Monsters of London
Hundreds of people have descended on London for the numerous celebrations marking Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee.
The Devil’s Hopyard Pub on the Thames Riverbank, in normal times a popular establishment, is packed with regulars and new visitors alike.
Guests cluster around the center bar, three bar tenders pour drinks, groups of people gather at dozens of tables throughout; a pianist plays Pictures At An Exhibition. Gas lamps hang down from the high beamed ceiling, there are numerous stained glass windows depicting scenes from the pub’s three hundred and fifty year history.
Tabitha McGuinness Collins helps run the pub, “We’ve been so busy tonight. I’ve hardly had time to think.” Tabitha is used to lively evenings, having grown up here when her parents ran it, “Please tell me how I can help you.” A lovely young lady with yellow blonde hair, high cheekbones and full lips.
Emmeline Sumner-Jones is a comely brunette, “It’s been almost twenty years since my mother…died.”
The murder of Priscilla Stevens was infamous, articles on it sold out newspapers and magazines: a charming woman, strangled with pink lace in her own bed, locks of her hair cut off.
“I was five then. However, from things I’ve heard of him, I never thought Julien Howe killed her. He was simple.” Julien Howe tended to the horses, “Blanche McWalters’ murder several weeks ago has me thinking.” Julien Howe was hung. The case all but forgotten now, “She was found in her bed, pink lace around her throat, locks of her hair cut off.” The police are baffled.
Arthur Sumner-Jones is a bespectacled ordinary looking man, “We wondered if your husband could look into the case again. We have some money.”
“You don’t have to pay Damien. Since school has ended for the summer, he’s been quite bored with himself. He needs to be occupied.”
Emmeline and Arthur just moved back to London from Liverpool, the former asks, “Will he be here tonight?”
Tabitha briefly glances towards the pianist, “He is almost finished at the piano.”
Emmeline and Arthur are surprised; from Damien Collin’s reputation they expected someone much older, at least with facial hair.
Tabitha assures them, “Don’t let his good looks fool you, Damien is brilliant.”
Emmeline inquires, “How is your tearoom?”
“A great success.” Tabitha has a tearoom at The Blackstone Restaurant on Piccadilly, “You and Arthur must stop by.”
“We will.”
Tabitha’s face brightens upon seeing a distinguished looking man enter, “Excuse me for one moment.” Making her way around tables.
Miles Long embraces Tabitha, “You look especially radiant tonight.”
Tabitha tilts her head in acknowledgement, “How is Letitia?” she hasn’t seen Miles in over one month.
“Very well, Guernsey was lovely. She sends you and Damien her deepest love.” His tone becoming serious, “I need to talk to him.” Miles is Detective Chief Inspector of the Metropolitan Police.
Tabitha looks around, “Come with me.” Leading him to a small two seat table in the back corner, “Can I get you something?”
“Indian Tea would be nice. Also, your delicious fish and chips.”
“Coming right up.”
When the last piano note is struck, Damien takes a bow to loud applause and cheers.
Miles eyes follow Damien as he takes a seat across from him, “Congratulations on finishing top in your class.”
“You knew I would.” Damien is studying medicine at King’s College, “What brings you here tonight?”
Miles clasps his hands together, speaking softly, “Two weeks ago a body was discovered in a shipping crate, naked, headless.”
“Male or female?”
“Female.”
“Any scars, moles, missing fingers?”
Miles says with great delicacy, “A mole on her private area.”
Damien smirks, always amazed at Miles’ delicate sensibilities, “You mean her pubic area.”
Miles makes a face looking around, “You know I did.” No need saying it out loud.
“Right, left or center?”
Miles thinks, “Right side.” adding with a chill in his voice, ‘The body was drained of blood.”
“Someone didn’t want the body identified. Who dropped it off?”
“It was just there the morning of the seventh. A porter noticed the crate, called the baggage master who had it opened.”
“Last meal?”
“Tea, lemon pound cake and laudanum, close to the time of death.”
