Part Seven:
Doctor Jackson
Nathan
Jackson was not a happy man.
He
should have been on his way to Eagle Bend, preparing to meet one of the most
important appointments of his life but instead, he was riding into a small town
less than an hours ride away from that large city in
order to get cleaned up. The rain had not let up and if anything had become a
full blown storm pelting the earth with large drops of water that felt like
lashes against the skin. He supposed he ought to be grateful that the ferocity
of the weather had washed away the mud that he had been covered in after he
fell off his horse.
The
town was called Hadley’s Hope and as towns went it was a nice little place that
was home mostly to sheep graziers. It reminded Nathan
of Four Corners before the arrival of the seven, although crime was not as rife
here as it had been in the dry, dusty town that had been destined to be their
homes. The main street was just a narrow stretch of land flanked by a general
store, a hotel, a telegraph office, a post office, a jailhouse and all the
usual utilities that was necessary when more than a dozen people settled in a
place. Nathan and the others had reason to pass through the town on numerous
occasions on their way to Eagle Bend. The sheriff was a George Brooks, a former
Union soldier who had settled in the early days of the town and was a decent
enough man. He kept the town safe and was not above asking help.
The
town had been having troubles lately with a series of murders of young women
not unlike the crimes that had beset the town a few years ago when Silas Poplar
had come to
The
seven had offered to help but catching Poplar had been sheer luck and other
than manpower which Brooks had plenty off with the mobilisation
of the townspeople, there was little they could offer in the way of expertise.
Nathan knew that Chris was keeping a close eye on the situation in case the
killer shifted towns as Poplar had done when he had left a slew of bodies in
the wake of his travels. Nathan hoped the situation in Hadley’s Hope would not
see a body count as high before the killer was brought to justice.
As
he moved his horse towards the livery, he noticed a large gathering of people
outside the local dressmaker’s shop. Judging from the sombre
expressions on the faces of those collected at the boardwalk, trying to peer
through the glass and braving the rain, Nathan immediately felt his heart sink
that some tragedy had befallen the lady who conducted her business there.
Although he had not the time to deal with this, the lawmen inside of him forced
him to nudge his horse in the direction of the shop.
After
all, what would it hurt if he just had a little look?
His
arrival was barely noticed but even through the rain he could hear Brooks
telling his deputies to keep people away and wondered if he was intruding by
coming here. Nathan inched his horse to the nearest hitching post before
dismounting and tethering the animal to the slick wooden bar. When he stepped
onto the boardwalk, a few people glanced over their shoulders and paused a
moment if they recognised him. Those who did know him
from his previous visits simply returned to their viewing of the events taking
place inside the shop.
Nathan
skimmed the edge of the crowd, looking over the tops of people’s heads to see a
pair of boots protruding from beneath a white sheet. He felt his stomach
hollow, knowing those boots belonged to the next victim of the murder who had
fallen prey to the mad man who was roaming the streets of Hadley’s Hope. He
could hear someone weeping and had no doubt that there would be many such tears
in the days following this grisly discovery. Suddenly, he saw Brooks emerge
from the front door and issued orders to his deputy to keep people out of the
crime scene.
Brooks
was a lean wiry man. His build was not much larger than Ezra with a face worn
by hard living and intelligent blue eyes that showed there was much compassion
in his soul despite his hardened features. His dark brown hair was slowly greying and the moustache on his face was making better
progress of the two. His eyes scanned the crowd, trying to see past their faces
to see into their souls in order to find a killer. Nathan could see that the
deaths had effected him and the expression in his
eyes seemed haunted.
"Nathan!" Brooks suddenly exclaimed, catching sight of the healer’s
face in the crowd.
"Sheriff
Brooks." Nathan tipped his soggy hat a little as the crowd parted for
Brooks as he ploughed his way straight through them to reach the visitor from
"Yeah,"
Brook nodded casting a brief glance at the door even though his eyes could not
bring himself to look at the body once again. "Thelma Rutledge. She was
our local dressmaker. Listen Nathan, our doctor up and moved with all the
killing and I would surely appreciate it if you could take some time to have a
look a Miss Rutledge and tell us what you can about the body. I mean I know
there probably ain’t no difference from the last three that were killed but
every victim is important and it helps us bring this bastard to justice."
Nathan
did not know what to say. He had commitments in Eagle Bend and he was late
already but then Brooks did not make this request lightly and an autopsy could
not take him that long. All he had to do was make some quick observations and
be on his way. The weather was bad and that was a plausible enough of an excuse
for him to be a little late for his appointment. Surely they would not penalise him for that?
"To tell you the truth," Nathan said after a moment of consideration,
aware that Brooks was waiting for his answer in anticipation. The man knew that
Nathan was a doctor in training and that he knew something of criminal activity
being a lawman himself in
He
saw Brooks let out a visible sigh of relief at his agreement to help and a slow
smile stole across the man’s face. "I appreciate your help. This won’t
take long and you can get on your way." With that, he started leading
Nathan through the group of people towards the door again. Brook’s hand brushed
against the sleeve of Nathan’s shirt and the sheriff looked up at him.
"Good
lord, you’re soaked through!" Brooks exclaimed as they moved into the
shop.
"Yeah the rain got me on the way here," he frowned, feeling chill bit
into the skin at the mere reminder that he was soaking wet.
"One
of those days huh?" Brook said with a faint smile.
"Something
like that." Nathan replied and then they both fell silent when the door
closed behind them and they were left alone with the body of Thelma Rutledge
lying on the floor dead. Nathan allowed his gaze to sweep across the room;
unable to envision how a setting so benign could be the scene of so much
violence. A flower vase full of cuts flowers, tapestry fibre
purse of rose design, a pair of shoes, newly mended sitting against the floor.
These were things associated with someone going on with their life and enjoying
the little pleasures of it. Not someone, who ought to be lying dead on the
floor, covered with a sheet, lying nothing behind but the tragic circumstances
of their end.
He
looked at the door through which he had entered with the sheriff and saw no
signs of violence, no broken glass or torn wood. The metal was slightly
tarnished but the lock was very much in tact. He made
the same observation of the windows and could see faces peering at him through
the unbroken finished without a break or even crack to mar it. He glanced at
Brooks, who was aware that he was studying the place and allowed him the
moment.
