The Chronicles of Beast and Man

by J. Charles Ralston

  Rod was slowly becoming obsessed with the connection. He had read through the files on the Maxwell Hester murder several times. Something that Rod just couldn’t put his finger on forced him to search the files again and again. He was certain that he would eventually find something there that would explain to him what was going on.

  Rod was just beginning to read the autopsy report on Maxwell again for the fourth time, when all of a sudden his cell phone began to vibrate from inside his pants pocket. He glanced down to see that he had a new text message.

  Marcy: Can I See U?

  Rod deleted the message without another thought, and went back to the autopsy report. He had no time for Marcy right now, he was far too busy.

  Rod was not finding any solid connections between the two murders, but something else had started to bother him. He too was becoming less convinced that these acts were committed by a person. The murders were so vile and chaotic they felt more like feedings than murders. Rod couldn’t for the life of him understand what kind of creature it could be. He also couldn’t understand why it would suddenly return after five years, but it certainly had. Rod was not prepared to share his view with anyone else. Everyone in town was certain that they had a killer amongst them. Why start babbling about the possibility of it being an animal killing people? He didn’t want the people to think he was nuts or unfit to serve the city. He would just have to make this all stop. That would be the only way these people would really appreciate him. Another thought seeped into Rod’s thoughts: What if this were some kind of sleeping giant, in a matter speaking? What on earth had woken it?

  Rod flipped back to the Gabrielle Parker police report and began reading until his cell phone started going off again. This time it was a phone call, not a text message. Rod picked up his phone to see that it was John Auston calling. Wonderful, Rod thought to himself.

  “This is Rod.” He answered.

  “Hey Rod, I’ve got something that I need to address, or at least let you be aware of. I got a phone call earlier from a producer at the Connor and Lanning National News Group.”

  “Good, you are finally going to move up in the world.” Rod shot his one liner at John.

  “Very nice. Seriously though, he wanted details on the Gabrielle Parker murder.”

  “And what did you tell him?”

  “I didn’t really tell him anything. I told him the things that he could have found out on his own. You know, the things that he probably already knew. Her age, when it happened, and how she was found.”

  “Okay.” Rod said calmly.

  “He was digging for a connection Rod. I thought we were going to have them down here investigating and making a scene.”

  “You know I don’t want anyone down here turning this into a circus. If they call again just feed them some kind of bullshit and I will take care of the rest.”

  “You mean you are going to catch the sick son of a bitch that is doing this?” John said aggressively. “Because, that is the only thing that is going to make this shit stop.”

  “Yes John, I am going to catch this sick son of a bitch.” Rod said back and hung up the phone.

  Obituary:

  Gabrielle Parker 16, Medusa Illinois

  Died suddenly Tuesday. She was a student at Bradbury High School where she participated in several clubs such as the math club and FFA. She is preceded in death by her parents Evelyn and Rick Parker. Donations to the family can be dropped off at the Winston & Sinclair Funeral Home.

  The first weekend after the Parker murder went by smoothly, or at least as smoothly as one could expect. Rod followed his usual routine, Saturday morning he went to work like it was any other day. Even though he was always off by noon, he never took a full Saturday off. He actually rarely missed work at all. Sunday was the only day that you couldn’t find him in his office or on patrol. This wasn’t because he was particularly religious at all; he just felt that everyone deserved a day of rest, even though he felt most comfortable working.

  Saturday afternoon Rod convinced Dusty to play him in a round of golf. Dusty was surprisingly quiet, and never once brought up Gabrielle Parker. But that was okay, because Rod’s mother Shannon made up for it that evening when they had dinner. Like everyone else she was shocked and had all kinds of questions. Most of her questions had to remain unanswered because he just could not tell her.

  “Did dad give you every detail of every case he worked?” Rod asked her.

  “You might have been surprised.” She snapped back at Rod jokingly. She understood that some things had to remain private, but she still couldn’t help but pry.