Damien is intrigued, “Any missing persons reports?”
“Dozens. Men, women, children.” Miles shakes his head, “No one her age, late teens, early twenties with a mole there. We’re at a loss. The boys don’t think you can do it. They think the last time was just a fluke, from a young man with an excellent memory.”
Damien arches his spine, “Is that meant as a challenge?” famously solving a difficult case last year, “A naked, headless body. What am I supposed to do with that?” flashing a smile, “I accept your challenge.”
Tabitha returns holding two cups, “Indian tea for you, Miles. Coffee for you, Darling. Fish and chips will be here soon.”
The two thank her. Damien telling Miles, “Tabitha and I are visiting Joe tonight.”
“How is your cousin?”
“Bored out of his mind. He really needs a holiday.”
Tabitha places her hand on Damien’s shoulder, “I have some friends who need your help.”
Damien excuses himself saying, “Don’t eat all the chips.”
Tabitha leans closer to Damien, “Those pretty hazel brown eyes, such sparkle about them tonight.”
“Having you near me.” Damien squeezes her hand, the two sharing an adoring look.
“My parents bought us a cradle.” Tabitha is six weeks pregnant.
“Joe has a gift for you, won’t tell me what it is.”
At the table introductions are made. Damien takes a seat, “What can I do for you?”
Emmeline hardly knows where to begin, her eyes shifting to Arthur for encouragement.
“Just come out with it.” Damien says, “I’m not squeamish.”
“My mother was Priscilla Stevens, she died twenty years ago.” Her father couldn’t cope, sending Emmeline to live with her grandparents in London.
“I know the case. Your father is Lord Chief Justice Sir Jonathan Stevens, on the Queen’s Privy Council.”
Emmeline nods her head, “Recently there was another death, quite similar, Blanche McWalters. I always thought they hung an innocent man. A young detective wanting to make a name for himself, not caring about my mother.”
“There was also a similar murder in Philadelphia eleven years ago. One in Paris nine years ago.” Damien rattles on, “Always pink lace, locks of hair cut off, rumors of lurid affairs. Fascinating really. Love cons are the oldest in the book, going back to Greek Myth.”
Tabitha touches Damien’s hand, otherwise he would simply go on, “Can you help them?”
Damien sees the hope in Emmeline’s eyes.
Emmeline tells him, “It won’t bring my mother back, but at least we’ll know the truth.” That’s all she wants.
“I’ll give it a go. Whoever did this is quite clever, and I may not be as clever.”
At the table, Miles dips chips into a small dish of cheese sauce, “What was the about?”
Damien takes a chip from a basket, “Priscilla Stevens.” Dipping it into a small dish of tomato ketchup.
“I remember the case. Cornelius Standish supposedly solved it, heaped with praise. A big blowhard as far as I’m concerned. I never thought Julien Howe did it.”
Damien lifts the coffee cup with his free hand, “Didn’t Cornelius Standish blow his brains out a few years back?”
“Alcohol, gambling, women. In the end, he gave us all a bad name.”
ii
“Samantha Bartlett.” Miles repeats; he and Damien taking a carriage ride to Eton Square in Belgravia.
“Samantha’s ex-fiance is American, Mr. Harrison Porter, rich, handsome, heir to the P&W oil fortune. He’s staying with his sister Lady Georgia, Countess Mayfair.”
“How did you come up with Samantha Bartlett?” a name well known to him and most everyone else.
Samantha Bartlett is the inspiration for one of the most famous story book characters; also, a sought after model.
“Last night Joe and I were discussing what to get our little cousin, Ernie, for his birthday. Our Nana mentioned how much he loves adventure books. His favorite being Explorer Sam and Uncle Benedict.”
“Yes, I used to read them to my children as well, exciting tales.” A generation growing up on them.
Damien lifts his hands, “Then the voices in my head began speaking.”
“The voices are back.”
