Visions & Nightmares: An Arkham Horror Omnibus is on sale now, bringing together Mask of Silver, The Deadly Grimoire, and The Bootlegger’s Dance – three tales of mystery, adventure and eldritch horror in the golden age of movie-making, by Rosemary Jones. The collection also includes two brand new short stories, featuring Betsy Baxter, star of “The Flapper Detective”. Read “Gathering Shadows” now, and if you haven’t already you can read the first short story, “Old Terrors”, here.

From the desk of Betsy Baxter, BB Pictures

Darling Tom:

Just a quick note. I nearly sprained my hand writing pages and pages to Jeany. I sent Farnsworth for ice. My brilliant butler brought me back a whiskey and soda (destroy this letter if you see any signs of Prohibition agents interested in your mail or prepare to bake a file in a cake!). But I couldn’t wait to write to you. I experienced something so unsettling today and wish you were here instead of Boston so we could have a proper discussion. I’ve talked it over with Farnsworth, but he simply cautions me not to poke my nose where it could get bitten off. As if that’s practical advice.

I can’t tell this story to Jeany or Fred, not when they are in Paris enjoying their honeymoon. Because it’s so similar to what happened to us in Arkham (the first time, with Jeany and Fred, and the second time when I met you). I don’t want to bring up bad memories for Jeany and Fred. You also don’t deserve to suffer but I need to share this with someone. Secure your own drink, I’ll wait, and then read on.

I went to Lantern Top Pictures today as they wanted me to play a wicked woman. I already encountered one of their leading men, Andre Patel. But I hadn’t met the director, and you know how much I care about my directors. So off I went to Lot C to chat about being a villainess. Such a fun idea, maybe I should try a dual role in the Flapper Detective? I could be the detective’s evil twin.

When I arrived, they said Alice Gaither was busy directing a scene about monsters on Saturn. “Oh I adore monsters, can I watch?” I asked. Because you learn a lot about a director if you see them at work.

On the set of A Cosmic Journey, I found Andre, looking very suave as the hero, and a bunch of costumed extras milling about as you do before shooting begins. I wonder if the public understands how much time we stand and wait, we who labor in Hollywood.

“Mademoiselle Baxter!” Andre said when he saw me. “How is my favorite American daredevil?” I gave Andre a ride in the roadster a few days earlier. He started calling me a daredevil after rolling around Los Angeles with me (I’m sure I can’t think why and no comments from you, mister).

“I’m well, and please call me Betsy,” I replied. “Is Alice here?”

“No, no, she was called away,” Andre told me. “We still lack a few extras, and they needed her help with the Abominable Contessa’s next scene.”

“Oh yes,” I said. “I understand you’re filming three movies all at the same time.” It reminded me of the stories that Mack Sennett tells about his early days. Apparently Lantern Top embraced such chaotic creativity or lacked the money to hire more than one director.

“Yes, the second is set in the Contessa’s castle, and they needed Alice’s approval of the tapestries. The third is all about a forbidden jungle island full of secrets,” Andre said.

“Oh, that’s the one where they asked me to play the seductive priestess of a reptile cult,” I said. “I loved the idea.”

Andre shot me a strange look. “Perhaps, Betsy, it would not be a good role for you.”

“Now wait a minute,” I said, pulling myself up to my full five feet and one inch (I was wearing heels). “Are you saying I can’t be an evil vamp?”

“No, no.” Andre looked a little flustered. “I’m sure you can, how do you say it, vamp as well as anyone. But two women have already been injured on the set.”

“I knew I wasn’t anyone’s first choice to play a villainess,” I grumbled as Andre told me about how the original priestess and her understudy were no longer available.

Andre shrugged. “There’ve been several accidents apparently. I’m not sure what’s going on. Everyone keeps telling me it will be fine but…”

“Of course they say all is well,” I said. “You are the star. They don’t want to lose you. But I hope you’ll consider working at BB too. I could use a handsome actor in the Flapper Detective’s next serial. We’re filming in Paris.”

“Mademoiselle Betsy, it would be a delight to show you Paris,” Andre said very gallantly.

“Well, it would be me, my friend Tom, and our friends Jeany and Fred,” I said. “We’ve been planning this for some time.” See, Tom, I may think Andre would be a fabulous addition to the Flapper Detective series, but I have not forgotten you. Stop muttering at this letter about my flirting and keep reading.

“Don’t tell anyone yet,” I said to Andre. “I’ll ask my lawyers to talk to Lantern Top’s lawyers, so nobody’s feelings are hurt. Then we can all make lots of money.”

Andre laughed. “I love how you Americans approach the movies as a lucrative venture rather than artistic endeavor.”

“Oh it can be both,” I said. “Perhaps I should peek at this jungle island set. Maybe I can figure out what is causing the accidents. I’ve done so many stunts, I might be able to spot the flaw.”

“Come, I will show you,” Andre said. “It looks to be some time before they need me.”

The “island” consisted of a sad collection of rubber plants and palm trees with their pots hidden by painted rocks. Just as we started looking about, a flurried looking assistant ran up to us. “Mr Patel, they are ready for you now. Can you come back?”

“Certainly. Betsy, shall I introduce you to Alice?” Andre asked.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” I said. Something sparkling at the back of the set caught my eye. Andre left as I hunted through the rubber plants. Then, dear Tom, it happened.

As I stretched out my hand to touch a long gilded staff, the world tilted and I was no longer standing amid some drooping potted plants. I plunged into the horrid, fetid, buzzing woods behind the Fitzmaurice house. Or something very like those woods. The air stank and a roar shook the ground. I swear I saw a snake go slithering past me!

I leaped away from the staff and stumbled over a paper mâché rock, plopping right down on my silk-covered behind. After I pulled myself upright, shook out my skirts, and dusted off my pride, I went straight back into the set. But no matter how hard I searched, I couldn’t find the staff. It had vanished! As had the jungle.

I probably would be searching still, except Andre returned, leading a nice but rather tired looking woman. “Alice, this is Betsy Baxter,” he said. “Betsy, here is our hardworking director.”

After shaking hands and muttering a few polite nothings, I made my excuses much to their surprise. But I couldn’t stand there, chatting about work, when I could still smell those awful woods.

I keep thinking about how strange Lantern Top seems. Can you rummage through your uncle’s books for anything about a staff or a jungle popping up where you don’t expect it? You are the absolute whiz at finding such knowledge. Send a telegram as soon as you do.

Obviously, I must return to Lantern Top and discover what is causing the accidents. Andre was right to be concerned. I can’t let the poor man handle this on his own. Don’t worry about me. I’ll take Farnsworth and tell them he’s my personal assistant or some such excuse. Did I tell you that Farnsworth joined my judo class? He’s surprisingly good.

Now, with my mind made up about what to do at Lantern Top (I knew writing this letter would help me!), I can work on my plans for Paris. I have the most marvelous idea for a stunt at the Eiffel Tower.

Please tell your uncle hello from me. Enjoy your book cataloging. Really, you mustn’t lose any sleep over this letter. I promise to be very careful indeed on my next trip to Lantern Top.

With all my love and a few kisses,

Betsy

Rosemary Jones

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