"When
was the last time anyone saw her?" Nathan found himself asking.
"Well Mrs Tynan
brought a dress into her last evening about six." Brooks answered quietly.
He had his back turned to the corpse as if he was done looking at it.
"Says Thelma left the shop with her and locked up but when the body was
found this morning, the door was open. The door at the back is still locked so
I figured he got in somehow and left it unlocked when he was done."
Nathan
considered his words and said nothing before he dropped to his knees and raised
the blood soaked sheet that covered the young woman’s still form.
"Who
did find her?" Nathan asked as he stared into the face of a woman in her
early twenties with long gold hair, splayed around her hair, matted in places
by the blood that had drained from the large gash across her neck. Her lips
were blue with lifelessness and her skin seemed grey.
"Jenna
Wade." Brooks answered. "Sixteen years old," the sheriff said
grimly. "Came into pick up her new dress and found her like this. Poor
thing is half out of her mind from the shock."
Nathan
could not blame the unseen Jenna for behaving as she had. The sight of this
could shake the resolve and the constitution of the most hardened of men.
Thelma lay out stretched, her hands resting on her belly, folded one across the
other. They almost looked like she had been laid to rest at peace. Nathan
continued his observations, making sure there was no other injuries other than
the most obvious. Nathan noticed something that caught his eye immediately but
Brooks had not mentioned which meant he might not have understood or guessed.
"The
others were laid out like this?" Nathan asked, glancing at the man. There
was something very odd about this whole scenario. The way she had been laid to
rest and the pristine atmosphere of the room. It was like it was arranged so
that it would look as disarming as possible. Suddenly, he noticed that
everything was neat and tidy. No signs of dresses she might have been presently
working on or even the accroutments of her trade
lying about the sewing machine against the wall. Not even one roll of thread
could be seen.
"Sheriff,"
Nathan suddenly straightened up and found his mind ticking slowly as the pieces
of what he was seeing around him started to form a vague jigsaw. "The
other girls that were killed. Can I have a look at where they were found?"
Brooks
stared at him, not daring to hope that he had a reason for making the inquiry,
a reason that could well lead to an answer they were so desperately seeking to
make these murders stop. "Of course." Brooks said eagerly, not at all
about to deny that request. The reputation of the seven men who brought law and
order to
Right
now, they needed that kind of clarity.
As
Nathan followed Brooks out of the shop following the man’s instructions to his
deputy to move the body to the local mortuary but not to have the undertake
touch it until they returned, he asked himself what he was doing. He did not
have time for this. As it was, he was going to be hard pressed to make it to
Eagle Bend in time but somehow he could not pull himself away from this little
town. Maybe he was wrong. Perhaps he was chasing some wild theory that had no
basis in fact except in his mind but if he was right......
If
he was right then they could end this before another girl wound up dead.
There
was too much compassion in him to allow that to happen for the simple sake of
an exam. Alex knew people, perhaps she could square it with them for him to
take the exams again. Either way, it did not matter, he was going to help
because he was being Doctor Jackson was not as important as saving someone’s
life.
************
"The
Johnsons are staying at some friends," Brooks told Nathan as they walked
into the set of rooms above the hardware store that did not look unlike his
infirmary in
Nathan
walked through the home, trying not to think about the appointment he would be
missing. He looked through the window with its cheery curtains and saw the rain
still coming down outside, even though in light of what was happening at
Hadley’s Hope it did not seem to make much difference. There was a pall of grey
over the town that was more than just the weather. It meandered through the
streets and through the buildings made slick by water until it seemed to
saturate the entire town with its malaise of death.
Despite
his urge to leave for Eagle Bend, Nathan knew he had to see other place to
because he had to be sure of what he suspected. It was not Brook’s fault that
he could not see the details because this was his town and his home. He lived
with these people, grieved with them when their daughters were killed and felt
their loss as profoundly as he might feel his own child, were they slain in the
same brutal fashion. Being an outsider, he had the chance to see things clearly
and offer a fresh perspective.
"I
reckon she was found the same way?" Nathan asked, noting the pristine
nature of the home as well as the lack of bloodstains. Blood had a tendency to
seep into wood and leave an indelible impression behind that no one could ever
forget, no matter how much scrubbing was applied to remove it.
"Yeah,"
the sheriff nodded, walking to the space before the cooking stove and glancing
at the floor. No doubt, he was now revisited with the image he had seen when he
first walked into room and caught sight of Maryanne Foster lying dead.
"Lying in the same position, hands across each other. It almost looked
like she was sleeping."
"You
okay George?" Nathan said coming to the man.
"It’s
hard." Brooks met his gaze and Nathan did not doubt it one second that it
could be any other way. Nathan turned away a moment, resting on the leather
boots that sat up against the nearby wall. Shoes, the poor girl would never
wear again, he thought as he drifted towards it for no particular reason.
"How
does he find them?" Nathan mused. When Silas Poplar had selected his
victims, there had been a common denominator. He liked young, attractive women
who happened to be independent and had vocations of their own to sustain them.
Here there was no pattern at all. Thelma was young and attractive and she did
have a job as a seamstress but Maryanne Foster was not quite fifteen years old.
She was lovely young woman but their physical similarities according to Brooks,
were poles apart. Thelma had gold hair, Maryanne’s was dark. Yet, a gut
instinct told Nathan that there had to be a common denominator.
"I’m
interested in knowing how he gets to them." Brook replied walking away
from the fireplace and standing by the kitchen door, waiting for Nathan to
complete his investigations. "Maryanne wasn’t found until supper time. Her
ma had been in Eagle Bend and her pa had been working all day. He found her
here but there was no sound of any kind of disturbance, not even a scream. No
one downstairs even had the slightest idea that something was wrong. How can
that be?"
Nathan
had a pretty good idea. "George," he said after a moment. "I
don’t see no blood stains on the floor."
"Well
there weren’t much blood in the first place." Brooks explained
automatically. "There was some but not enough to bleed into the wood like
it can do with blood sometimes."
