The Investigation of Prof. Elwood Gerrits: Part II

After leaving Miskatonic University, I go to the Pickman Memorial Museum with nothing but a photo of Professor Gerrits and a vague discomfort. I’m greeted by another wonder of pointlessly cryptic structures. I haven’t seen anything this bizarre since my time in Egypt.
“Hello, I’m Professor Dueller, a colleague of Gerrits. May I speak to the curator?” Or can you tear yourself away from texting. It’s a wonder they don’t lose all sorts of things with such expert security cheerleaders.
“Uhhh, yeah, sorry. You lost a collie?”
I’ve never BEEN so sorry to see pretty girl; my face hurts, “Yes, the curator is holding it for me. Where is he?”
“Did you try his office?”
I have neither the time nor patience, “Can I see this a second? ‘Paging the curator to reception. Curator needed at reception.’ Thanks.” She’s already back to her phone.
“What’s going on here?” He must have been close by. That’s a little creepy … and annoying.
“Curator? Dueller, from Miskatonic. Let’s talk about Gerrits.”
“Oh, good. Come with me.” He’s taking me into the back, finally someone intelligent, “This is it. Open it up, please.”
What? “I don’t understand. Why would I open it?”
He looks unhappy, “You got the key from Professor Gerrits, right?”
What does he think is going on? “I was hired to find Gerrits. Crowley didn’t tell you, did he?”
“No. I believed the professor had simply abandoned his duties here, but he had the key to the warehouse. We only keep one, for security.”
High-school girls are guards, but an extra key is too much? “Well, if he’s been kidnapped then that’s why, but what would anyone want?”
“Professor Gerrits was researching some purely historical items, never meant for display. A few would be of extreme interest to certain off-color religious groups.”
You’re kidding me, “You mean cult groups?”
“Well, yes.”
“Well, you’re in luck. I happen to have a new key.” I love this. I must thank Agent Karson for his under-the-table provisions. Insert stem, pop capsule…
::hissss::
…foam expansion and solidification, “Voila. Don’t ask. Has anyone tried sneaking in lately?”
He’s in shock, “I placed an extra man on the door. There’s been nothing.”
Here comes the boredom, “I’d like to stay overnight and look around, see if anything exciting strikes me. They’ll be back eventually. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Ah… certainly,” perfect! He’s too impressed to say no. Now we wait…
*
I hate waiting. It’s almost 23:00. I’ll just—WAIT! Hello, black-hooded crazy-man. The guards will distract him while I … oh, crap.
“Good evening, gentlemen.”
“Ia, ia, vak tahl.”
That’s bad. Plan B: charge!
“HEY! WHO AR—“ ::KNOCK! Thud, thud::
“See what happens when you put your heads together? Sleep tight.” Now, let’s see who’s home. He must’ve been here all week. He’s got a whole stage set up back here, complete with alter and unholy book-stand. If I can sneak around maybe I can see what he’s … oh no. He is professor Gerrits.