Where's the Rest of the Body

by Ron Finch

  “I think, from what you just heard from Cst. Herman, the search at the land registry office has not been a waste of time,” said Chief Petrovic. “So for a few days we are going to change the focus of the farm searches. Peter will continue working with Stan, searching titles only in the mornings. In the afternoons, he will be on regular duties, helping me and answering local police calls as required. You other three will continue with the farm searches. But for the next few days you are to concentrate on the three farms with abattoirs and on the two farms where fires have destroyed houses.”

  The rest of us could see from Cst. Herman’s face that he was very disappointed that he would not be going out on farm searches yet.

  Monday, February 13th

  “LET’S HEAR YOUR REPORTS,” said Chief Petrovic. “I’ll start with Cst. Herman. He doesn’t seem to be happy with what he’s accomplished this past week.”

  “He has been grumpy,” said Cst. Smith.

  “I’m just disappointed with myself,” said Cst. Herman. “Stan and I haven’t found anything new at the registry office and I miss being part of the team out on the farm searches.”

  “That sounds like your report,” said Chief Petrovic.

  Cst. Herman smiled and said, “It was. I basically have nothing to report.”

  “Who wants to go to next?” asked the chief.

  “I’ll give you the abattoir report,” said Jay. “It’s very similar to Peter’s report. However, a bit of explanation might be helpful. Not only did we do the abattoirs, but we did the attached farms as well. We quickly realized that so much blood has been shed in those abattoirs that we will never be able to determine anything that happened years ago, and probably not even a month ago. It’s a dead end.”

  “Do you other fellows share Jay’s conclusion?” asked the chief.

  Cst. Smith and I nodded in agreement.

  It was my turn next. Cst. Smith and I had drawn the duty of searching the Featherstone farm. Everyone looked at me, hoping my report would be more interesting than the previous two reports.

  It would be. Cst. Jake Smith and I had been out to the Featherstone farm Friday afternoon. We had not started on the land yet, but we had taken a look at what remained of the house. We also had time to look at the other outbuildings. They were still intact and being used. Only the large home had been destroyed by the fire. When we returned to the chief’s office late Friday afternoon, we had a brief discussion with Chief Petrovic about what we had found on the site. The chief was already aware of what I was going to report.

  “Jake and I were unable to complete the search of the buildings and the land on Friday,” I said. “However, we did have time to take a look at what was left of the house. There’s not much there. The place burned down in 1911. Time and the weather have not improved the site. It was quickly apparent to us that we would not learn anything new from what was left of the home. So we started on the outbuildings. They are still in use. I think anything out of place in those outbuildings would’ve been noticed and immediately reported to us. To be thorough, Jake and I did the inspection and saw nothing of interest.

  “We were getting ready to leave when Jake noticed there was a bit of a rise in the land about fifty yards behind the house. He said to me: ‘That doesn’t look like a natural hill. It looks like someone has artificially piled up earth there. And it’s not a ramp because it’s not going anywhere. Seems out of place to me. Let’s go take a look.’ I followed Jake over to the mound.

  “We were both surprised by what we found. It wasn’t just a pile of earth. When we got close to it we could see that it was a small, cabin-like structure with a door on the east side. We couldn’t get the door open because there is quite a bit of earth in front of it. It will take a great deal of shoveling to get into that small building. I had never seen anything like it before, but Jake said his grandpa had something like it on his farm. Jake said his grandpa used it for cold storage. So we decided to take a walk around the building before we left for the day. Jake take over.”

  Cst. Jake Smith cleared his throat and said, “When we got around to the other side of the structure, we noticed some large animal had dug a hole to get to the wall of the building. The wall was made of wood, and there was a hole in the wall. We could see very little from where we were, but we could see ice inside. Joel and I also noticed lots of tracks leading from that hole out across the fields. They looked like dog tracks to us. It was getting close to five and almost dark, so we headed back to town and reported in to the chief.”