"You
said she was cut across the neck?" Nathan inquired again, having an answer
that explained everything.
"Yes,"
his brows furrowed as he saw Nathan’s line of questioning leading somewhere.
"What you getting at?" He asked suspiciously.
"When
you cut a jugular vein, there’s a lot of blood." Nathan replied.
"It’s a major artery, everything that goes through your body has to go
through that vein at some point. If she slashed her neck open, this place would
have covered in blood. She would have died quick but it would be into the wood
and no amount of scrubbing would make it gone. Believe me," the healer
said earnestly. "I’ve seen men shot in throat with bullets and have that
much bleeding, their clothes are covered with it before they even realised they were dying."
"There
was not much blood with Thelma either," Brooks pointed out realising the connection that the healer had made.
"Just a little like it was when we found Maryanne." Suddenly, it came
to him and his eyes widened. "Jesus Christ....."
"Yeah,"
Nathan nodded once he understood. "They weren’t killed here. They were
killed somewhere else."
"How
would he have gotten the body here?" Brooks demanded, defying Nathan to
answer this question because the possibility that they were not killed where
they had been found had not occurred to him.
"Easy
enough." Nathan responded. "Busy afternoon. People coming and going.
You’d be surprised how easy it to move something big without people really
paying attention. This here is a wood stove," he glanced at the iron cast
device before him, its embers cold and grey from disuse. "Could have been
someone bringing up wood, sack potatoes, anything really."
"And
the same thing with Thelma." The sheriff replied, following the healer’s
line of reasoning enough to make some speculations of his own. She could have
left work with Harriet Tynan on her own. He could
have been waiting until they split and then grabbed her. She would have her
keys on her so all he needed was to do the killing and then bringing the body
back to the sewing shop in the dead of night."
"That’s
how I see it." Nathan nodded in agreement, having reached that conclusion
far sooner than Brooks had taken to work it out in his head.
"Still
don’t explain how he picks them though." He said after a moment, staring
at Brooks briefly before they both left the confines of the Johnson home.
Nathan waited briefly for Brooks to lock the door behind him and wished
inwardly that Vin were here. The sharpshooter’s skill would have been most
useful at this point. Vin had the amazing ability to see tracks where none were
and make the most obscure marks in the ground tell him something.
"He
can’t just be waiting for them to appear." Nahtan
replied as he and Brook descended down the stairs into the street again. Both
men hasten their pace as the rain was still drizzling outside, although in
Nathan’s case, he was so wet that he hardly cared any more. However, it would
be wise if he got into some dry clothing before he caught pneumonia or
something equally debilitating.
"Well
we’ve told women to be on the look out," Brooks
explained as they ran for cover beneath the awning of the main boardwalk.
Nathan shook the excess water off his hat as he looked at Brooks and gestured
towards his horse at the direction he was taking. "Since the first
murders, no woman is out on her own at night. Most of them are indoors by dark
and if they do wander out, not to do it alone. Hell even the saloon girls are
skittish with all the warnings we’ve been making but still he finds them."
"Sheriff,"
Nathan tried to put this delicately since there was no real way to put this
without possibly offending the man and he did not wish to do that. "I know
this is a bitter pill to swallow but I gotta ask. I’m
assuming you’ve been looking for a man who is a stranger to these parts?"
"What
other sort would I be looking for?" Brooks turned to him sharply.
"I’ve run every drifter, vagrant and stranger I’ve seen in the last month
through a fine tooth. My deputies keep an eye on them real close when they are
in town enough to know that we’ve done all that we can do and it still ain’t
enough."
"I think you better start expanding your suspects," the lawman from
Four Corners replied. "You may be looking for someone in town, someone
that is known to you and the townsfolk."
"Christ,"
Brooks swore, wondering just how much worse this could get. "I was really
hoping it would not come to that."
Nathan
could sympathise with him. When Billy Travis had
returned to town, no one had ever suspected that Stephen Travis’ murderers
would surface once again. Until then, everyone had assumed that the brave and
forthright newspaperman had been killed in a robbery gone wrong. It was not
until an attempt was made on Billy’s life that the truth was uncovered and the
guilty men were found to be community leaders they had seen on a daily basis.
Men, who in every possible way, were upstanding members of the town with dark
secret. Nathan was certain that somewhere in the town of Hadley’s Hope, one
such man was viewing his neighbours in the same way a
lion may view the herd of zebra it was stalking.
"You
better start thinking about it George," Nathan replied. "He knows he
can get away with it so he won’t be stopping any time soon. He’s got a taste
for it now and he’s getting better at it."
"He’s
already killed three women," Brook said bitterly. "How much of a
blood lust could he possibly have? How many women does it take to satisfy that
urge?"
"I
don’t you can put a number to it." He answered, remembering Silas Poplar.
The Pinkerton detective had left a trail of bodies everywhere he went. Josiah
was certain there was murders before the trademark duo left in other towns.
Killers like these liked to hone their craft, to see how good at it they got.
Their mind was a razor edged maze of hurt, trapped in a cycle of abuse that ended
only until they died. "I think when it takes him, there ain’t no choice
but to feed it until gets to wherever it needs to get."
The sheriff allowed Nathan half an hour to clean up and get into some dry
clothes before the healer insisted on the lawman taking him to the rest of the
murder scenes. Even though the appointment to take his exams weighed heavily on
his mind, Nathan found he could not pry himself away from the plight of
Hadley’s Hope when it was all possible for him to help. The homes belonging to
the first two victims were no different from the Foster place or the sewing
shop where Thelma Rutledge had made her living. As Brooks explained it, the
victims had bee left the same way, with minimum flow of blood around the wounds
which should had done nothing but the opposite.
Nathan
scanned the rooms, trying to understand what it was that he was missing. He
knew that his visit had uncovered more than Brooks had first expected and yet
there was something nagging at the back of his mind that would not give him
peace. It sat at the edge of the periphery of conscious thought, taunting him
with its obscurity, confidence that he would persist in defining its mystery
even if it drove him mad.