“I’ve missed them, like old friends who went away.” Shrugging his shoulders, “Joe had a friend a few years back, a magician named Rufus the Magnificent. A talented man who loved the children. He could read the future. Sadly, Rufus loved drinking, too. Well, one evening he was particularly upset. It seemed one of the carnival hands had showed him photographs that he was trying to sell.”
Miles is afraid to ask, “What kind of photographs?”
“Rufus wouldn’t elaborate, we didn’t ask. He talked about Uncle Benedict, said he was a bad man who abused children. Then I remembered something else. Samantha Bartlett posed for a famous painting by Andre Le Fleur. Samantha has a mole.”
“Good God.”
“Two weeks ago, Samantha Bartlett broke off her engagement with Harrison Porter, leaving town.”
Eton Square is the largest garden square in Belgravia, the white homes have five stories, porticoed terraces and long bay windows.
Harrison Porter walks down a long staircase, “I’m on my way out, gentlemen.” seeing no reason for a visit from the police.
Miles begins, “We have questions concerning your ex-fiance, Miss Samantha Bartlett.”
The foyer is white, a gold chandelier hanging down from the ceiling; the air is filled with the scent of roses from a white vase on a round table.
Harrison snaps, “What about her?” the letter, the broken engagement were great public humiliations.
“Have you heard from her?”
Harrison response is quick, “No, why should I?”
Damien asks the question everyone wants to know, “Why did she break your engagement?” there is much speculation over it.
Harrison does not answer right away, “She claimed to be in love with someone else, gave no name. Good luck to him. Samantha had her moods.” Walking towards the door.
Damien speaks loudly, “I believe Samantha is dead.” Waiting for Harrison’s reaction.
Harrison turns slowly around, “I don’t believe that.” his mind having trouble registering the statement, “Who’d want to harm Samantha?”
“She had a child with Andre Le Fleur.”
Harrison tone is angry, “How do you know that?”
Damien smirks, “I know a lot of things. Right now, I want to know who killed Samantha Bartlett and I don’t.”
Harrison’s voice softens, “Andre Le Fleur sent Samantha heart-felt letters for a while. She wanted nothing to do with him.”
“What was her relationship with Benedict Mercier like?”
“She rarely spoke about him.” He died before Harrison met Samantha, “When she did, it was not with any fondness. Samantha said they became like an old married couple, always bickering.”
“Did your family like her?”
“Yes, Samantha could turn on the charm. She was also the muse for one of the most famous characters in the world, Explorer Sam.”
“You love her.”
“It wasn’t all her fault. There was a reason she was like she was. I blame Benedict for that and her parents.”
“Did Samantha say where she was going?”
“Toronto Canada.”
“With her lover?”
“Samantha said she was visiting friends there.” Harrison covers his face.
“She had admirers, people who wrote her letters, visited her unannounced.” Damien steps closer, “Sent her gifts and cards.”
“Yes.” Harrison nods his head, dropping his hands, “They frightened her sometimes. She never knew who she was supposed to be to them.”
“Often people put their own desires onto someone else, only seeing what they want them to be, not who they really are. Explorer Sam was a character, not real. Samantha had dreams, desires, a temper, faults. People come to see the freak, not caring about the person.”
Harrison nods his head, “I told Samantha it would be different in New York. No one ever had to know who she was.”
Damien asks, “When did you receive the letter?”
“On the seventh of June. Are you sure?”
“I am. We’re done here.”
Harrison bends his head, “I hope you find out who did this. Samantha didn’t deserve that, not ever. She thought she could get away from Explorer Sam, that’s all she ever wanted.”
When outside Miles says, “Well, let me hear it.”
“Blanche McWalter’s husband is an architect, they lived on Park Lane.”
“Damien.”
“Samantha was beautiful, violet eyes, blonde hair, shapely figure.” Shaking his head, “Marrying the prize, a wealthy, handsome, intelligent American who sincerely loves her. She gave it away for a mystery lover? No, that’s not what happened at all.”
Miles muses, “Too bad Benedict is dead.” Clenching his fists, “I would like to throttle him. It’s not right what he did.” Lying, fooling the world.
