Rhodes

Methods of Madness

It had been just over forty hours since we caught our tree-hopping culprit. I saw the picture in the newspaper. The headline read: “Tree Leering Demon Found: Jack Dawkin’s Terrifying Hoax.” As it turned out, his name was Jack Dawkins, a foreigner with no prior connection to Rhodes. The only string that bound him to the town was his former friend at Stormbridge-Jack Risinger.

According to the paper-which I always took with only a grain of salt- Dawkins was a former stuntman for numerous stage productions and a natural prankster. The news was citing this fact to explain how he was able to do the things he did.

The rest of the details I was keen to work out when I arrived at the precinct. In the meantime I was making breakfast for my son. I was never much of a cook. I could make simple things and follow recipes pretty well. Anything that required any other skills were quite beyond me. That’s why I liked making scrambled eggs. They’re nearly impossible to ruin and they’re very healthy.

“Good morning.” I told my son as he walked into the room.

“Morning.” He said back.

I scrambled the eggs all around the pan as I lifted it. I walked over to the table and scraped a little less than half of them onto one plate and the rest onto my plate. It was hard to maneuver with my broken arm but I managed.

“How are you holding up?” I asked.

“Just fine.” Calvin sighed. His fork twirled around the eggs on his plate. “You’re leaving again today, aren’t you?”

“Calvin…” I knew this conversation was coming. “There are still things I must do. This is my job. I can’t just stop for a lengthy vacation in the middle of an investigation.”

“But you already caught the man.”

“I don’t think we have.” I kept my voice even. “I can’t share the particulars of the case with you. But this Jack Dawkins was not alone in his crimes.”

Calvin seemed to understand. He knew what I was like. He knew about my unwavering sense of justice. I tried to be there for him. I at least tried to make the adjustments necessary to become a single parent. Calvin understood that much. He was the kind of kid that kept everything bottled up. He kept everything internal. I did worry for what would happen if he let his emotions fester into a boil until they explode. I was lucky that Calvin maintained his emotions during this time.

“When we were out in the forest...did you hear anything?” Calvin asked. It was a strange question. The look on my face revealed that much. “When I was scared and I breathed in that gas, I could have sworn I heard Mom’s voice.”

“It was all in your head.” I said.

“I know that. I was just curious as to what-if anything- you heard.”

“I can’t think of anything from that time.” I admitted. “I do know that out in the forest-when I first encountered Dawkins- I heard whispers.”

“Oh.” Calvin said as he toyed with his food some more before eating it. “Well, tell me all about it, if you can, when you get back from work.”

“Can do.” I said. “Better to hear it from me than to hear it from the news.” I added a smirk.

A few hours later I was back at my precinct. It seemed much more mellow than it had been just a few days earlier when this investigation began. Once again, some disparate news outlets were crowding the door trying to get an inkling for what was going on. No doubt so they could twist it into whatever suited them best. But that’s just what they do. I learned to take what they say with a grain of salt when I was still a young man.

“Good Afternoon Macdonald.” Jasper greeted me. “I take it you want to get started?”

“Absolutely.” I said.

“Alright.” Jasper led me into the evidence room. The first thing he grabbed looked like a pair of boots with massive springs in them. “This is how Dawkins jumped around the forest so quickly.”

I held them in my hand and looked at the notes. They had gyroscopic motors. The was a pressure plate on the heel that tightened the springs. This undoubtedly allowed Dawkins to control when he’d jump.

“This is similar to the Spring-Heeled Jack.” I said. “That prankster from across the pond who convinced London he was a demon.”

“I suppose that is where Dawkins got the idea.” Jasper noted. He threw down some clawed gloves. “These allowed him to keep his balance and climb trees as if he were some kind of ape.”

“Or a rodent.” I said as I examined the gloves.

“His outfit was made from wood.” Jasper noted. “He also used pig fat to give himself a more fleshy appearance.” Jasper set down a makeup kit. “And because of his appearance, it only took a little bit of makeup to pass himself off as Jack Risinger.”

“So Jack Risinger is dead.” I sighed in relief.

“I doubt he had the resources to make a convincing cadaver in Risinger’s place. Otherwise our old foe could have put these contraptions to use. Instead we have a simple pranking doppleganger.”

“That doppleganger still tried to kill me and my son.” I fumed.

“True.” Jasper sighed. “As far as we can gather, he was doing it for fun.”

“No wonder the pair of Jacks took such a liking to each other.”

“Kindred spirits and all that.” Jasper said. “Which brings me to the next sample. To give himself a monstrous appearance, he put small candles in his hair.”

“First the Spring-Heeled Jack and now Blackbeard.” I said, remembering the stories of how the pirate leader would light his hair on fire.

“I must admit it was effective.” Jasper said. “Which brings me to one last effective tool Dawkins had at his disposal. The gas. We still don’t know where he got it. We do know that it is not actually a hallucinogen. It is actually a chemical used in treating asylum patients. It attacks the fear center in the brain.”

“If it’s used in asylums it’s safe to say he got it from Stormbridge.” I guessed. “Whether he stole it or it was given to him is a question for later.”

“The gas is called carbogen.”

“So you did find the machine?” I asked.

“We did, yesterday.” Jasper said. “It was set up in a hollowed out tree near the shack where Eli had looked.”