There
were all the same, neat and tidy. The families who had dwelt in their walls had
departed for the time being because the horror of their discoveries had been
too much for their minds to cope with that the need to stay away was a
necessity to overcome their loss. Nathan could understand that, if he lost
someone the way these poor folks lost their daughter, wife, friend, he would be
just as traumatised by the horror of it all. He could
not blame them for staying away and felt a hint of guilt thinking that it was
best that they had because he was able to move about their empty homes and view
it as the killer had viewed the place before his departure.
They
were all the same. So orderly with everything in its rightful place as if there
as some insane ritual the killer demanded to satisfy the manner in which he
would present his victim to the public. It was like a gallery of death, almost
artistic in its methodology. The mind that did this was one who missed nothing,
who enjoyed the grisly work and believed that the arrangement was in some
twisted way an expression of his genius. Everywhere, he saw books in place,
empty cupboards and flowers in a vase, shoes against the wall and not a sign of
blood on the floorboards, a further indication that the murders had taken place
elsewhere.
That
question had plagued Nathan quite a bit as he made his observations with
Sheriff Brooks in attendance. The place where the murders were committed had to
be fairly close to town. Small communities like this made privacy impossible
because gossip was the main past time and people were always getting their
noses into other people’s business. A man like that had to be fairly sure of
himself to move around a town like this without raising suspicion, doing the
work he did. While Brooks was rather reluctant to admit the possibility, Nathan
was certain that the killer was indeed a long time resident of Hadley’s Hope,
perhaps even a man who was trusted and considered beyond reproach.
Maybe
even the sheriff.
He
shook the thought out of his head mostly because Brooks was too visible to
commit the crimes. It was one thing for one of the townsfolk to be seen at
either of the murder scenes but the sheriff was another thing entirely. A man
with a badge tended to stick out in the crowd and besides Nathan was not blind
to how badly Brooks felt about allowing such villainy to go on in his town. He
had the same look on his face that Chris Larabee wore
when one of the fellowship was hurt, even if he had no reason to blame himself
for the injury. The nature of the man made him believe that everyone was his
responsibility, whether or not it was necessary.
No,
whoever was perpetrating these crimes was someone who could move about
unnoticed. A man who was usually a nonentity in the eyes of everyone else,
completely normal and always the least suspect of violence. Following his
investigation of the homes and perfectly aware that he had missed his chance of
making it to the exams on time, there was nothing left to do but for send a
telegram to Judge Travis. No doubt, the Judge would pass it along to the powers
that be at the examination centre that he had been held up due to the storm.
Nathan had a reasonable hope of believing they would give him another chance
because delays in the Territory were a part of life.
"I’m
sorry you missed the exam." Brooks remarked after the two men had left the
telegraph office and headed towards the undertaker’s parlour
where Thelma Rutledge awaited Nathan’s expert eye.
"Its all right," Nathan said with a long sigh, unable
to deny that he felt disappointed but aware that given the same choice he would
have made the same decision. He wanted to be a doctor because he wanted to help
people and save lives. It made no difference if he did that under the title of
Doctor Jackson or just plain Nathan Jackson, either way, his efforts in
Hadley’s Hope might save some lives. "The weather’s been pretty bad, maybe
I can get them to let me take it tomorrow." He answered although he had a
feeling it would take some intervention by Alex and her father’s friends who
had arranged the accreditation in the first place.
Brooks
could not deny that as Nathan responded, even though he knew the healer was
feeling more than he was saying about his inability to make his appointment in
Eagle Bend. Brooks respected Nathan a great deal, more than just because he was
a lawman but also because he was a skilled healer that showed an unusual amount
of compassion towards his patience. Despite his need to find the murderer who
was running loose in his town, Brooks did wish that he had not delayed Nathan
from his journey. If any man should be a doctor, it was Nathan Jackson.
"Well
I appreciate you staying on a bit to help," Brooks said honestly.
"This has been a bad business Nathan," Brook remarked as the funeral parlour came into view. The wind was still lashing the town
with its gale and signs were flapping back and forth as they hung suspended
under awnings. The rain was just as fierce and both men had to hold their hats
down as they stood at the edge of the boardwalk, steeling themselves to run out
into the open.
Nathan
did not answer as they both ran across the muddied street, allowing the wind to
rush past their ears and feeling the wet against their skin as the water
started seeping through the clothes. Fortunately, they made it across before
the cold reached the skin beneath and both men shook themselves off upon
reaching shelter, like big dogs coming in from the rain. Nathan repeated the
same procedure on his hat before regarding Brook’s comment.
"When
we had the same trouble at Four Corners," Nathan explained. "It was
like a having a kind of enemy that worse than a hundred outlaws coming at you
with guns. At least you knew who to shoot at and that showed you how to protect
your own. With Poplar around, we had no idea what we were dealing with because
he told us so many lies just so that he could get closer to the women he was
after. I hate to think what would have happened if Josiah hadn’t learned the
truth." The healer said shuddering inwardly and it was not just because of
the cold. "We would have lost Mary for sure."
"That
would have been a loss," Brooks agreed, having met the lovely Mrs Travis...no he corrected himself, Mrs
Larabee, during his occasional visits to Four Corners
or when the woman stopped here on her trips to Eagle Bend to visit her kin folk
there. "When’s the baby due?" He asked, moving to a lighter note
briefly.
After
all, there would be nothing of the sort when they entered the funeral parlour.
"Late
winter, early spring." Nathan replied, happy to talk about something else
for a moment. It gave the mind a chance to correlate the information already
gathered and perhaps offer a fresh perspective when he gave the matter more
thought once again.
"Larabee’s a lucky man." Brooks answered with a faint
smile. He was a married man himself with two young daughters and knew how a
family could bring peace to even the most troubled soul. While Chris Larabee was still an ornery cuss, there was a softer edge
to him then there had been before and everyone who knew the man could see it.
"What about Tanner? I heard that he was getting married?"
Nathan
chuckled softly, aware of how Vin felt on that subject. "I figure he’ll
get around to it eventually. Man’s terrified of anything that would get him out
of that hide coat of his and into a new suit but Miss Alex is patient
though," he smiled. "She’ll get him, sooner or later."