  Chief Petrovic looked around. He could tell everyone was excited. He could tell they could hardly wait to get back to the Featherstone farm to continue the search.

  “Tomorrow is a special day,” said the Chief Petrovic. “All of us are going to practice the art of digging. It won’t be easy to clear the dirt away from the door of that structure. It’s winter, and the ground is frozen, so we will need to use picks, most likely. We will meet here at 9 o’clock tomorrow morning. I want you all to bring a shovel and a pick and bring the gear that we usually take on a farm search. If we don’t finish by noon we will stop for lunch and go to Mabel’s diner. I’ll pay.”

  GEORGIE AND I HAD BEEN invited to Gwen Cummings’s home for supper. This was a total surprise to us. We didn’t know Gwen Cummings but we were curious. Our invitation had included Gwen’s address and had ended with her signature and the notation ‘a secret admirer’. She lived on the southern edge of Chaseford in a modest story-and-a-half home.

  The woman that opened the door was petite. She had curly hair and Georgie told me later she had guessed her to be in her early 50s. Gwen welcomed us in. She had us hang up our coats and hats and take off our winter boots.

  “I wasn’t sure whether to contact you or not,” she said. “You know I have lived with my secret for a long time. I wasn’t sure I wanted to share it with anyone. I have made an effort to find out a bit about both of you. From idle conversation with people I know, and even from the nice gentleman who runs the store where I buy groceries.” She smiled at me when she said that. “I felt very confident about inviting you to my home after listening to what people had to say about each of you.”

  While she was talking, Georgie and I looked at each other with a knowing glance. We were quite certain we knew who Gwen Cummings was.

  She smiled at us and said, “Yes, I’m that other person that has the same special ability that you have, Joel. I am Gwen Cummings and I’m very pleased to meet you and Georgie. When you both went to such lengths to protect my privacy during the crisis with Cst. Herman, and then didn’t attempt to locate me afterward, I knew you were people I could trust. Living with a secret isn’t easy.”

  I nodded in agreement.

  “I’ve had this talent for as long as I can remember,” she continued. “When I was young, my parents attributed my comments to a vivid imagination. But as I became a teenager, I realized I couldn’t let anyone know that I could contact someone they couldn’t see. As a result, it’s limited my friendships and I’ve never married.

  “I wanted to have this meeting so that I could learn more about both of you and about Joel’s abilities. I also wanted to know about your contact, Joel, and I thought I would tell you about my contact. I thought it was also necessary to include Georgie as well. I know you don’t have our ability, Georgie, but you know about us and you don’t think we’re crazy. So you are someone else we can both talk to.

  “But let’s have supper. We can start our conversation while we’re eating. I prepared a chicken dinner with mashed potatoes, some carrots from the cold cellar, and some of my special pickled beets. I baked a chocolate cake for dessert. I heard somewhere that it was Joel’s favourite dessert.”

  We sat at the table and as we ate we talked.

  “I think I was born with this special ability,” said Gwen. “From listening to my dad talk about his mother, I think she may have had this ability too. Many people thought grandma was just a bit strange.”

  “I’m the f
irst one in our family to have this kind of ability,” I said. “I wasn’t born with this power to communicate with a deceased person. I was struck by lightning during the big storm of 1928. That stimulated something in my brain and immediately gave me this talent.”

  “That was a terrible storm,” said Gwen. “I was fortunate I was out of town that weekend, visiting my aunt Agatha in London. But when I came back to Chaseford late Sunday evening I was upset by all the destruction I saw.

  “The human brain must naturally have the capacity to do this kind of communication,” said Gwen. “I can understand inheriting the ability, but when you suffered electrical trauma and could then communicate this way it implies to me that everyone must have this latent potential.”

  “I think it’s a possibility,” I said, “but I’m not certain we’ll find a volunteer who’s willing to get struck by lightning to test out the theory.”

  We all laughed.

  “Let’s leave that for now. I want to tell you about my contact,” said Gwen.