  After they ate their meal, Rod went to the living room where his father could be found twenty-four hours a day. He took his meals in that very seat and only left to use the bathroom or take a bath. (Which Shannon usually had to trick Ben into doing, but after four years she had become very crafty).

  Ben Truex had been diagnosed with a serious case of dementia. The doctors hadn’t been able to determine what had caused his memory to deteriorate at such a rapid speed. They also could not tell how long it had been affecting him without anyone noticing. Then again, they also never ruled out the possibility that the memory loss could have been caused by something dramatic, that finally took full effect long afterward.

  It was sometimes grueling and always hard for Rod to see his father in this state. Ben Truex had been a strong and respectable man, who always had control over every situation. Some might even say that Ben Truex was larger than life. Then suddenly this proud man was reduced to a state where he could not remember his own son’s name. Of course he had his good days too, but most of the time it was awful.

  Rod sat down on the couch beside his father’s chair. Ben appeared to be mesmerized by Saturday Night Live.

  “Hey Dad.” Rod said quietly.

  Ben was surprised at the sound of Rod’s voice and said nothing more than a tame “Hello”.

  “Good show?”

  “Yeah, I just get a kick out of that Chris Farley.”

  Rod agreed with his father, even though Chris Farley had been dead almost ten years.

  The room grew extremely quiet as the two men sat and watched the program. It was not long before Ben fell asleep in his chair. Rod then quietly snuck out of the house and went home.

  -

  Monday morning Rod was a little more sluggish than usual. After last week he could honestly say that he wasn’t really looking forward to work. He was not prepared for the confusion, the questions, and all the rumors. He of course knew that there was nothing he could do about the rumors, whether he liked it or not.

  Before going to the station that morning, Rod went on a quick patrol route. That was when he saw Freddy Alexander’s Chevy Malibu sitting at Steve Husher’s Garage. Steve Husher’s Garage was one of the three auto repair shops in town, and the one that Rod preferred. Steve was a good mechanic and employed good people. He specialized from everything to regular oil changes to tune ups and even body work. It was easy to guess what type of repair Freddy Alexander’s car needed. Rod decided to pull in and check to see how things were going.

  Just as Rod was about to get out of his vehicle, Steve came walking out from his office.

  “The ole truck doesn’t need an oil change, does she?” Steve asked.

  “Of course not, you know I do that myself.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t screw you out of money or anything Rod.”

  “I know you wouldn’t.” Rod began to answer, but was soon cut off by Steve.

  “Yeah, I guess if you want to know something is done right you have to do it yourself.” Steve said as he lit up a cigarette.

  “I don’t know about that.” Rod replied. “What I really want to know about is that Malibu.”

  “Umm, some Freddy kid owns it, did the paper work on it last night.”

  “Freddy Alexander.” Rod told Steve.

  “That is the one, something wrong?” Steve asked.

  “No, did he say anything about it?”
Rod asked curiously.

  “Not really, he said he hit a dog the other night.”

  Rod now knew that Freddy’s story hadn’t changed at all.

  “I’ve got Shawn down under it, giving her a quick oil change. Isn’t that right Shawn?”

  “That’s right.” A voice answered from under the car.

  “You are doing the body work on it right?”

  “God, that boy keeps causing me trouble. He just acts kind of out of it. I think him and his Mrs. might be having problems.”

  “Who?” Rod asked.

  “Shawn, the kid under the car. He came in last week looking like hell. He said he got in a bar fight. I think he and his Mrs. might be fighting. I sure hope she didn’t do that to him.” Steve said and began laughing loudly.

  “Okay, that is great.” Rod said not knowing or caring how they got on the topic of Shawn the mechanic. Steve was a good guy, and a great mechanic, but he tended to jump around to different topics during conversations.

  “Back to the car, I don’t know what kind of dog this Freddy kid thinks he hit. But it sure as hell couldn’t have been any kind of dog I’ve ever seen.”