"I’m
pleased to see that his name got cleared." Brooks admitted, aware of the
price on Tanner’s head ever since the seven had first started their tenure in
Four Corners. However, Brooks was of the belief that rumour
did not offer the true insight into man’s soul and he formed his opinion of Vin
Tanner on his own, without making any pre conceived notions of what a wanted
poster might claim.
"We
all were." Nathan agreed and started to tell Brooks something of the
events that took place at Tascosa as Brooks opened
the door of the funeral parlour and allowed him to
enter the sombre surroundings first.
The
first thing that caught his attention was the stink of formaldehyde and the
other preserving agents used to prepare a body for its final journey in this
plane of existence. The stench always made his skin crawl and Nathan wondered
why these places felt ice cold, even in the worst days of summer heat. He
supposed the cold was a state of mind rather than something real even though
the chill in his bones was as near to reality as he ever wanted to get. It did
not help that several of the establishment’s wares were laid out on the main
display floor, as if anyone would ever shop for these things. Nathan was
certain that the undertaken in Four Corners had all of the seven measured for
coffins from the day they had agreed to take on the protection of the town.
The
undertaker had placed Thelma Rutledge in the backroom where he prepared the
bodies for burial. The man had taken the liberty of undressing her and leaving
covered under a sheet with only her bare feet visible when Nathan and Brooks
had walked into the room. Her clothes had been placed in a small box on a work
bench against the table so that the investigators could peruse them for any
evidence that might lead to an arrest. Nathan had a feeling that the undertaken
had been practised with this ritual after the
previous three deaths and hoped that he could find something that would allow
him to abandon the grim task.
Pulling
aside the sheet below her neck, Nathan began his examination of the body while
Brooks stood by and watched. Nathan had the impression the man did not want to
be present but was bound by duty to remain. He would have told the sheriff it
was alright if he wanted to go but Nathan had a feeling that Brooks would not
shirk his duty no matter how distasteful it might be to him personally. The
healer said nothing as he examined the wound across the young woman’s neck,
noting the gash across her throat that had ended in one clean swipe everything
that she would ever be in this life.
"Very
clean." Nathan declared studying the wound. "Whatever he used to cut
her up ain’t no regular knife." He observed. "I’d say it was a
doctor’s scalpel but it ain’t quite that fine. The cut is deep and slice
through the jugular with no problem at all. It only took one swipe." He
paused a moment and turned to face Brooks. "By the looks of it, he got
them from behind. Probably armlocked up around the
head and just pulled the blade across."
"At
least it was quick." Brook muttered, knowing that it was not much
consolation but at least Thelma’s family would know that she had not endured
any lengthy ordeal at the hands of her killer.
"Very
quick," Nathan assured him. "It takes practise
to do something like this. There’s not even a pause, just a very slash that
probably did not even give time for the victims to understand what happened
until it was all over. I’d say that the man we’re looking for does this for a
living. He could be a butcher, a tailor, maybe even a doctor but that’s
stretching a little. The murder weapon was sharp but also very strong. The
blade sank in deep almost to the bones of a neck."
"Jesus."
Brook swore under his breath. "Are you sure about this Nathan?" He
asked, hoping the healer was wrong but knew inwardly that Nathan would not cast
aspersion on anyone unless he had a very good reason. "We’ve got only one
butcher in town and Thelma was the only seamstress in town and we haven’t been
with a doctor since Doctor Bairstow left with his
wife and daughter when we found the second victim."
"I
can’t be sure about anything," Nathan replied honestly. "I’m telling
you what I think but I can’t guarantee that I’m exactly right."
"I
understand," the sheriff nodded, realising that
Nathan’s opinion was speculation on his observations, not the truth.
Nonetheless Brooks was impressed by what Nathan had been able to tell him so
far about their killer. At least, he had somewhere to concentrate his search on
now. From what Nathan was trying to explain, Brooks gathered their man was
skilled with an expertise that required fine and delicate work, yet physical
laborious as well because no one cut a neck so deeply that it almost bordered on
decapitation unless they had the physical strength for it. "Go on."
"Well
she wasn’t sexually assaulted," Nathan replied after examining the rest of
the young woman’s body. He felt invasive making such a private search of the
lady’s person in death but knew it was vital for their investigation that he
uncovered as much facts as he could. "I don’t see any of the usual signs
so I’m guessing he killed her and then cleaned the body. Other than the neck
after the initial bleeding had been allowed to run its course, there ain’t no
blood anywhere else."
"That’s
sick." Brook retorted. Why did the man take such care with the bodies
after he performed the ultimate feat of savagery that any human being could
perpetrate upon another? He placed them in their homes with what was almost
affectionate care.
"Well
I think it’s the ritual after the killing that does it for him." Nathan
offered as a possible scenario. "I think they have to be dead first before
he can do what he wants."
Nathan
continued with the examination, trying to find something that would help them
further but eventually the partial autopsy had come to an end with nothing left
but some insight into how the killer had claimed its victims but not much else.
Nathan wished he could do more but Thelma Rutledge could tell him no more and
as he pulled the sheet over her face for the last time, he could help feeling
this underlying sense of failure.
"I’m
sorry George," Nathan sighed, unable to hide the fact that he had been
bothered by his inability to bring more to light about how Thelma had met her
end. "I hoped I could be of some help to you."
Sheriff
Brooks came along side Nathan and patted him on the back in a gesture of
thanks. "I appreciate what you done already Nathan," he said
genuinely grateful. "You didn’t have to do this but you did because we
needed you and that’s good enough for me."
"You
know," the healer turned away from the corpse and went to the box where
Thelma’s clothes and belonging were gathered. He began rifling through them
distractedly, not paying attention to them really as he continued to speak.
"I have this gut instinct that if we worked out how he picks them, we’d
crack this thing."
"I
don’t know," Brooks shook his head unable to see the pattern and
understanding Nathan’s conundrum. Since the murders had began, he had read
something of the few documented cases of killings like these and he had to
admit, Nathan was right about there being some common denominator that would
link all these women together. Their killer must have a reason for selecting
the women as he had although at the moment, Brooks could not imagine what might
be. They were all of different physical characteristics, social and economic
backgrounds, the first was married, the last two were not. He had to admit they
were all attractive but it had to be about more than just that, surely?
