Rhodes

The spring fog was inordinately thick on my morning commute. I swear, a man dying of thirst could find sustenance with the sheer amount of moisture in the air. It gathered on the edge of my pointed hat like divers on a cliffside. Every once in awhile I could feel it drip on my nose like a tear. The fog was so thick, that had I not known the route like the back of my hand I would have surely been lost. It was exactly the kind of morning mist that caused my fellow locals to stay indoors. Surely, had there not been work to do, I too would have stayed and read some more of those disposable pulps my son and I so thoroughly enjoyed. But alas, crime so seldom took an off day. So, neither shall I. “Macdonald.” My fellow inspector greeted me with a handshake outside the precinct. A crowd had gathered there, which was most peculiar. Usually people sought to avoid the station, not flock to it. “Jasper.” I greeted back as I made my way through the crowd. “What’s with this crowd?” “Dead body sir.” Jasper answered as he adjusted his hat. I pushed my way past the vulturess journalist that had gathered around the body. Another one of my fellow officers, a brilliant young man by the name of Simmons, was examining the body. “What do you make of it Simmons?” I asked. “It’s a mess.” Simmons said as he ran his hand through his copper locks. “The poor girl’s been mangled. It could take weeks to get a good ID.” “I take it there’s nothing on her person.” I guessed. “Aye.” He said again. “She was found like this just an hour ago.” He used a rob to move the girl’s cold dead hands. “She was clawing at something that’s for sure.” “Can we perhaps get some skin samples?” I asked. “No.” Simmons sighed. “Her nails are chipped and her fingers are bloody. Whatever she was clawing at was stronger than her fingers. Judging by her skin I’d say she was in her twenties. Blonde hair, blue eyes, none of that really narrows it down though. I stroked my fine beard as I thought. My first guess was blunt force trauma. Bruises ran up and down her arms and face. Whoever did this must have been unusually strong. Without an ID though, this puzzle would be difficult to solve. “No witnesses.” Jasper said as he joined us. “The old lady across the block heard a bloodcurdling scream about an hour ago. She called the police and when they stepped outside, they found her like this. No sign that she was r***d or anything like that.” I leaned in closer to the girl. I ran over her every curve with a keen eye. This wasn’t the first time I had seen a body. Fifteen years as a detective in a dense urban metropolis will strengthen any man’s stomach. Even so, I hadn’t encountered anything quite like this. I noticed Simmons’ heavy breathing next to me. It was only then that I remembered just how inexperienced the boy was. He looked ghastly, barely holding onto his professional demeanor. I put my hand on his shoulder to get his attention. “Go inside and prepare some coffee.” He shook his head and quickly left. A bulb flashed behind me. “And someone get these reporters out of here!” I ordered. “Clear out! Clear out!” Officers behind me said. “Nothing to see here.” One more bulb flashed on the body. This time, something else caught my eye. A glint of metal-no bigger than a tick-was on the victim’s neck. The light from the camera must have reflected off it. I took some tweezers from my pocket and picked it up. I then swiftly slipped it into a small vial for later testing. I handed everything to the coroner"s after that and made my way inside. “There had to have been a weapon used.” Jasper noted. “I can’t possibly imagine a human fist,” he swallowed as he finished his sentence, “could do such a thing.” “Jasper,” I said, “you’ve been on the force twice as long as me. Have you seen anything like that?” “Not to that extent.” Jasper sighed. He removed his hat and hung it up, displaying his sparse silvery hair. “Once, shortly before you joined the force, there was such a murder. The perpetrators name was Bernard Nash. He had beaten his wife to death.” “I remember hearing about that.” I said. “It was a pretty open and close case.” Jasper continued. “His skin had claw marks from her. His knuckles were torn. Her dental marks were on one of his hands from when she fought back. The children bore witness. We caught him shortly after. Now, Mr. Nash is burning in whatever circle of hell people like him go. Hung from his neck-the only appropriate punishment for thugs like that.” “To my memory he had a list of priors.” I said. “That he did-long as my arm in fact. Assault, theft, breaking and entering, even nearly got him on a murder charge or two.” “I wasn’t aware he was convicted of any other murders.” “Hence the nearly.” Jasper sighed. “Pretty much everyone knew he was a hired gun. But we could never get him until he killed his wife.” “It’s terrible what some people put up with.” I sighed. “I’m sure Powell is well underway with a list of potential suspects.” I referred to another brilliant mind in our precinct. Powell rarely got it right the first try but I had never solved a case where the perpetrator wasn’t on his initial list. Which, probably didn’t say much considering his initial lists could contain hundreds of names. “Here"s your coffee sir.” Simmons said as he walked up with a tray full of coffee cups. “Thank you my good man.” Jasper said. “Anytime Mr. Henry.” Simmons said. “Please, just call me Jasper.” “Ah, right...how about you, Jason?” Simmons said as I grabbed a coffee cup. “I"m not overly fond of my first name.” I said. “Macdonald, simply Macdonald, sounds much more dignified.” “Daddy issues.” Jasper whispered jokingly. Simmons snickered at the tease. I rolled my eyes. Jasper always treated me like a little brother despite being nearly twice my age. In truth Macdonald was my mother’s maiden name. Jasper knew that. He knew both my parents. He had arrested my father on a fair number of occasions. It was no skin off my bones. I barely knew my