Benedict Mercier died three years ago at age fifty-two, in his sleep according to the news stories.
Damien makes a face, “Uncle Benedict suffered from syphilis, warts on his body growing like mushrooms everywhere and a foot rash, puss. It doesn’t make sense. We should visit her parents next. Perhaps they have the answers we seek.”
The Bartletts have a home on Chester Square in Belgravia. When Damien and Miles arrive, a butler leads them into a green drawing room.
Jennie Bartlett, a toe haired, pale rather plain teenager, greets them, “Good-afternoon, gentlemen. My father is at the office. My mother is at a charity meeting.” holding up her hand, “This is my fiancé, Mr. Terence Cadbury.”
Terrence Cadbury firmly shakes Miles’ and Damien’s hands, “Can we help you today?” dark hair, tall, about ten years older than Jennie.
Miles knows the Cadbury family as everyone in the world does, “I enjoy your Cadbury Scotch immensely.” The world’s best-selling brand.
“It never gets tiring hearing that.”
Damien studies the painting of a ship over the fireplace, asking Jennie, “Was your sister unhappy?”
Jennie does not answer right away, “No. She’s in Canada now.”
“Why?”
“To visit friends, that’s all I know.” Jennie smiles, “Canada is far away, posts are slow. Perhaps we shall hear from her soon.”
“She had a lover?”
Jennie shakes her head, “I don’t know anything about that.”
“Were you and Samantha close?” Damien notices the necklace around Jennie’s neck, an ankh: a cross with a tear drop loop on the vertical upper bar, a swastika in the loop’s center.
“We were sisters. We had different interests, but we cared for each other.”
Damien’s voice is tender, “It must have been hard being Explorer Sam’s sister.”
“She cried more than people would imagine.”
Terence snickers.
“The past is done.” Jennie holds out her hands, Terence grabs them, “I have my Terence now. He’s all I need.” The two share a long kiss.
Damien interrupts the scene, “What if I told you Samantha was dead.” spotting a gold chain hanging around Terence’s neck.
Still embracing Terence and Jennie turn their heads; the latter gushing in horror, “Please do not even make such a joke.”
Damien shakes his head, “Not a joke. When was the last time you saw Samantha?”
Jennie does not let go of Terence, “June sixth, we went shopping together in the morning. Then she went on her own to visit friends in Alfriston.” Moving away from Terence, holding onto his hand, “If you will excuse us. You have upset me too much. You may see yourselves out. We need to go to the garden to think.”
Terence snickers once again.
iii
“Loneliness is a terrible thing.” Damien says as he and Miles sit in Jason Bartlett’s office, “You can be in a room filled with people and feel utterly alone, invisible.”
“What are you getting at?” Miles still does not entirely understand the way Damien’s mind works.
“Priscilla Stevens, Blanche McWalters. Someone noticed them finally. Who was it?”
Miles quips, “Their murderer.”
“Exactly. I need to read the cases. Someone was in both their lives, perhaps it’s there.”
Miles says, “I can arrange it.” Nudging Damien’s arm, “What did your cousin get Tabitha?”
“A music box that plays Beethoven’s Apassionata, her favorite.” Damien grins.
Jason Bartlett bellows as he enters the room, “I haven’t all day to spend talking to you.” He runs Mercier Jewels, “Many pressing matters that require my complete attention.”
Miles assures him, “We won’t take up too much of your time. We are here about your daughter, Samantha.”
“What about her?” Jason sounds annoyed, “She left for Canada.”
Damien looks through Jason, “Did she? What was her relationship with Benedict Mercier?”
“Uncle and niece what else?” Jason is unnerved by Damien staring at him, “It’s impolite to stare at someone young man.”
Miles speaks softly, “Damien.”
Damien points to his temple, “Listening to them.” Closing his eyes tight.
Miles leans closer, placing a hand on Damien’s shoulder, “What is it?”
Jason asks, “Is he going mad?”
Damien points towards Jason, “That’s the reason.”
