Shadows in the White City

by Robert W. Walker

  “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 hi
m as to why he’s done this.”

  “Officially, we say learn what possible motive set all this in motion.”

  “Good luck, my friend, but beware the truth.”

  Ransom reacted with a deep glare into Philo’s eyes. “Waste no time putting distance between Chicago and the ladies. Off to Mackinaw, and tell no one your destination.”

  “Promise.”

  “And try…try to explain to Jane and Gabby for me, please.”

  “No one is likely to applaud your actions, Ransom.”

  “I want no applause, nor expect absolution afterward.”

  “How long then until we might expect to hear from you?”

  “As long as it takes. Look…look at him, sitting atop his cab now, moving off as if…so damn smug.”

  “I suppose even if you could get the goods on him, it would take a long time to see justice done, and they’d likely give him a suite at Straight-jacket Academy.”

  “Cook County Asylum, where at everyone’s expense Christian Fenger will be his keeper to study him like a zoological wonder.”

  “And what justice for the dead?”

  The question hung in the air between the two men, both of whom had lost people they’d loved to the fiend.

  “You naive wonder, Philo.”

  “Naive? How so?”

  “Whenever have you seen real justice meted out?”

  “I—I…dunno, really.”

  “You haven’t. Few have! When does it happen? True justice found in this life?”

  As he spoke, Ransom had watched Denton take on a new fare. The hansom cab carrying a new passenger from this section of the fair to another with Waldo Denton sitting taller, prouder atop it. Alastair then saw Chief Kohler closely watching Ransom’s reaction to facing his dead partner. Kohler had been made curious of the whispers passing between Ransom and the former suspect, Philo Keane. What scheme is Nathan now hatching?

  Philo asked, “What do you want, Rance?”

  “What do I want?”

  “Yes, in the best possible world?”

  Ransom shook inside with what he wanted as an outcome. He walked in a small circle, contemplating the depth of his hatred for the so-called Phantom. His new wolf’s-head cane tapped at the pavement like small-caliber fire.

  Finally, Ransom answered his friend. “What do I want to see happen? Eye for eye, tooth for tooth. And it shall come to pass in a time of my choosing.”

  Just then Dr. Tewes himself stood alongside Ransom, pushing between him and Philo. She saw Griffin Drimmer’s body being eased down by Shanks and Gwinn, and she saw Dr. Christian Fenger crossing himself where he stood alongside as the body was laid on a stretcher. Fenger leaned in so close, while the county prosecutor, Hiram Kehoe, stood off to one side, whispering in Nathan Kohler’s ear. Carmichael, the Herald reporter, and a small army of others of his profession were crawling all over this new fresh kill, headlines in their eyes: the phantom returns. A spectacular return it was, too, and obviously meant to strike at Ransom.

  Something about the scene reminded Jane of a crucifixion and a sacrifice, as though it had been inevitable that young Griffin give up his life on the altar of these men’s egos and their political wrangling, and to some degree she could not help but blame Alastair Ransom as well. The war between him and Nathan Kohler had brought this about, and young Griff had died a horrible death as a result of their petty differences and the hatred between Ransom and Kohler—which after all had contributed to Denton’s release.

  Her voice broke when she shouted, “This is all your faults! All of you!”

  She pulled from Alastair’s attempted touch meant to calm Dr. Tewes here in public. She saw that he wanted to console her, take her in his arms and hold her.

  She rushed off after her own carriage, and he looked for Gabrielle to be hanging from the window, giving Ransom a slight wave of one hand, two fingers extended as was her habit, but Gabby did not appear. Perhaps young Gabby was the only one in the city who truly did not judge him…up till now. If she were with Jane, perhaps Gabby could not face him, knowing that Griffin had been killed just after taking his place.

  “Follow Tewes, Philo. Convince him that he must get his women out of the city.”

  “You’d have me baby-sitting Dr. Tewes as well?”

  “Tewes as well, yes! Tell Tewes that I confided in you everything. She will understand.”

  “You mean he will understand, don’t you?”

  “Philo, just do it.”

  “Of course. But how safe are you with those jackals there?” His eyes indicated Kehoe, Kohler, and Carmichael. “And when did Carmichael stop being a reporter and turn into a lackey?”

  “Philo…go. Pack a few things and quietly get them down to the train station and out of harm’s way. If I’m right, it could’ve been any one of you left disfigured and dangling here.”