Nathan
continued to examine the dress that Thelma had been wearing and found a wave of
sadness wash over him as he found that he could still smell the lingering scent
of lavender perfume coming from the material. He liked the sweet fragrance and
wondered if it clung to her skin. He knew that when Rain wore some of that
lilac perfume she liked so much, he could smell it all day in his lungs and
when he kissed her, he could feel its misty aroma on her flawless skin.
Thinking of Rain made him grateful that she was in Four Corners, safe from such
madness that was currently doing its worst in the town of Hadley’s Hope.
Suddenly,
he saw a black smudge on the fabric of her dress. For a minute he thought it might
be grease or dirt but as he lifted it closer to his eye and examined it, he
found that it was neither. Nathan ran his finger over smear of dark that rested
just above the waistline as if she had been standing against something that had
this substance on it. He could understand why the sheriff had missed this since
Thelma’s dress was not a light colour and the only
reason Nathan had noticed it at all was because he had been searching for some
clue in her clothes.
"George,"
Nathan raised the gown out of its box and presented the smudged area to the
sheriff. "What do you make of this?"
Brooks
leaned closer to the stain for a closer look before allowing his fingers to
make the same exploration that Nathan had done earlier. The substance was not
slick and viscous like grease would be, not did it set the same way. Instead it
was light against the skin, almost grainy but still possessing a waxy
consistency that made it smooth when rubbed against the finger tips. "It
ain’t oil or grease." He remarked. "If I didn’t know better, I’d say
shoe polish."
"Shoe
polish?" Nathan looked up and suddenly his mind began whirling. For a
moment, he was uncertain of what he had stumbled upon, aware only of the
nagging that had been sitting on the edge of his consciousness all days,
suddenly becoming clear in his minds as the fog around it began to dissipate.
Shoe polish. What had he seen that made shoe polish react him so? He knew he
had the answer, it sat on the tip of his tongue, taunting at him in shrieks of
exasperation until finally it exploded in his mind like a rainbow of colour.
"Boots!"
Nathan exclaimed, immediately dropping the dress back into its box and running
for the door. "Come on!"
***********
Nathan
ran out of the funeral parlour, hardly thinking about
the rain that was going to saturate him with water the moment he emerged into
the open. Splattering across the puddles of water and mud on the soaked ground,
he made his way towards the sewing shop that had been the source of livelihood
for Thelma Rutledge before her premature death. Behind him, Brooks followed
unable to see what had made the healer so excited but was not about to argue
with him since Nathan had been so far quite helpful to his investigations so
far by offering insights he had never considered previously.
It
did not take Nathan very long to reach the shop and when he stepped onto the
boardwalk, he hardly noticed the rain on his clothes that was quickly seeping
into his skin. Without pausing to shake the water off, he entered the shop that
had been the scene of the latest murder and immediately scanned the front room
for what he was certain was the vital clue that they had been searching for all
this time. Brooks came in after him, a little out of breath but nonetheless
confused.
"What
the hell are you doing?" Brooks asked, taking a moment to catch his breath
after the sudden exertion. "What do you mean boots?"
Nathan
was already picking up the pair of ladies boots he had seen sitting against the
wall, placed neatly like everything else thanks to the killer’s ministrations.
Flipping them over in his hands so that he could examine the soles of the
shoes, Brooks watched Nathan holding them under deep scrutiny before coming to
rest on the newly replaced heel. The repair was easy see since the new leather
was in stark contrast to the old. When Nathan made this observation, Brooks saw
him release a breath almost in satisfaction of his discovery.
Whatever
that might be.
"Boots."
He said after a moment. "That’s how he find them."
"Boots?"
Brooks stared at Nathan wanting him to explain because the healer had just
slashed the list of suspects from a handful to significantly less than that.
"Yeah
boots," Nathan said putting down the shoes and making his way towards the
door. "Come on," he motioned the sheriff to follow him. "I’ll
explain on the way." He called out and Brooks took a deep breath before
hurrying after the healer.
They
were walking down the boardwalk when Nathan started to explain what had led him
to the conclusion he had just formed. "From the beginning, we couldn’t
understand how they were getting taken. After all, you’ve been smart enough to
let the ladies in this town know that there’s a killer on the loose and that it
ain’t safe to be wandering around alone. I couldn’t figure why they would just
go with some stranger to be cut up the way they have been."
"But
you said that the chances are, this ain’t no stranger." Brooks pointed
out, reminding Nathan what he had said earlier about their killer.
"That’s
right," Nathan agreed, not about to dispute that fact since it held no
relevance at the moment. "However, a woman just doesn’t follow a man that
she knows somewhere private unless there’s a very good reason for it and I’m
assuming that these ladies don’t seem to be the type that would do that, married
or unmarried, young or old."
"That’s
right," Brooks nodded. "It ain’t proper for a fifteen year old girl
to just go off with a man unless she knew him pretty well and trusted
him."
"Exactly,"
he smiled as they took the familiar path towards Maryanne Foster’s home.
"What if she needed to go see him?"
"Needed
to go see him…." Brooks looked at Nathan when suddenly the answer clicked
into place and the understanding that Nathan was trying to impart on him
flooded his mind with knowledge. "Jesus, she needed to go see him to get
her boots repaired."
"That’s
how he finds them." Nathan smiled triumphantly. "I was looking around
Maryanne’s place and the other two and I noticed one thing that didn’t make
sense at the time but I didn’t think much of it cause it was so insignificant.
There were pairs of shoes neat against the wall in all three instances. He puts
them back after he’s done with the women. Chances are if he has store or
something, that’s where the murders were committed."
"They
go to get their shoes repaired." The sheriff was breathing hard, as if the
truth that had been relayed to him was more than he could stand because his
heart was pounding in his chest and he did not dare believe it could be true,
that the answer was at their finger tips. "And he kills them in the shop
and then places them and the shoes in the house."