“What?”
“The books were clever and innocent. Benedict and Samantha appeared often together, acting out the stories in plays for the amusement of young and old. Why did you and your wife allow it? Just for money, which you had plenty of. I noticed that painting on the wall in your drawing room.”
“I have many paintings.”
“The Anaconda, the most successful blockade runner of the American Civil War. I hear they give lectures at Westpoint on Colonel Jason Ingraham’s exploits.”
Jason insists, “He was a great man.”
“I lived in the Bahamas for a time, heard many stories. One was about two close farming families in Virginia, the Bartletts and the Hopkins. One Bartlett son and one Hopkins son served on the Anaconda: Jedidiah and Tyler. The Bartletts were well connected in Washington and New York. The Hopkins had no such connections. So, when the war turned against the South, it was clear the Hopkins would lose out. The Bartletts managed to keep their farm, plus be given the Hopkins land as well. Imagine the betrayal after so many years of friendship. One night old Seth Hopkins and his four sons decided to take revenge. They murdered the entire Bartlett family, twelve of them including the babies, setting their house and land on fire. It burned for days, such a tragic tale. It was the end of the war, there were many tragic tales. Eventually, over the years, Seth Hopkins and three of his sons were hunted down, hanged for their crimes. One got away, the youngest, Tyler Hopkins.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Your son’s name is Tyler.”
“So?”
“Tyler Hopkins had a girlfriend in The Bahamas, a plain but very rich young lady who was seven years older than he was. Of course, he wasn’t using the name Hopkins or Tyler.”
Jason is silent.
“He was calling himself a Bartlett and pretending to be a part of that wealthy family.” Damien flashes a contented look, “It’s hard keeping a lie that big going for long. The Mercier’s had to know at some point. You were intelligent, a good business man. Already married to Grace Mercier by 1864. People look passed the most grotesque things for those they love. Benedict didn’t, he was black mailing you and Grace. You two gave him your daughter to keep a family secret safe.”
Jason snaps, “He never touched her.” Though he knew the stories about Benedict’s depravity.
“Benedict controlled Samantha, he wanted Explorer Sam to always be pure in people’s eyes, forever seven years old. Did you know she had a baby?”
Jason nods his head, “Yes. Andre Le Fleur was obsessed with her.”
“Your daughter is dead, someone killed her.” Damien looks for a reaction.
Jason cannot believe this, “No, she went to Canada.”
“Why did she end things with Harrison Porter?” Damien punches his head with his left hand, “Stop it!”
“She had a new lover.” Jason’s eyes flash nervously to Miles.
“When was the last time you saw Samantha?”
“Sunday dinner on the fifth of June.”
“How did she seem?”
“Happy, we all were.” Invitations to dinner with the Royals at Buckingham Palace, “Samantha was happier than I have ever seen her.”
“The body was found on June seventh.” Damien stands abruptly, “Samantha didn’t write that letter, someone else did.” Holding his head, bending over, appearing to be in pain, “Frederick Addams.”
Miles can feel Damien’s distress, “What?”
Damien straightens up, taking in a breath, “Nothing, just a name, someone.” Appearing calm again, “I met him once in St. Petersburg, what a wild summer that was. His favorite color was pink, he played the violin.” telling Miles, “Let’s go. I have to see an old friend of mine.” Turning back to Jason Bartlett, “We’ll be speaking again.”
Walden’s Apothecary and Elixirs is located on Oxford Road. Mr. William Walden is the proprietor. Upon hearing the doorbell jingle he shouts, “Be right with you!”
All around are shelves with bottles of herbs and pills.
Miles is overcome by the smell of sage and tobacco, “Why are we here?”
“You’ll see.” Damien beams when a good-looking chestnut haired young man steps out through black curtains.
“Damien.” William Walden holds open his arms, the two embracing, “So good to see you. Pasha still talks about our wonderful dinner with you and Tabitha last month.” His eyes flashing nervously towards Damien’s companion.