  At this point I interrupted and said, “My contact Walter and I use the word ‘essence’.”

  “I like that word,” said Gwen. “My contact’s name is Floyd. He lived in the house next door. The end of his life was a tragedy. It ended horrifically.”

  Gwen told us she had not had many adventures with Floyd until she became an important part in the rescue of Cst. Herman from the Conrad farm. Until then, the most significant event that had occurred happened when her parents’ home caught fire and Floyd woke her so that she was able to alert her parents. The fire department put out the blaze without much damage.

  I told Gwen all about Walter’s and my involvement in bringing justice to Louise Carter after she was murdered. This, of course, was a surprise to Gwen but she was really pleased and excited that someone like me or her, with this special ability, had been so helpful.

  “I sometimes wondered if my gift was a curse that set me apart from other people,” said Gwen. “But now that I’ve been involved in a situation where a life was saved, and I’ve learned of another case where justice was served, I feel much more comfortable with myself.

  “I’ve done a lot of reading and thinking about having an ability that is not ordinary,” she said. “I certainly don’t believe some of the claims by people like Edgar Cayce, but I do believe that I’m different and that you are different, Joel. I also believe that, just as one’s language skills can improve, our unique ability may be capable of growth.”

  Georgie and I looked at her. “I’m not sure what you mean,” I said. “I think you will have to explain to me what you are after.”

  “Do you know what telepathy is?” she asked.

  The three of us spent the rest of the evening debating whether or not telepathy was possible and how we could go about conducting experiments to see if it was.

  Tuesday, February 14th

  IT WAS ONE OF THOSE bright, cold, calm February days. The sky was a robin’s egg blue and the bright sun, although not yet high in the sky, seemed to give everything a sharp outline. The five of us had arrived at the Featherstone farm at about 9:30. Chief Petrovic and Cst. Herman had driven out in the Ford Radio Motor Patrol car. Jay and I had been driven to the Featherstone farm by Cst. Smith in the 1932 Ford pickup truck. The police department was fortunate to have the truck. It had been donated by a wealthy local merchant and proved to be useful from time to time. Today we had a large sled in the back as well as our picks and shovels and some large burlap bags.

  We got out of our vehicles and carried our picks and shovels over to the mysterious mound. From the distance it looked like a huge snowdrift, but when you got close to it you could easily make out the cabin-like structure, almost hidden under the snow.

  We did one complete circuit of the cabin, noting the hole in the back wall and the disturbances in the snow created by animal activity. The building appeared to be about 10 feet wide and 14 feet long. It had a slanted roof, and the low side wall facing the house was about 6 feet tall. The other wall, furthest from the house, appeared to be about 8 feet tall. It was easy to understand that, once the snow had blown in around it, and with the short wall closest to the back of the house, it could easily be mistaken for a snowdrift if you didn’t take a closer look.

  We returned to the front of the building to examine the partially buried door. There was quite a bit of earth in front of it and the dirt appeared to have been there for many years. That helped to explain why no one had bothered with the building. It would take considerable time and effort to clear the earth away. With Chief Petrovic in the role of supervisor, we set to work with our picks and shovels. There was only enough room for one of us to work at a time. That was good, because even in the frigid weather the man with the pick quickly worked up a sweat and tired himself out. The earth was frozen hard and the picks got a good workout.

  In a little over an hour we had the area in front of the door cleaned out and had amassed a respectable pile of dirt. The chief stepped forward to open the door. It wouldn’t open. That, in itself, was not a surprise. It probably had not been opened for many years.

  Chief Petrovic turned to Cst. Smith and said: “Hand me your pick.”

  Just before the chief swung the pick, Cst. Jay Jarvis said, “Shouldn’t you knock first?”

  For some reason, we all found that really funny. Everyone burst into laughter. Well, everyone but the chief.

  All Chief Petrovic said was, “Jay, I see a lot of unpleasant duties ahead of you.”