"I’d
say, they dropped the shoes off first to be repaired and the killing took place
when the ladies came back to get them. I wouldn’t be surprised if Thelma
Rutledge made a stop to get her boots back after she and Mrs
Tynan went their separate ways." The healer
offered an alternative scenario instead.
"And
if Maryanne Foster was to do the same, she’d call in at the place on her way
back from school." Brooks replied.
"You’ll
need to check with the other one." Nathan responded, certain that they
were right about what they had learnt in the last hour.
"Right,"
Brooks nodded in agreement, having made the decision to do that once Nathan had
his confirmation at the Foster place. In the meantime, he was going to steer
the healer past his jailhouse so that he could give some instructions to his
deputies.
"So,"
Nathan looked at the sheriff and asked the question that had been lingering on
his mind following the discovery of the shoe polish that unlocked the truth
about the murders. "How many boot maker do you have in this town?"
The
sheriff smiled faintly. "Only one." He answered. "He lives alone
and has a store on the far side of town. His name is Leyland Banks."
*********
The
rain had started to abate by the time Nathan and Sheriff Brooks found
themselves staring at the building where Leyland Banks conducted his trade a
boot maker and as a tanner of leather. After going to the Foster home and
discovering that the shoes he had spied there earlier had been under the recent
administrations of a boot maker, they had repeated the same search at the home
of the first victim and found the same thing. Upon that discovery, neither man
had any reason to doubt that the hypothesis they had formed about how the
killer had found his victims was nothing but the truth. Although, there would
always be doubt until they found conclusive evidence such as a murder weapon
for instance, Brooks now had a face against which he could guard the rest of
the community.
While
it was just as easy for Nathan to make his departure following this new
development, he found that he wanted to remain to see how this situation played
out. A part of him could not believe that a short stay could yield so much and
yet he still could not help feeling disappointed at having missed the exams he
had spent so much time in preparation. However, the healer in Nathan could not
walk away for that very reason. Even if it meant losing the chance of being a
doctor, Nathan was not about to stop saving lives. Perhaps he would be doing it
in a different manner than what he had previously thought but nonetheless, he
would be content to know that there would be no fourth victim.
As
he and Brooks arrived at Leyland’s store after interviewing the family of the
first victim and examining the shoes that more or less confirmed everything
they had deducted up to this point, the deputies were keeping Mr Bank in their
sights. They had been watching Mr Leyland ever since Nathan’s revelation had
finally given them the suspect they had been waiting to find from the onset of
the first murder.
"Is
he in there?" Brooks asked his head deputy upon reaching the man.
Faulkner
was as almost as experienced a lawman as Brooks and he had been watching the
store by idling his time inside the general store whose shop window faced the
front of Banks’ premises.
"Yeah,"
Faulkner nodded. "Had a couple of people go in there over the last hour
but they’ve been and gone."
"Good,"
Brooks nodded, having no wish to worry about anyone when he and Nathan finally
confronted the man. "Have you got the others in place?"
"They’ve
sealed off the area." Faulkner replied tautly and was just as passionate
about bring this man to justice as the rest of his comrades. The terror the
town had endured because of these murders had touched the core of the community
and like Brooks, Faulkner wanted it over and done with. "If he’s our man,
he ain’t getting past any one of us."
"Hold
position," Brooks said quietly aware that the eyes of shoppers in the
store were watching the trio, suspecting that something was happening if not
what. They cast their furtive gazes at the direction of the sheriff and his
companions, trying not to listen in but felt compelled to do so because there
could only be one reason Brooks was so worked up. "Nathan and I are going
in to have a little talk to Mr Brooks. If we can, we’re going to bring him in
peacefully." Despite his personal feelings towards the murderer that had
been terrorising his town, Brooks had no intention of
letting the search for justice, become a quest for vengeance. If all possible,
they were going to do this by the book.
Still
he was not about to forget the young women whose lives Banks might have possibly
taken. The sheriff was not unmindful of the fact that the entire wealth of
evidence against the town’s boot maker was fixed solely on Nathan’s theory and
liked the healer, wanted something more substantial before deciding that the
man was entirely guilty.
"However," Brooks added, remembering the three young women who lives
had savagely curtailed. "If he makes a run for it, shoot him."
Faulkner
tipped his hat forward and nodded. "You got that for sure." The
deputy felt no hesitation about pulling the trigger if Banks ran like the
guilty coward he was.
"All
right," Brooks took a deep breath and looked at Nathan. "Let’s do
this."
"It’s
your show Sheriff." Nathan replied, having no real authority to do
anything in Hadley’s Hope and was accompanying Brooks as moral support but also
to see if he was right about what he claimed. The coat he was wearing hid the
assortment of knives he carried into battle because if things got tense, he
might need their assistance.
Brooks
met his gaze briefly before the sheriff took the lead and walked out of the
general store, aware that eyes had followed his departure and that of the
visiting healer. Nathan could see the line of tension on his jaw as they
crossed the wet street, toward the boot maker shop owned by Mr Banks. As they
made their advance, Brooks explained that part of the reason that it was easy
for him to accept that Banks might be their killer was because the building in
which he conducted his business was wholly owned by him. Banks not only ran his
store from there but also lived in the building and the situation of the
structure had it some distance away from the rest of the main street.
If
Banks was their killer, his home provided the ideal setting for his grisly
work.
As
they approached the front door, Nathan could see Banks behind his workbench,
working on the heel belonging to a pair of men’s boots. He was pulling away the
damaged heel and preparing to replace it with the new one that was sitting in
front of him on the bench. Banks was not a physically imposing man. If
anything, he looked thin and somewhat unhealthy. His eyes, which were of a
watery, blue colour immediately locked on to them as
they reached the door.
Nathan
allowed Brooks entry first and as the Sheriff walked into the store, Banks
wiped a strand of dark hair out of his face and forgot what he was doing,
straightening up to face the new arrivals. Nathan’s eyes were immediately
moving across the room, searching for some clue that might give irrefutable
proof of the man’s guilt. He could see the boot polish on the table and the
tools the man used on the workbench. The knives he used were made for cutting
through leather and yet flexible enough to shape the tough material for use.