  “But if you’re right about Denton, and what you say about his infatuation with Gabrielle Tewes is correct, then—”

  “No! I will not use her to bait this monster. Now do as I bloody well said!”

  “All right, all right, calm down.” Philo finally started off for his assignment.

  “Use the girl for bait,” Ransom muttered. The awful idea had crossed his mind but was at once instantly rejected. It’d be like using his own daughter to lure a fiend out of hiding. He would not place her in such jeopardy, and if left in the city much longer, she would likely come to think of doing just that on her own. No, he must relocate her and her mother to a far place.

  Like a patient, all-knowing wolf, at the right moment he would pounce on Denton and tear him to pieces with his bare hands, his bear claws. He would send Denton out of this world and to the Hades from which he’d come, but first he would know why Denton killed as he did, and what possible personal connection they had—why the vendetta aimed at him from the beginning?

  From the beginning he’d planned on killing his Polly-Merielle and of framing Philo Keane, the two people closest to Ransom—and now this. Killing young Griff and shoving it into Ransom’s face. Public humiliation and private punishment for what wrongs, he could not know for certain, but he’d begun to approach a damned good guess.

  He slid to the stones of the Science and Industry Pavilion, one of the few permanent structures built here at the fair, one that would remain forever as a marker and a reminder of the greatest fair the city had ever known. He knew he must sit now or else go to his knees, and he chose to allow no one to see him on his knees, not to this fiend—not a second time.

  CHAPTER 5

  Gabrielle was suddenly standing before the seated Inspector Ransom on the pavilion steps below an intense sun. Griffin’s body had been hauled off, but the stain of where his remains had been defiled remained nearby. “Inspector Drimmer requested this information, sir, and learning that he…that he is…no longer among us…well, I know he was working in close tandem with you, Inspector.”

  “Gabby?” He looked up from where he sat on the hot steps of the museum pavilion. His face telegraphed how stunned he was to see her. “I thought you were in the carriage with your mother. I asked Philo to get the two of you out of the city for a few days while…until there’s an end to this madness.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, and I doubt my mother would agree to it either. She called me at the Des Plaines station house—”

  “Called for you at my station house?”

  “Yes, I’ve a job there now.” She handed him one manila file while holding back a second.

  “Wait, hold on…what…Just what’re you doing with an official police report?” He waved the papers she’d handed him. “And what’re you doing here?”

  “Look…look at the report, Inspector.”

  Ransom read the official police report. It was a list of aliases for a name he had hoped never to see again, Campaneua.

  “Who put you up to this?” His voice startled her.

  “I told you. Inspector Drimmer. He requested it last night over the phone.”


  “And since when do you take police calls and—”

  “Chief Nathan Kohler hired me on the spot when I went to talk to him about working for the Chicago Police Department while I get my degree in pathology through Rush Medical College, working with Dr. Fenger. Dr. Fenger provided me with a wonderful recommendation.”

  “Christian sent you into that lair of Kohler’s?”

  “If you mean the man’s office, yes. Dr. Fenger believes in me.”

  “OK, OK.” He began studying the list. “There’s an arrest here of a year ago of a Campaneua, just south of the city, Joliet, but he was sent on his way.”

  “To Chicago…or so he told Joliet authorities.”

  A gasp escaped Ransom. “The alias they have on him. Walter Dunston.”

  “Yes, not far from Waldo Denton.”

  “And if he is really a Campaneua, then he has come to kill me.”

  Gabby looked curiously at him when he said this. “If so, he’s botched the job like a poor marksman.”

  “Agreed…killing everyone around me, purposefully missing me, dragging it out.”

  “He’s decided you should suffer.”

  “Suffer long and hard before he kills me.”

  “It would appear so.”

  “Does Kohler know about this?” He indicated the police report.

  “No.”

  “Anyone? Did you tell anyone of it?”

  “No, but I will tell Mother. You know Jane and I share everything.”

  He nodded, understanding. “Get to her. Make her promise as you promise to me now that you tell no one of this. I will handle things from here.”

  “It—it has to do with Haymarket…has from the start, hasn’t it?”

  “I killed a man, or rather a number of us coppers killed a man named Campaneua while attempting to get information from him.”

  She looked stricken. “Then the rumors are true?”

  “It was in order to save lives, I thought at the time.”

  “But if Denton is Campaneua’s relative and out to get you…why’d he kill Cliffton Purvis, who had no connection to you…not to mention other victims with no connection to you? People you didn’t even know. Why?”