“What is it, Rance?” she asked.
“I can’t say, but whatever it is, it’s big. Perhaps a fire’s broke out at the fair. Best make a call. May I use your phone?”
“By all means, yes.”
He quickly dressed and coming out of the room, he found himself face-to-face with Gabby, whose eyes informed the inspector that he needn’t concern himself over her sensibilities.
“What do you suppose the uproar is about?” Gabby asked.
“Dunno…maybe someone’s hurt, maybe an accident at the fair with that blasted wheel in the sky. See to your mother, Gabrielle.”
Gabby did exactly that, going in to her mother. Behind him, he could hear their feminine whispers, no doubt about his being here and coming out of Jane’s bedroom. He did hear Gabby jokingly say, “Mother, you must join the suffragettes! We need the scandalous among us so badly!”
He then heard Jane declare there was nothing scandalous about love.
This only served to set Gabby off further and the whisperings returned.
He grabbed up the phone and called into headquarters, getting a dispatcher named Llewyn on the line. The man stammered until Ransom yelled, “Settle down and just tell me what’s happened at the fair, man!”
“Dead he is…hanging on the door like a ragdoll, they’re saying.”
“Who? Who is killed?”
“His head near severed by the garrote.”
“The garrote!”
“Trussed up on the door like a pig-at the science and industry exhibit hall-hog-tied through the underarms was the way I got it.”
“Who damn you! Who is dead?”
“Your young assistant, Inspector.”
He went cold inside.
“Young Drimmer,” said Llewyn.
“Griff…but it can’t be.”
“I’m sorry, Inspector.”
“But we left him in Lincoln Park only hours ago.”
“Yes, sir.”
“He was fine when I last saw him.”
“Sorry,” continued the mantra. “So sorry, sir.”
Behind him, the women wanted to know what’d happened.
News of a body hanging from the huge doors of the Science and Industry Pavilion spread fire fashion throughout the city, and the further news that it was the murdered body of a police inspector fueled fear and nonstop speculation. It was obvious that the Phantom of the Fair was back with a vengeance, and that, as always, he loved taunting the police. Now he had killed one of their own in the same hideous fashion as with previous victims.
No doubt Griffin’s body had been left on public display to rub it into the collective face of authorities, and in particular, Alastair Ransom. The Phantom had returned to his ugly modus operandi to the letter, the pattern of his work vengefully intact and identical.
Ransom had raced to the scene, and he’d gone to his knees on seeing Griffin in the same state as the earlier victims. No one had dared touch the body, not until Alastair arrived. Now that he was here, he shouted, “For God’s sake, cut him down, and do it with a care to the head!”
Ransom recognized Griffin’s shoes, his argyle socks, and a few other elements of his clothing. The head and face and torso had been cruelly torched. “Neither his wife nor children’ll recognize him,” Ransom lamented to Philo, who’d just reached him. “It’s as though this monster has it in for me personally.”
“My God…I left him alone out there,” muttered Philo. “He…Griff insisted I go. I should’ve insisted I stay.”
“Then I’d be burying both of you. This little fiend kills like…like some sort of preternatural badger. Had you been out in that fog, you’d now be hanging here lifeless, your body burned, your throat severed.”
“What’ll you do now, Alastair?”
“Kill Denton my way, in my time.”
“I never heard that.”
“Good…keep it so.”
“When will you strike him down?”
“Look there, in the crowd over your left shoulder and tell me what you see?”
Philo glanced over his shoulder to find Waldo Denton amid the milling crowd with his hansom hack and horse. Philo saw the slight little near imperceptible nod he threw in Ransom’s direction, as if tossing down the gauntlet, as if Griff’s death was just that-a taunt to further infuriate Ransom.
“Philo, I want you to plan a trip.”
“A trip?”
“Perhaps go to Mackinaw City…maybe out to Mackinac Island.”
“Where the deuce is that?”
“Michigan, top of the Great Lakes.”
“Lovely there, I’m sure, but-”
“And I want you to escort Miss Gabrielle Tewes and her aunt there, to get them to a place of safety until I come for you or send a telegram. Is that understood?”
“But, Ransom.”
“No buts. Just do it. This maniac is killing everyone who means anything to me, and Philo, you are my closest friend, and as for the women-”
“All right…I’ll do it. I’ve never cast myself a hero.”
“You will be if you take care of Jane and Gabby.”
“What about Dr. Tewes and Christian Fenger? Do you imagine either or both in danger?”
“I’ll talk to them, but neither man is likely to do as I say. Still, I’ll warn each off and away from this madness.”
“If Griff’s body was transported in Denton’s cab, there’ll be blood in the coach. I could get photos.”
“Forget about it.”
“What? Why?”
“Denton’s thorough.”
“He’d have cleaned up by now, you mean?”
“Even if the cushions were soaked in blood, it wouldn’t be proof enough for the likes of Kehoe and Kohler!”
“They’ll say he was carving up chickens in the coach, heh?”
“The dirty bastard’ll be handled in Chicago fashion.”
Philo, a Canadian native, asked, “Chicago fashion by way of Galway? Belfast?”
“Waste no time and travel light as to stir no interest. Tell the women the same.”
“When will you do it, Ransom, and what form will it take?”
“The least you know, the better.”
“I suppose it’s the only way now.”
“I see no other way to combat this evil. This creep’s convinced a willing cadre of my enemies that I’ve faked evidence against him-including the weapon and even his own handprint.”
“Planted there by you, I’ve heard it said. As you’ve some unreasonable hatred of the poor boy. But, Rance, everyone in the city will know when they find Denton’s body that you killed him.”
“There are ways to dispose of a body in a city this size, trust me. No one will ever find Denton’s remains.”
He placed a hand on Alastair. “You will be careful?”
“As always, of course.”
“Griffin was not a big man by any means, but he had forty pounds on Denton and he was a trained investigator with fight in him.”
“Nothing saved him…I know.” He stared again at Griff’s corpse. “That unholy bastard Denton must’ve come up out of the fog, took him from behind like all the others.”
“You should at least have the coach inspected for blood, Rance.”
“For all the bloody good it’d do! He’ll explain it as some fare who called for Cook County emergency, someone whose hand perhaps had been cut in a bar fight. He’s twisted each piece of evidence to Kohler’s liking and Kehoe’s excusing of it-even the photograph of his handprint at two crime scenes-direct lies.”
“Yes, the charming little fellow has convinced Kohler and Kehoe that handprints can be misread and flawed.”
“Corroborated by Dr. Fenger’s findings-inconclusive.”
“A magic trick in the developing room,” said Philo.
“I am convinced there’s only one path now.”
“Will you go down that path today?”
“No. Today I see to Griff’s family, to his proper burial, to the scant policeman’s fund his wife has coming, and in my private moments, I plot Denton’s execution.”
“I can imagine any number of fine executions you’ve dreamed up.”
“Aye, but keep your voice down.”
“Will you burn him alive?” whispered Philo, eyes dilated.
“It would be fitting.”
“But first you’ll wanna beat it from him as to why he’s done this.”