Aside form boots; Banks worked all kinds of leather
goods such as saddlebags and even saddles that needed repairing. The room stunk
of saddle oil and the floor did not reveal any bloodstains although it was
difficult to tell because the floor was so grimy. However, Nathan did notice a
small lift up door at the corner of the room.
"Sheriff."
Banks said nervously, "what can I do for you?"
Brooks paused in front of the workbench and offered the man a smile before
answering. "I’m sorry to bother you Leyland but I got a couple of
questions."
"Questions?"
The man asked, betraying nothing even though he had noticed Nathan glancing at
the little door.
"Yeah
questions," Brooks answered and then glanced at Nathan. "This here is
Doctor Nathan Jackson, he’s come into town to help us with the murders."
"Shit,"
Banks retorted. "There ain’t no nigger doctors, Sheriff." He gave
Nathan a perfectly derisive look. "I think this nigger is pulling
something on you."
Brooks
clenched his jaw, unprepared to let things get out of hand and saw that Nathan
was unperturbed by the insult although the healer was a little curious as to
why Brooks had referred to him as a doctor. The way things were going, that was
not going to happen for quite some time.
"Doctor
Jackson is a real physician," Brooks continued his questioning, although
there was a hard edge to his voice now. "However, what I want to know is
whether or not Thelma Rutledge was in here last night."
"Thelma
Rutledge?" Banks was already shaking his head, watching Nathan like a hawk
especially when the healer started walking casually towards the small door.
"Yeah,"
Brooks repeated himself. "She was killed last night. I wanted to know if
you might have seen her."
"No,"
he said starting to get a little anxious the nearer Nathan came to that small
door. "Hey nigger, don’t you be wandering around now. If I find anything
missing, I’m gonna take it out of your hide."
"Answer
the question Leyland." Brooks demanded, disliking how the man was treating
Nathan intensely. "Forget about the door, you got bigger problems."
"Like
what!" Banks growled. "You ain’t got a shred of proof she was
here!"
Nathan
dropped to his knees and pulled open the little door. Banks just about leapt
over the work bench to reach him but Brooks reached for his gun before the man
could even land on the floor boards to take the step forward to reach the
healer. "I wouldn’t Leyland," Brooks warned with ice in his voice.
"I’m looking for a reason to kill you, don’t give me one."
"You
ain’t got no right!" He shouted was he saw Nathan open Pandora’s Box.
"If
you killed those girls, you ain’t got no right!" The sheriff barked and
then turned to Nathan. "Go ahead!"
Nathan
offered the lawmen a slight not and peered into the small compartment and was
unsurprised by anything he had found. Wrapped neatly in a bundle of leather was
a tanning knife and while it had been washed, there were still tell tale signs
of blood having seeped permanently into the wooden handle. There was also a
pendant that would later be identified as belonging to Thelma Rutledge and a
score of other souvenirs that Leyland Banks had collected from his
victims.
Further
investigation would reveal the remains of a burnt drop cloth in the man’s
furnace which he had used to clean the blood of Thelma Rutledge the night
before he had murdered when she had come to claim her shoes. No doubt, he had
disposed of others like it when he had lured his victims to his shop in order
to collect their repaired footwear. Always presenting the helpful facade, Banks
would wait until they were preparing to leave before he would grab them from
behind as Nathan had suspected and slit their throats. He would then clean the
bodies and return them home; sometimes changing their clothes if what they wore
were too soiled before destroying that which was.
Eventually
however, the most damning evidence would come from Bank’s himself, when the
weight of everything they had found dragged the confession out of him and
brought an end to the his reign of terror in Hadley’s Hope.
**********
Nathan
arrived at the home of Orin Travis later that evening.
Despite
having missed the examination that should have been one of the most important
events of his life, the healer felt strangely satisfied that he had done the
right thing by stopping at Hadley’s Hope and aiding Sheriff Brooks. Before he
left, Brooks had made him promise to come back to the town once things had
settled down and to bring Rain with him. According to the sheriff, he deserved
supper at least for what he had done to bring Leyland Banks to justice.
However, as he neared the Judge’s home, Nathan started to feel a little
disappointed at having missed the examinations not to mention arriving late at
the Judge’s home when the man had been so good as to offer him a bed at night
and supper.
"Well
Mr Jackson," Orin Travis said after they were settled in front of the
fireplace on two comfortable wing chairs warming themselves with the heat. With
a hot cup of coffee in his hands, Nathan suddenly felt the day catch up on him
and wished for nothing more than a warm bed so that he could prepare himself
for the ride home tomorrow.
"It
looks like you made this trip for nothing." The judge looked at him.
"I
wouldn’t say that," Nathan admitted. "The folks in Hadley’s Hope
needed help. I was glad I was able to do something for them. That has to counts
for something."
"Indeed
it does," the judge agreed readily. Orin liked Nathan Jackson and admired
his ability to learn despite the lack of a formal education. He had seen Nathan
perform miracles with his hands that most surgeons could not dream of achieving
even after a lifetime of practice. Like the rest of the seven, Orin trusted
Nathan explicitly but there was also a hint of admiration in the old man for
the former slave that was exclusive only to him. "Sheriff Brooks sent me a
telegram shortly after you left for Eagle Bend."
"Oh?"
Nathan lowered the cup of coffee he was about to take a sip form and looked at
the judge. "What did he say? Was there some trouble with Banks?"
"No,
not at all." Orin quickly assuaged that fear. "He merely informed me
of how invaluable you were to his investigation and wanted me to express his
personal thanks to the doctors at the examination centre for allowing you the
time to aid him in capturing a dangerous criminal. A task of course I was happy
to do and surprisingly enough those doctors, some of whom I happen to know
well, asked me to relay to you a message. That is when you feel able, they
would like to see you one week from today at the centre to take your
accreditation exams."
Nathan’s
jaw dropped open as he stared at Orin in surprise. "Judge, I don’t know
what to say...." For once the healer was at a loss for words.
"Just
say that you won’t start charging me for medical attention when you become a
physician." Orin Travis grinned and then added with genuine hope for the
younger man’s future. "Doctor Jackson."