“So, what is this gas?” I asked.

“Carbogen is a mix of carbon dioxide and oxygen gas. It convinces your brain that you are suffocating, which overloads your fear receptors.”

“That would explain the shortage of breaths when I was in those woods.” I said.

“Stormbridge used it to quell their more violent inmates.” Jasper said. “Not sure how I feel about that.”

“Everyone of them was in there for a reason.” I said.

“Indeed.” Jasper conceded. “The carbogen was released along side water vapor to diminish the effects. Good thing too. Being exposed the way you were, you would have suffocated.”

“Suffocated.” My mind strained for a connection. If Dawkins had access to this gas, why was Ms. Penderton killed in such a gruesome manner? Jasper’s mind seemed to be running on the same tracks.

“There’s still no word from him involving the Penderton case.” Jasper sighed.

“I’m going to talk to him.” Macdonald said.

“Suit yourself.” Jasper said. “He’s in the interrogation room.”

The interrogation room was exactly like you’d imagine it. It was dimly lit with a small table in the middle. Two pairs of chairs lined the table’s longest sides. Dawkins sat in one chair. His wrist was cuffed to a notch on the top of the table.

Now that I had a good look at him, he really wasn’t anything like Jack Risinger. He could maybe, just maybe, pass for Risinger’s brother. His features were thinner and more cadaverous. He was obviously much older than I.

“Greetings detective.” He hissed. I narrowed my vision as I sat across from him. “I’m not answering anything about my crimes without my lawyer present.” He said with a grin.

“Well then, I suppose you won’t say why you did it.”

“I already said why so I don’t mind repeating.” Dawkins mused. “It was for the thrill. What is the point of living if you can’t do what entertains you. You carry yourself with purpose. Risinger told me about your unwavering sense of justice that made you quite unpopular when you first joined the force.”

“That was a long time ago. This town is much different than it was a few years ago.”

“So I’ve heard.” Dawkins giggled. “Risinger and I spent a lot of time together before I was released from Stormbridge.”

“You must think it a shame that he’s passed on.” I said.

“Nah, he died doing what he loved. Killing someone.” He said with a terrible laugh. “I know that sounds horrible given the circumstances but that’s something we’ll never agree on. You bind yourself to the law. I see the law as a strictly human construct meant to separate us from animals. Well, we are animals so things like the law are of no use to me.”

“I’ve heard that philosophy before. Did Risinger feed you those lines or was that the common ground that your relation was built on.”

“Common ground.” He said. “But, that’s all I’m willing to say about that.”

“Do you know this woman?” I handed him a picture of Alice Penderton.

“I saw it in the papers the other day.” Dawkins said. “She was murdered.”

“She worked at Siren’s Song Casino. The same one you were spotted at in the days and weeks leading up to her murder.”

“Ah, my testing ground.” Dawkins said. “Took me awhile to get the routine down. It’s actually quite fascinating. On the stage, actors practice for months for a few hours of performance that they just repeat ad nauseum until the play runs its course.”

“Is that what it was?” I asked. “Witnesses say that Alice Penderton was spooked by your actions.”

“That doesn’t mean I killed her. I spooked a lot of people for sure yet they’re all still alive.”

“No, but you’re friend could have.”

“Friend? There’s that word again.”

“I saw him the night I first chased after you.” I said. “He’s big and tall and most likely wears armor.”

“I don’t know who or what you’re talking about.”

“He’s the one who threw the rock that broke my hand.” I slammed my good hand on the table. Dawkins had quite the grip.

“I may know where to find him.” Dawkins said after a minute’s pause. “I don’t know who he is. But I saw a lot of things in those woods. I may have even saw Alice grow curiouser and curiouser, following me into the woods only to find someone or something else entirely.”

“Where is he?” I asked.

“I’ve been staying in that old shack out in the middle of the woods.” He explained. “Every night I heard footsteps and snapping trees while I slept. The night I first saw you, when I returned to that shack, it was a wreck.”

“So you moved the machine.” I said.

“I knew one way or another our next encounter was bound to be the last act of the play. So, I didn’t mind having it out in the open like that for one last time.”

“You said you knew where to find him.” I got back to the matter at hand.

“He’s not exactly discreet.” Dawkins laughed. “I believe the only reason you haven’t caught him already is because of how thick the fog was the day of the murder. Poor Ms. Penderton was so brave at the worst of times. The monster chased her down and beat her to a pulp then, realizing what he had done, ran and hid.”

“You say that as if you were there.”

“I was.” Dawkins revealed. “At first I was on the rooftop. Then, I dropped down and mingled with the crowd. That’s actually how I first got a look of your face. Anyways, while I spent time in the trees, I did see the murderer go into an abandoned storm shelter under the condemned bridge out in the woods. If you find him, I’d be happy to testify-for a price.”

“You want leeway?”

“Just for the legal system to go a bit easier on me. Afterall, I’m not the murderer. Not for lack of trying but you get the idea.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” I stood to leave. I knew it could have been a trap. I knew it could be dangerous. The pieces were set and the curtain was closing. That night would be an end. I thought the final questions would be answered. I knew I’d find the monster responsible for Ms. Penderton’s death. I thought I was ready but I wasn’t. What sane man could have been ready for what lurked in those caves.