  “What do you mean?” Rod asked.

  “I mean that this dog would have had to be huge.” Steve said, then turned to spit on the ground behind him.

  Rod did not say anything else, but agreed with Steve. This was not an accident caused by a dog.

  As the two men leaned up against Rod’s truck and talked, Daniel Montvale slowly walked by. He glared at Rod with fire in his eyes; Rod looked away out of impulse. A feeling of shame came over Rod. Had this punk kid just glared as him and caused him to back down?

  Rod lifted his head back up and stared right back at him.

  There was a chilling moment of silence and Steve noticed the whole thing.

  “What the hell was that?” Steve asked once Daniel was out of sight.

  “I don’t really know.”

  “Listen to me Rod, that boy right there is trouble with a capitol T.” Steve said referring to Daniel. “His daddy was nothing but shit, and he is turning out to be exactly the same.”

  Rod had never met Daniel’s father Chris Montvale, but he had heard stories. One of the infamous stories involved a fake pistol and a bank hold up. Daniel’s father was in and out of trouble, as well as in and out of jail. You could say his Dad had become somewhat of a legend in Medusa. It just wasn’t the kind of legacy you’d want to leave for your offspring.

  Rod agreed with Steve and both men went on their separate ways. Stopping at the shop might not have been the most beneficial thing to do, but Rod wanted to do it. It felt as if it needed to be done, as if something were telling him to look a little bit closer. Obviously Rod’s instincts were working for him better than he realized.

  Back at the station, Clara was reading another romance novel and had very little to say. There was an awful sense of sadness felt through most of the people in Medusa. Everyone in town felt so bad for poor Gabrielle and her parents. The Main Street Café and Sheila’s Bar and Grill both planned on holding benefits to raise money for the service. The situation was dreadful, but Rod was glad that the people came together in this way. It made him proud of his town, not that he wasn’t already.

  Despite how much the morning seemed to drag and left Rod empty, noon came fairly quickly. As Rod walked down the street to have lunch at The Main Street Café he was stopped by a stranger. The stranger was a tall man, dressed in a gray suite, with a fedora perched atop his head. He walked with graceful strides that seem to suit him very well. Clinging to his arm, but still a few steps behind was a redheaded woman in a yellow and white dress.

  “You must be Mr. Truex.” He said in a thick British accent, as he extended his hand.

  “I can tell you are not from around here.” Rod said and immediately realized how rural and uncivilized this man must think he sounds.

  “Why yes, I must apologize my parents were from Great Britain. I, on the other hand, was raised in upstate New York.”

  “Well that certainly is no New York accent, it is Brit through and through. By the way, what did you say your name was?” Rod continued.

  “I didn’t. My name is Bartholomew Wadd.”

  Rod couldn’t help but notice how eccentric and dapper Mr. Wadd seemed to be.

  “I am an author, and I’m currently working on my fifth murder mystery.”

  “I see.” Rod said assuming he knew where the rest of the conversation was going.

  “Please, judging by your tone I assume that you think that I am only here because of the recent and unfortunate event that occurred in your fine town. But, that could not be further from the truth. I purchased a cabin on the east end of town four months ago. I have been living here for two weeks already. I have no interest in your current events.”

  “I understand.” Rod replied.

  “I only plan on making an appearance in your town once or twice a week. I like my privacy while I write, which is why I bought my cabin. This area, your fine town included, is quite peaceful. I hope to accomplish a great deal, I only want to introduce myself to you, simply to let you be aware of my presence.”

  Rod was astonished by how forward and upfront Mr. Wadd was. Never in his life had someone spoken to him so sternly, yet so eloquently at the same time.

  “That sounds perfectly fine. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

  “Good day.” Mr. Wadd said and he continued on down the side walk.

