Scarecrow of 1889
Chapter 19: At the morgue

Chapter 19: At the morgue

Sylvester recounted his past week, and he then replied, "The owner of the Frontier Opera House sent me and my crew to Corby to help another opera house. I spoke to my mother when I was in the lodge."

"And what did you talk about? Did she mention anyone following her? Anyone who might have threatened her?" Addison pressed on.

Sylvester shook his head solemnly before speaking, "We were discussing our plans for New Year’s Eve. She mentioned that she was going to help one of her neighbours who wanted to go out and needed someone to look after their child. She never hinted at anything suspicious or threatening. But there is something."

"Yes, Mr. Crowley?" Addison questioned, his interest piqued.

"Over the past few months, I’ve had this feeling like I’m being followed. There have been break-ins at my apartment, and I even reported it to the parish house," Sylvester explained, noticing the detective’s pause in writing.

"And did you catch sight of this intruder?" Addison inquired.

"No. I have never been able to find out who it is. I had to even change my locks, and this time the person came through the window last night. I think the person came for me," Sylvester wondered who the sick person was, who had entered his apartment through the window. He remembered the faint traces of water droplets near his bed, making him wonder if the intruder had stood there watching him sleep. Before Addison could interject, Sylvester added, "Nothing was stolen, and I haven’t been physically harmed."

Not yet, he thought.

"Is there anyone who might have had a grudge against your mother or yourself?" Addison questioned further.

"It’s hard to say," Sylvester replied with a sigh. "My mother, being a stage actress, had her fair share of admirers and rivals. I didn’t interact much with them as I’ve been preoccupied with my work."

"But someone has been keeping an eye on you," Detective Addison pointed out, his expression grave, to which Sylvester could only nod in agreement. "The thing is, Mr. Crowley," Addison continued, "this particular case of the scarecrow has been targeting women. If the person who intruded into your house and the person who killed your mother are one and the same, they might have come just to observe you. Is there any safe place you can stay for a while?"

"I have my sister, but she lives far away," Sylvester replied, just as his sister arrived with her husband right behind her.

"Vester!" Elizabeth exclaimed, hurrying over with wide eyes. "I received a call early this morning. How did this happen?! Are you alright?" she asked before embracing him in a hug.

The hug was brief and slightly awkward, considering they hadn’t hugged each other in years. But this also reminded him of the last time they had hugged, which was when their father had passed away.

"I am..." Sylvester didn’t complete the sentence as his mind was still distorted.

"Where is she?" his older sister asked with a deep worry marring her face.

As Sylvester turned toward the door, Elizabeth took a shaky breath before slowly making her way to it, her husband following closely behind. After a few tense seconds, she emerged from the room, her hand flying to cover her mouth in shock and her eyes watery. Speechless and visibly frightened, she struggled to find the words to express the horror of what she had just witnessed.

Her husband guided her to sit down, who wore a terrified face himself. He said, "Let me go and get you some water. I will be back soon."

Sylvester could tell that his brother-in-law had a hard time stomaching his mother’s appearance like the rest of them. When the detective looked at his sister, he informed, "This is my older sister Elizabeth Button. She lives an hour away from Riddleford."

"Addison!" the sergeant arrived at the scene, and the detective was pulled away from them.

Elizabeth spoke in a hushed whisper, "I never thought she would die like this. What did the officers say?"

"Nothing so far. The detective only asked some questions. Beth, the last time you spoke to Mother, did you hear her say anything odd? Or did you notice anything odd happen around you," Sylvester’s voice lowered as he asked this.

"Odd around me?" Elizabeth asked with a frown. "What do you mean, Vester?"

"Beth, I feel like I’ve been stalked for the past few months. At work, when I come back home—it feels like someone’s watching my every move," Sylvester confessed, his frustration evident as he spoke. He felt a deep sense of mistrust toward everyone, except for his sister, who was now his only family.

"Did you mention this to the detective?" Elizabeth inquired, concern etched in her features as she listened to her brother’s words.

Sylvester nodded solemnly. "Yes, I did. He’s going to look into it."

Sitting side by side, Sylvester and Elizabeth shared a moment of silent understanding.

"I haven’t felt anyone following me, Vester. But I’ll be vigilant," Elizabeth assured him, her voice tinged with determination. "Do you want to come home? Get some rest?"

"No, I’m fine," Sylvester replied with a forced smile, though his eyes betrayed his unease. He didn’t want to bring trouble to his sister, especially now.

Outside the building, the inspector, sergeant, and Addison convened, their expressions grim.

"Reinhart said the murderer wouldn’t strike until the next crescent moon. We still have five more days!" Sergeant Gruger exclaimed, his frustration apparent.

"Where is she?" he demanded, turning to Addison.

"Miss Jane isn’t in town, Sergeant Gruger. Her caretaker passed away, and she’s gone to her caretaker’s hometown in Stirling," Addison reported with a respectful nod. "And—"

"There’s no train ride to Stirling. One will need to take a carriage," the inspector sighed, pressing his temples because of this notorious murderer. "When did she leave?"

"Three days ago," Addison informed.

"I don’t see the point of waiting for Miss Reinhart, not like her findings have been of any use," Sergeant Gruger huffed. "According to them, all the dolls are exhausted and no other murder can happen after this. Ain’t that right, Addison? We don’t need their help anymore."

Addison pursed his lips because he knew that Sergeant Gruger wanted Miss Jane and him off the case.

"Let me continue to make notes, inspector. I am sure more helping hands might solve at least some part of the case," Addison spoke in favour of his employer, knowing if Miss Jane was here, she would have tried to find something amiss in this new murdered victim.

"Do what you got to do, Addison. And if you can, get Miss Reinhart here as quick as possible. The commissioner won’t be happy that she’s away from the case. Go now," the inspector dismissed the detective, who quickly nodded and made his way to the victim’s children, who were inside the building.

"Do you think they are going to crack something, inspector?" Sergeant Gruger asked his senior, who rolled his eyes.

"They have shown themselves to be useless. All their theories are wrong, this whole scarecrow story is baseless. Contact the parish house in Peterborough and get the needed details. The commissioner is going to want answers, and we have none! Bloody hell!" The inspector seemed frustrated. "Delilah Swan isn’t any woman, but a woman whose death is going to stir towns and people. If people didn’t raise questions before, they will now."

"I will go check if the operator can trace the trunk calls made and to whom from the Swan residence, sir," Sergeant Gruger informed, and the inspector nodded. "And send my men to see if she had visitors and also question her children."

The following day, Sylvester and his sister found themselves subjected to a barrage of questions that felt as invasive as if they were the murderers. Interrogated and scrutinised, they were finally released from the harrowing ordeal.

Meanwhile, as Jane made her way back to Riddleford after laying Martha to rest in Stirling, a newspaper found its way into her hands. With a sinking feeling, she read the headline: "DELILAH SWAN FOUND MURDERED IN HER HOME. ANOTHER VICTIM CLAIMED BY THE SCARECROW. STAGE ACTRESS LAID TO REST IN ST. LINCOLN PARK."

"What in the world?" Jane muttered under her breath, her eyes glued to the distressing words on the page.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not yet at least. She had been certain the murderer would strike during the cresecent moon and not before it. What had changed?