  The door splintered easily on the first blow. The chief and Cst. Herman removed most of the pieces of the door and tossed them in a second pile out of the way in the snow. Chief Petrovic said, “Joel, light the kerosene lantern and hand it to me, please.”

  I lit the lantern and passed it to Chief Petrovic. He stepped through the opening and we heard him exclaim, “For heaven sakes, this is an ice house.”

  I had not been in an ice house before. The iceman had always delivered ice for our icebox at home and ice for the freezer ice boxes at our grocery store. I had watched him come along the street, with his team of horses pulling a big wagon full of large blocks of ice. I even talked to the iceman a couple of times. I was surprised at how easily he used those large tongs to move the ice from his wagon to whatever icebox he was going to. I knew there was a large storage shed in town full of ice blocks, but I had never given much thought to how ice got to the farms. I don’t think every farm had an ice house, but the Featherstones had been very well off.

  We followed Chief Petrovic through the door, but he had stopped rather suddenly and the rest of us found ourselves crowded together just inside. The light from the kerosene lamp reflecting from the contents of the building produced an eerie effect. There were still a great many blocks of ice stored in this structure, though it wasn’t as full as it would have been when they had first packed the ice in. We stood there and stared. This was not what we had expected.

  Suddenly Cst. Herman pointed, and, in a voice more high-pitched than usual, said, “I think that’s a body back in the corner.”

  It was.

  “Jay, go back out to the truck and bring the sled,” said the chief. “We’re going to need it.”

  As the chief moved cautiously along the side aisle towards the back of the icehouse we heard a loud growl.

  “Don’t worry, it’s just a German shepherd,” said the chief, “and I’ve got my pick.” He swung the pick menacingly and the dog turned and quickly scampered out the hole in the back of the ice house.

  There was a narrow space along the rear wall of the building where we found an assortment of body parts scattered about. It was a grisly scene, though it was obvious that the remains had been there a long time. Because of the cold temperature in the ice house, and the time that had passed, there wasn’t much of an odour, but the appearance of severed chunks of human bodies caused all of us to feel nauseated.

  Jay came back with the sled and we loaded it up with burlap bags containing two torsos, two a
rms, two legs and a head.

  “If you add what we found today to what we’ve recovered previously, I think the total is two bodies,” said the chief. There was a grim expression on his face. “The forensics lab in Toronto will have to give us confirmation, but I strongly suspect that we may have recovered the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Featherstone. Right now, it appears that they were murdered and dismembered. I also strongly suspect that the house fire was arson. Because of the amount of time that’s elapsed, this probably will be a lengthy and difficult investigation.

  “For the time being, I think we’ll try to conduct this investigation without the aid of the London police force. Cst. Smith and Cst. Herman gained a lot of valuable experience and proved their worth in the investigation of Louise Carter’s murder.

  “Let’s get the truck loaded and get back to town so we can deliver these body parts to Dr. Whittles.”

  Wednesday, February 22nd

  CHIEF PETROVIC HAD postponed his Monday morning meeting until Wednesday. He said Dr. Whittles had told him that the forensics people in Toronto would likely get a report back to him on the body parts by Tuesday afternoon at the latest. Farm searches had been postponed for the time being. With the discovery of the body parts in the icehouse on the Featherstone farm, and the subsequent story in the local paper, people living in the area of Chaseford and the surrounding countryside had been put at ease. Even though it had been made clear to the public previously that the body parts discovered earlier were from many years ago, the public had still felt somewhat threatened. Now they could relax.

  Chief Petrovic started the meeting by discussing the report that he’d received via Dr. Whittles from the forensics lab in Toronto. He said that, to the best of their knowledge, the forensic pathologists concluded that all the body parts came from only two bodies. Analysis indicated that one body was that of an older male, and the other body was that of an older female. They were unable to determine the ages exactly. There was also no way to determine with any certainty that the bodies were those of Mr. and Mrs. Featherstone.