Damien assures him, “Don’t worry about Miles.” introducing the two men, “I have a question. Do you remember a few years back when Sophia Kulikovskaya and Tommy Newkirk were running that fortune telling con?”
The two read fortunes, usually seeing bad luck for their clients, selling them amulets and herbal potions to protect against dark forces. Business was profitable, until the police arrested the couple for fraud.
Will’s parents ran the apothecary back then, “I do.”
The days when Damien was just being introduced to the criminal world, “I saw someone wearing a necklace and it made me think of all those trinkets Kulikovskaya and Newkirk used to sell.” He adds to be clear, “We’re investigating a murder, Samantha Bartlett. Who runs it now?”
“Aishling O’Hara, she’s a high priestess.”
Damien’s eyebrows raise, “High priestess of what?”
“The Temple of Apep, the Egyptian demon of chaos. They have quite a large following. The devotees wear amulets like the Ankh, the Swastika, the Black Sun and the Hexagram.” Will adds, “They are always in here for herbs to cast spells with.”
“I heard talk about witchcraft being practiced.” Damien explains, “Friends in the Theology Department at King’s College. What do they do at this temple?”
“The temple is the Epping Forrest. They dance naked, have sex, drink blood and wine, sing songs. I heard some of the parties get wild. They have a god and goddess whom everyone is to serve and worship.”
“What kind of blood?”
“Mostly animal blood but I heard, and I don’t know how true it is, they passed around human blood a couple of weeks back.”
Miles is aghast, “Dear God.”
Damien is not rattled, “Do the god and goddess have names?”
“They call themselves Anhur and Inanna. Their real names are Terence Cadbury and Jennie Bartlett, I believe Samantha Bartlett’s sister.”
“Are you certain?”
Will nods his head, “One afternoon Aishling came in for orange blossom water, she told me all about it. She refused the blood. She goes to these meetings for the uninhibited sex and numerous drugs, nothing more.” His voice lowers, “Aishling told me, that night they had a severed human head with long blonde hair on a stick. Some danced around it, while others performed various sex acts in front of it. A quartet sang Abide With Me, there were two fiddlers, a clarinetist and someone shaking a tambourine. Quite bizarre.”
Miles leaves the Apothecary.
Damien flashes a sad look for Miles, “Remember that summer we spent in Russia? Prince Golitzyn took a group of us on his yacht to Finland, to see the Midnight sun.”
Will’s eyes are moist, “Yes, the memories.” cherishing those days, he met Pasha there.
“That American certainly charmed those rich Russian ladies, beautiful violin solos, calm water, such peace and tranquility, hypnotic.”
Will sighs, “Oh, our misspent youth. Now look at us, two respectable gentlemen, sharing life with our true loves.”
“That American, Frederick Addams, I wonder what happened to him?”
“Don’t know, never heard of him again. Why?” Will knows Damien always has a reason for asking a question.
“Olga Repnina.”
Will gasps, not having heard that name in years, “Strangled in her bed with pink lace, just before we left for Finland.”
It mildly dampened the party atmosphere in St. Petersburg that summer.
Damien lifts his index finger, “Locks of her hair were cut off, like a trinket you’d pick up to remember a Holiday in Dorset.”
“Do you think that is connected to Blanche McWalters?” Will read about it in the news.
“I wonder.” Damien purses his lips, “Frederick Addams had money for travel, a real bon vivant. I don’t remember what he looked like, though. Thank you, Will.” The two embracing again.
Will calls after Damien, “Dinner soon with you and Tabitha, our place.”
“Give us the day and time. Tabitha will make her strawberry pie.” Outside Damien shouts, “We’ve solved it, Miles!”
iv
In the Green Drawing Room Jason and Grace Bartlett sit together on the white sofa; Terence and Jennie hold hands on a white love seat.
Miles stands by the fireplace overseeing the police, who are digging through flower pots on the terrace.
Damien sits comfortably in a green wing backed chair, “Samantha was famous, the muse for a great character, the subject of a great painting. Then she gets the prize a wealthy, handsome American to marry. She had it all.” Damien’s eyes burn into Jennie, “You hated her.”
