioning, careful not to reveal too much about the circumstances of why they were there. “We’re…old college classmates of his. In town and thought to surprise him.”

“Oh, I do love surprises,” the man replied with the same, measured smile as before. “He isn’t dead. Just gone. Just like that child that came to visit every now and again. What an adorable young man.”

“A child?” Nick questioned, on high alert.

“Around ten years old, I should say,” the man answered, raising his hand to gesture height. “Hm. But what do I know? He always did say I was…too nosy.”

“Thank you,” Madelyn hesitantly nodded. “For letting us know.”

He made to move past them down the hallway in the opposite direction but stopped at the last moment. “The next time you’re in the neighborhood, please, stop by my gallery,” his recommendation came in a soft, eerie tone. “I have a feeling you’d be an admirer.”

Madelyn’s grip on Nick’s arm didn’t loosen until the mystery man was out of sight and even he didn’t seem to relax until all was quiet around them.

“Jesus,” he muttered, swiftly turning towards the apartment door and shuffling through his coat pockets, pulling out a lockpick. He made quick work of the deadbolt, catching the doorknob in his hand so it wouldn’t swing open. “Come on.”

Nick took the lead, his gun unholstered and at his side as he took measured steps through the small space. Madelyn followed, closing the door behind her and securing the lock—the last thing they needed was a visitor while they were sneaking around. The apartment itself was sparse, barely filled with any furniture or proof that anyone had lived there before or had been there recently. As she loitered near the kitchen nook, glancing over a pile of forgotten comic books and a case of cigars, she heard Nick call from the back bedroom.

“All clear!” he announced. “What do you make of this?”

The bedroom was just as empty as the entranceway, a double bed and desk occupying the space. Madelyn found Nick studying a pile of documents, shifting them about with a mix of confusion and concern. She plucked a dusty file from the stack and was alarmed to see a familiar set of emblems and insignia.

“These are military documents,” she confirmed what he already knew, being a former airman himself. “What are they doing here?”

Nick shook his head, unsure. “Kellogg was described as a military man in suspect reports. What if that description is accurate and he really is an enlisted officer?”

“A killer in the ranks?” Madelyn didn’t want to believe it.

Nick didn’t respond, his eyes shifting rapidly as he read over more and more of the scattered reports, even if they were mostly redacted. Madelyn couldn’t make heads or tails of them—she never could, even when she would try to sneak a peak at the files Nate would bring home. Whatever Kellogg was researching, it involved a scientific endeavor—backed by the government and heavily funded—that required top level security clearance.

“There’s only one military base in town that would be responsible for such a project,” Nick explained. Madelyn knew. The only question would be how to get inside.  

He tapped the document. “Fort Hagen.”

[gsgaragedoors1]

DIY Garage Door Repair - Replacing Worn Opener Gears

Garage doors are always a conspicuous part of any home. Most of the time, it is the largest single piece of moving object in the home. As such it is a subject of much care and maintenance - no one would like to run into the door instead of the garage itself simply because the sensor or the opener failed to function.

To perform effective garage door repair, it is best to know first how garage doors work. The doors have remained relatively the same since their first conception in the ancient times as covers for chariots stored in gatehouses. In the early years of the 20th century, garage doors under the moniker "float over doors" started appearing in the catalogs of manufacturers such as the Cornell Iron Works. The upward-lifting garage door system that we know appeared at around 1906, and since has caught up with the continuing technological advancements.

Currently, most garage doors work with the aid of garage door openers, which are motorized devices used to open or close the doors. These devices were originally invented by C.G. Johnson in 1926. These devices did not become popular until after World War II, and are now part of almost every garage door installation. Garage door repair also involves knowledge in the maintenance of these pieces of equipment.

Most garage door openers work with chain-driven systems, and shredded plastic gears are a common problem. Fortunately, garage door repair concerning worn gears of these door openers need neither be difficult nor expensive - all it takes is the right knowledge.

When performing garage door repair on the opener installation, it is important to unplug the unit and shut the door by hand. Then, it is time to inspect the gears themselves. If they are worn out, new gears need to be installed. It is important to make sure one gets a compatible kit, which typically includes two new gears, washers, and some grease.

When proceeding with the installation, one may find it handy to loosen the circuit board of the installation to provide more elbow room to work. The chain should also be loosened from the tensioning rod by means of a wrench.

The entire assembly next needs to be lifted out of the unit. After removing the helical gear (secured by a pin) and the set screws using a hex wrench, the gears and washers can be slid off. The retaining screws on the motor should also be removed.

The new gears can then be installed, before replacing the motor assembly (basically the inverse of all the processes done so far). Make sure that the chain is tightened according to the instructions that come with the unit's manual, as improper tightening can cause further damage. After these simple garage door repair steps, the opener should now be functioning smoothly.

However, it is to be remembered that garage door repair jobs that exceed the basics should be checked by a licensed professional. can be very dangerous, and it is much better to let qualified specialists repair it that risk bodily injury or property damage.

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