  Rod turned around to see Mr. Wadd and his lady friend, (whom he did not introduce) walking away. It was then that Rod noticed Wadd’s female companion’s shapely, well rounded bottom. A thousand thoughts ran through Rod’s mind in a second. He thought of Marcy and a feeling of guilt emerged from the pit of his stomach. This feeling coursed up and over his entire body. He felt worthless. He no longer felt very hungry and definitely did not want anything from The Main Street Café.

  Besides he had work to do. He would eat later.

  -

  Later that afternoon, Rod sat down with Ricky and Evelyn Parker to discuss their daughter, and the events that preceded her death. It was obvious that they loved their daughter very much. Both of them took a great deal of interest in her activities. She received good grades and was an outstanding track athlete. The only unpleasant thing that they had to say was related to her relationship with Owen Kelly. Neither parent cared for him, and hoped that she would have found someone else. Ricky did not come out and say it, but it was kind of clear that he was already holding Kelly responsible. The scowl that came over Ricky’s face when the name was mentioned made this more than obvious.

  It was starting to seriously look like Rod was going to have to bring Owen in for questioning. Rod understood this, but didn’t like the idea especially since he himself didn’t feel that Owen was guilty. After the interview Rod asked for Ricky and Evelyn’s permission to take a look at Gabrielle’s room. Despite being a little hesitant, they both agreed to let him. They of course followed close behind.

  Gabrielle’s bedroom was exactly what Rod had expected a typical teenage girl’s bedroom to look like. It was brightly lit and covered with posters.

  “I come in here every day.” Evelyn said despondently. “It is almost as if I think she is just going to come home and head straight for her bedroom.”

  Evelyn’s words were terrible and gave Rod unexpected emotions he hadn’t ever felt before. Rod was already deeply involved with this case, but now it was touching him on a personal level. He hadn’t wanted to be this attached, but now he was. He had to mentally remind himself that he was the Sheriff. He could not let himself get too attached. He hadn’t gotten this close to the murder five years ago, so why now?

  Rod knew exactly why, because this time it was different. This time the people looked at him differently, he was in charge now. And by god he better do the best job that he can do.

  Rod noticed a small pink book sitting on a dresser, it was Gabrielle’s diary. He immediately picked it up.
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  “Mind if I take this?” Rod asked the grieving parents.

  Evelyn automatically said yes, but Ricky protested. He quickly stopped when Evelyn gave him a cold stare.

  “I guess if it is going to help you figure things out, then yes. Take it.” Ricky said timidly.

  -

  When Rod left the Parker residence, he drove down Hawthorne Street; he then took a left on Chestnut. It didn’t seem to be intentional, but he was driving to the park. When he got there he parked his truck beside the basketball court. As he walked through the court he couldn’t help but notice how desperately it was in need of help. The paint was faded on the court and the hoop was in shambles. The city had a sufficient amount of funds available, someone could have put some money into the park, He thought. Thinking about the current state of the park was only a small distraction. The truth was that he felt that he was letting this whole situation get under his skin, it was to the point that he felt like he could break.

  “You are stronger than this.” Rod told himself, but it probably didn’t help that his predecessor retired during a similar situation. Rod wasn’t going to walk away, what kind of message would that send? Rod hadn’t even thought about doing such a thing, it was just the pressure that was starting to build up around him. Maybe someday soon he would take a ride out and see Hank and ask him for some advice. It wasn’t like Hank probably wouldn’t enjoy the company; Rod hadn’t seen him since he retired and often wondered how he spent his time now.

  As he walked further through the park, Rod glanced down to his phone to see that he had another text message from Marcy. It had been sent more than four hours ago. It was a little late to reply now.

  Rod took in a deep breath of the chilly air. It would be fall soon. People were already talking about how bad the winter was supposedly going to be, as they did every year around that time. He walked near the spot where they had found Gabrielle Parker’s body.

  “What is happening to my town?” Rod asked himself as he watched his misty breath leave his mouth and float away into the dark evening sky.