Jennie looks behind her, towards the terrace insisting, “That’s a lie.”
Damien continues, “Stuck in between a beautiful, famous sister and the only son. You met this equally resentful man.” Speaking to Terence, “You were terrible in school, bad at sports, and had no gift for conversations.”
Terence tosses his chin, “People simply bore me.” Considering himself above making small talk anyway.
“Something brought you two together. The occult.”
Grace, a chubby woman, speaks up, “She’s only a child, they are curious about things, no harm to it.”
Damien snaps, “I’m speaking, don’t interrupt me.” His attention shifts to Terence, “Your father expected a lot from you and your siblings. You never measured up to his expectations. Then you met Jennie and the two of you could be mad at the world together. You both found comfort in that.”
Jennie folds her arms, looking down with a scowl on her face.
Damien asks her, “Did you ask Terence, or did he suggest murdering your sister?”
Both Grace and Jason let out gasps. Jason saying, “The idea, Jennie is just a child.” Only nineteen years old, “Her mind incapable of such thoughts.”
“How old were you?” Damien continues, “It doesn’t really matter who first suggested it, you both planned the murder, perhaps for months.”
A policeman walks in, “Inspector Long, we found it, in the basil.”
Damien is struck by this, “Samantha’s head in a pot under basil, just like the painting of Isabelle.”
Terence says with great smugness, “You can’t harm me. Do you know who I am?”
“Who?”
“My real father is Amun-Ra, and I’m thousands of years old.”
Damien and Miles exchange looks, the former saying, “My guess is that Monday morning you invited your sister out for shopping, perhaps saying you would buy her something nice. Terence arrived to join you. Somehow you convinced her to stop at Terence’s apartment. You had tea with laudanum. It didn’t kill her, but it made her weak enough so you could undress her, move her to the bathtub, slit her throat, wait for her to bleed out. All this without trouble at all. The note, I’m guessing, you had been working on for weeks to get your sister’s penmanship just right, or good enough to fool Harrison Porter. You put the blood in some sort of container getting rid of it by having your willing followers drink it.” Damien’s attention turns towards the parents, “Didn’t you think it curious when Jennie came home alone? Samantha hadn’t packed a bag for travel, or bought a train ticket.”
Grace hesitates, not wishing to look any worse.
Miles cannot muster sympathy for the Bartletts, “Think of your dead daughter for once.”
“Samantha was always so grown up, she did what she pleased.” Grace stopped questioning her long ago; Samantha too difficult to handle.
Miles is visibly disgusted by Grace Bartlett.
Damien looks to Jennie, “You mailed the letter ahead, quite clever and lucky, it arrived the same day the body was found, so no one became suspicious.”
Jason starts weeping.
Terence points his left hand towards Damien, “I curse you.”
Damien rolls his eyes, “It’s not the first time someone’s cursed me.”
Terence announces as two policemen lift him to his feet, “It was all my idea. Jennie had nothing to do with it.”
Jennie is stone faced as she is led away.
Later, as Miles and Damien ride together in a carriage, Miles asks, “Who is Frederick Addams?”
“I believe, he is a killer who enjoys killing for the sake of killing, like a hobby or sport.”
“How do we find him?”
“Let me read those cases, the voices will tell me where to start. Though we may never find him. Frederick Addams may be just a ghost.”
“I have faith in you.” Miles has grown to consider Damien like a son.
Damien smiles, “Rufus told Joe and me that, one day, people would be able to fly through the air in ships. There would be moving picture plays and men would walk on the moon. He said I would be knighted by the fifth King George, just before the first of two terrible world wars, both would cause horrific suffering.” Shaking his head, “Some of the other things he predicted were just plain weird.”
Bio:
Catherine Cahill was born in East Hartford Connecticut. She worked for the State of Connecticut for 31 years, retiring in 2017. She now spends her time training in Mixed Martial Arts and writing stories.