Robert Walker - Shadows in the White City

“Yeah…basic information gathering,” agreed Behan, “but people don’t know that. They only know what they wanna know.”

“On the ground information gathering, Behan,” Alastair said, “exactly.”

“All the same, people can twist things, so keep it quiet, your connection to the victim,” Behan continued to caution.

Alastair now glared openly at Behan, and then his glare took in Logan. “I did not say I slept with the child!”

Behan shushed him. “We…I didn’t mean to imply-”

But Alastair loudly proclaimed, “Those two ghouls over there with their meat wagon won’t get their hands on Danielle.”

“Alastair! What’re you doing?”

Ransom lifted her up into his arms. “No one cared for her in life, not anyone. In death, she’ll be cared for.” With that he carried Danielle’s brutalized and butchered body to the police dram that had brought him here.

Shanks and Gwinn started to rush in, demanding to know what Ransom was doing. Cook County Morgue paid Shanks and Gwinn only for the numbers of bodies they brought in. Logan and Behan stepped in, running interference for Ransom, backing Shanks and Gwinn off.

“Sorry, boys, but the CPD has this one,” said Logan.

“Back off,” added Behan.

Ransom laid the body in the police carriage and ordered the uniformed driver to take him and Danielle’s remains to the morgue. As the driver pulled away with Ransom and the unusual cargo, Alastair heard Shanks spit out a curse under his breath, while Gwinn toyed with a six-inch blade, cleaning his dirty nails. Both of the reputed resurrection men had sternly eye-balled Inspector Ransom as he’d closed the carriage door on himself and the body.

“Never seen a grown man cry,” Behan muttered to his partner.

Logan looked from the retreating carriage to the ambulance men. “Yeah…just look at the vultures.”

“I meant Rance.”

“Rance? I saw no tears.”

“Look a little deeper next time.”

“They get paid by the number of bodies transported to County, Alastair, and those fellows, no matter what you think of them, have a right to a living as anyone,” Dr. Fenger chastised him on learning that Ransom was in his morgue with the young woman’s body. Fenger had guessed her age at thirteen, perhaps fourteen.

“Damn Shanks and Gwinn, Christian! I talk to this girl and two days later she’s brutally murdered!”

“You knew the child?”

“Not really, no. I was following a lead…a lead that began with Jane and a young girl now in as much danger, a street urchin named Audra, who led us to Danielle.”

“I have coffee in my office. Come, let’s talk.”

It was not long before Alastair downed his second cup of Irish coffee and had explained the religion of the street children he had run into. Fenger had listened with awe at the revelations both from the children and from Philo Keane.

“I had not known Philo was an orphan as a child.”

“He had it pretty rough in Montreal.”

“You know, Alastair…not that it has anything to do with Philo, but some people who grow up on the streets like that…as adults or older children, they begin bullying others, and it is not unusual for some to escalate to violence. Some escalating to murder of the very thing that reminds them of their past.”

“Are you saying-”

“Just theorizing.”

“Are you theorizing that the bastard behind these butcherings and vanishings was once a street child?”

“Was and perhaps still is-even if older!”

“Gone over to the dark side of that religion they preach, yes,” agreed Ransom with himself. “Of course. Acting on the belief in this war between Heaven and Hell, and doing Satan’s bidding.”

“A strong possibility, yes.”

“There’re literally thousands of homeless here.”

“And more flooding into the city every day.”

Alastair declined a third cup of the potent, bourbon-spiked coffee. He stared, glassy-eyed, at Fenger’s wall of degrees and awards.

“So what will you do now, Alastair?”

“I’m gonna hunt this predator down like the animal he is.”

“And when you catch him?”

Inspector and doctor stared at one another for a long moment. Finally, Alastair said, “Nathan has surely informed you by now that I refuse to be a pawn in Senator Chapman’s plan of vengeance.”

“And nothing will dissuade you?”

“Even I have my standards, Doctor.”

“We all must find the line we’re unwilling to cross.”

“Look, climbing into this pact with Kohler is a sure step toward hell; you can only regret it in the end, Christian.”

“I’m sure you’re right. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“There has to be another way. With your reputation, you should be capable of naming your loan.”

“I’m afraid not…not anymore. Have borrowed from all of ’em.”

“I don’t understand it, Christian. You don’t gamble anymore than Philo or I, so where is all this money going?”

“I can’t say.”

“Secrets. Everybody’s got secrets.”

“This could ruin me.”

Alastair shook his head. “Nothing you could do, old friend, could possibly ruin you in my eyes, unless you turn out to be the madman going about butchering children.”

“Some in the press are saying he is a medical man.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Saying Leather Apron makes incisions, makes surgical cuts. Damn fools. I made Carmichael sit through the last autopsy, and I showed him the difference between butchery and surgery.”

“Did it take? Did he get it?”

“Like the fools in London who called Jack the Ripper’s twenty-nine or thirty insane slashes precision, and why? Because he ripped out a woman’s uterus and other organs?” Fenger had stood and was now pacing, angry at the thought of it. “Damn fools. Sometimes I feel we are surrounded on all sides by imbeciles.”

“Any copper can see these cuts have no similarity to surgery,” agreed Ransom. “But it does not rule out that the killer could be a cagey medical fellow who wants it to look like anything but precision.”

“Oh, please, not you, too.”

“Doctor, I don’t have the luxury of ruling out whole classes of people; I am in the business of suspecting everyone until they are cleared.”

“Guilty till proven innocent?”

“’Fraid so. How else do you expect me to operate?”

“Alastair…my instincts tell me this man has had no training whatsoever, and this latest of his kills is some sort of message.”

“Message?”

“Either to you or to those street children you spoke of.”

“Hmmm…I’ve said as much to Behan and Logan.”

“So again, I ask,” began Frenger, “what will your next move be?”

“It’s back to the streets, and I must find a way to get word to every child in this city, because this maniac doesn’t care if you have a home or not, are monied or poor, black or white, parentless or the child of a senator.”

“He appears to have only one thing in mind.”

“He wants your flesh.”

“Yes,” agreed Fenger, “a flesh vampire, who feeds off the carcass over time, generally, but with your last victim, he did not continue feeding but rather left the body in a well-traveled area, where cops routinely patrol, to be found early… soon -like now.”

“Sending a message.”

“Using a child’s body to send a message, yes.”

“Perhaps due to me.”

“We don’t know that, Alastair…not for certain.”

“I should’ve bloody well stayed on Mackinac Island and not come back,” Alastair said on his way out the door. “Fiends and monsters-I attract fiends and monsters.”

Fenger shouted down the hall after him. “We don’t know that the message is directed at you! Don’t be so self-serving even in this, Ransom! Suppose the message is being sent to the other children?”