father. He had left my mother and I when I was little, hence my use of my mother’s name. “So, what do you make of this case?” Simmons asked. “I don’t know.” I had to admit. “I do have one clue.” I pulled out the vial that contained the metal shaving. “Could be from our murder weapon.” “A hammer?” Simmons guessed. “I for one hope so.” Jasper said in a solemn tone. “I’m going to run this down to the forensic boys.” I said. “I want the coroner’s report on my desk right away.” I started walking down the hall when I caught a glimpse of the reporters outside. “And someone please tell those reporters to piss off!” I stormed down the hallway and down the steps to our chief forensic exports. Roberts was in charge down there and worked closely with Klein-the coroner. For metallurgy though- Vanheim was my man. “Welcome Macdonald.” The chiseled, gray-haired Vanheim said. “What do I owe the pleasure?” “It’s a circus out there.” I replied. “Goes to show the mindless masses just want a little gore in their life.” I showed him the vial. “Found this on the Jane Doe.” Vanheim took the vial from me. “I swear, blood and violence has distracted so many young people from what is truly terrifying.” He grabbed the vial and started examining it. “And what is truly terrifying?” I asked, though I knew the answer. “Well, not knowing of course.” Venheim said with a chuckle. “It’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” He carefully removed the flake from the vial and put it under a telescope. “Any clue where it came from?” I asked. “Simmons and Jasper say it’s from a hammer but I’ve never seen a hammer quite that illustrious. I was even able to see it in that confounded fog.” “Without any tests, it’s impossible to say.” Vanheim said. “All I can assure you of is that it didn’t come from a bullet. Klein told me that much.” “No bullet wound.” I said. “That was easy enough for me to guess just by looking at her.” “I’ll see what I can find.” Vanheim said. “I’ll have Roberts take a look at it too. With any luck Klein will find more in his autopsy.” “I’ll be at my desk.” I informed. “As I always am.” I walked back upstairs to my office. Jasper and Simmons were in Jasper’s office, interviewing the sole witness. In my office a familiar and unwanted face was waiting to greet me. Her raven locks drough out the red in her lipstick. Other than those two factors, she was dressed for business. Though she was generally a pleasant person, her visits were anything but. “This isn’t a bad time, is it?” She asked. “No Miranda, it isn’t.” I said reluctantly as I walked past her and sat at my desk. Miranda was a clinical psychologist as Stormbridge Asylum. Stormbridge was my own Pandora’s Box. Anyone I arrested and got convicted that didn’t get thrown away to the federal prison, were thrown in there, usually on a trumped up insanity plea. Unlike the federal prison, the monsters I locked away there had a chance to get out. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I have good news this time.” “Good news for once?” I said with much disbelief. “Jack Risinger is dead.” She said flatly. I set my coffee cup down and sighed. “When?” “Last night.” She answered. “You can rest easy now. The man responsible for so much tragedy in your life and the lives of so many others in this little town of Rhodes is no longer amongst the living.” “How did it happen?” I reluctantly asked. “Last I heard he was still swearing unending vengeance on me.” “He was to his dying breath.” Miranda said as she put a note on my desk. “He even said it in his suicide note.” I crumbled up the piece of paper and threw it in the bottom left-hand drawer. That was where I put all useless paper that I didn’t have the thought of throwing away. I thought that maybe one day I’d read it and take pleasure knowing that the man who murdered Mary had killed himself. “Thank you.” I said calmly. “That’s all I have for you.” Miranda said. “How’s Calvin doing?” “He’s doing well enough.” I said. “He started catching a cold with the changing season. Not enough for the boy to miss out on school. If it gets worse I may have to hire a nanny.” “He’s twelve, I’m sure he can take care of himself.” Miranda said. “I’m sure too, that’s not what I’m worried about.” I gave a soft smile. “He’s at that age where I was nothing but trouble.” “Oh, I remember.” Miranda said with a happy sigh. “Anyway, I have to get going back to Stormbridge. Don’t be a stranger.” She waved as she left. Jasper filed in after her. “What was that about?” Jasper asked. “Nothing important.” I said. “I’ll tell you later. What did the old lady have to say?” Jasper took a seat across from me. “Mrs. Bentler said she heard a scream. Nothing we don’t already know. Another woman-a Mrs. Thurston- came forward with a report.” “The librarian?” I pondered. “The very same.” Jasper said with a nod. “She said she saw a woman running down the street just ten minutes before Mrs. Bentler reported the scream. She said that it didn’t seem off at the time.” “I understand.” I sighed. “So many people want to assume the best.” “That’s what I told her.” Jasper leaned forward. “She said she did recognize her from the library. She gave a name-Alice.” “Alice?” I repeated. Jasper nodded. “She’s giving a description to Rohan now.” He mentioned our resident sketch artist. “With a name and a face, we can have her full ID in no time.” Jasper said. “Alice…” I repeated for the name sounded familiar to me. “I think I may know who our victim is.” “Who?” Jasper said with a raised eyebrow. “Alice Penderton.” I said. “I believe she worked at that gambling ring on the river.” “Shall I make arrangements for us to go up there?” Jasper asked. “You surely may.” I stood and stretched my legs. I finished my coffee. I grabbed my hat and set out. A most peculiar case had been-quite literally-dropped on my precinct’s doorstep. In that first hour I thought it to be a conventional murder. Little did I know I was going headlong into a most dangerous hunt.