The Last Ritual Page 9

He lay on his back in a glistening red pool. Arms and legs stretched wide like a stranded starfish, with one key difference: his missing body part would never regenerate. The crimson stain spreading underneath him crept to the edge of the stairs. It was a hard struggle whether to stare at him or to look away. I was transfixed and repulsed in equal measure.

  Could this be a particularly well-staged Halloween prank? A bit of artful drama?

  The raggedy flesh, the glistening ring of exposed cervical spine told me, “No.”

  This was not a clever prank.

  My stomach lurched a little then, and the whiskey inside wasn’t helping. Looking away, I found myself observing Nina’s face as she comprehended the extent of the horror we had stumbled upon. Her unblinking eyes. Mouth falling open, then the sharp intake of breath.

  “What the hell…?”

  I was about to suggest we go back the way we came, when it occurred to me that the executioner of the unfortunately deceased individual on the floor might still be in the room with us. I did not want to offer the killer my unguarded back.

  I swiveled around, my nerves on highest alert.

  But I saw no one.

  As I stated, the room was large. But it was also open and uncluttered by much furniture. An attacker would have had trouble finding a hiding place, unless they were a contortionist or very, very small. Nevertheless, when I located a switch on the wall, I quickly turned it.

  Nothing happened.

  Then I remembered the electricity was out in the library. Were these rooms on the same circuit? And had that circuit been cut here, intentionally, in preparation for the act of murder? Despite the impediment of unavoidable darkness, I knew exactly where we were.

  Above the body loomed the observatory’s most famous attraction, its huge refractor telescope; like a giant metal finger, the narrow end pointed at the headless body. Next to the body stood a wheeled set of steps which the Miskatonic astronomers ascended in order to peer into the telescope’s eyepiece. Each wide step served double duty, providing a bench seat for any extended study of the galaxy. “Someone pushed these steps here,” I said. “They’re far from where they belong.”

  “The murderer must have done it,” Nina said.

  “They had plenty of room for killing. Why move things?”

  Nina crouched beside the mutilated remains. “See here? Beneath the blood there are markings drawn on the floor. Do you think they’re scientific?”

  Most of the design was obscured by blood and the corpse. Judging from what remained visible, the dead man lay atop a diagram made of interlocking angles and circles. I bent and dabbed my finger, smudging one of the lines but avoiding any blood. I rubbed my fingers together and sniffed. “It’s chalk. I doubt an astronomer drew it. To what purpose?”

  “What if the astronomer is also the murderer?” Nina asked. She stood and walked over to a lab table slashed by the shadows. Gazing skyward, she pointed. “That’s where the draft is coming from.” The observatory’s shutters were open. The moon entered through the slit in the dome roof. Nina found the nub of a candle stuck to a table. “Toss me your lighter.”

  I did.

  Candlelight mixed with moonlight, but neither made the sights less dreadful.

  “The blood is so red,” I said. “And so… everywhere.” I gulped sourly.

  While I was feeling close to being sick, Nina appeared unnaturally calm.

  “I wonder who he is?” she said, returning to the body.

  “Doesn’t any of this bother you?” I said. “It’s all rather graphic and, well… authentic.”

  Nina shrugged. “I’ve seen dead bodies before.”

  “Where?”

  “When I was a girl my father had a preoccupation with criminality. He was a newsman and an amateur sleuth of sorts. He took me to crime scenes. Fresh ones. I know it sounds abnormal, but I liked going with him. Seeing Boston’s underbelly. It was exciting. I inherited my sordid interests from him. Daddy bought a newspaper, then a few others. We stopped roaming the streets together. Where do you suppose this man’s head has gone?”

  “The killer took it?”

  “Yes. We heard the killer, didn’t we? Separating the neck joints moments before we arrived. How did they get up through the shutters with it? It’s too high to jump. We were blocking the secret stairwell, which must be a shortcut the astronomers use to get to the library. Going out the main door leads downstairs to the banquet table. It would be too risky.”

  We could hear the muffled noise of the partiers below us.

  Nina’s mention of the banquet put me in mind of Norman Withers. “Good heavens! Nina, let me have that candle.”

  I studied the body closely.

  “What is it, Alden?”

  I passed the candle flame along the length of the body, careful not to drip any wax. “I met a Miskatonic astronomer at the party tonight. Talkative fellow. Long beard, lively eyes – details which won’t help us here. He was working upstairs in this lab. I feared this might be him. But, no.” I leaned away from the corpse. “This guy is too young and portly to be the same man. Even lacking a head, he can’t be Norman Withers.”

  “Good news for Norman,” she said. “I wonder who…”

  A small scuffling noise called my attention to the far corner of the room. A rat?

  I do not like rats, though I suppose they were the least of our potential problems.

  Still, a rat makes a person feel crawly. Maybe vermin smelled the blood?

  An astronomy lab is not the ideal place to find a decent weapon. We had left our hammer and mop handle downstairs. I picked up a slide rule from the table. “Come with me.”

  “What are you going to do with that?”

  “I want to make sure we’re alone under the dome.”

  “And if we’re not, you’ll take measurements?”

  I ignored her jibe. Candle in hand, we made a thorough inspection of the room. I know this may sound callous, but once the initial shock of the gruesome murder had settled in, it was easier to appreciate the inspiring size of the grand telescope we were circumnavigating.

  “It looks like Big Bertha. Doesn’t it?”

  Nina shrugged. “I can’t really say. I’ve never seen a howitzer in person.”

  “In photos it is impressive.” I pointed to an iron track circling the room. “The dome rotates around on rails. Ropes and pulleys move it. That one hanging by the opening controls the shutter. Hey, look! Is that blood on it? The killer must’ve been covered with the stuff.”

  “You seem to know a lot about this place.” Nina examined the stained cable.

  “I visited here on school field trips when I was a kid.” Now that we had checked the room thoroughly, I was feeling less threatened by an impending attack. “I think we can say, with some confidence, that the killer has fled. It’s time to call the police.”

  Nina pursed her lips, tapping one knuckle against her chin.

  “Do you really think that’s wise?” she said.

  “A man’s been murdered. What other choice is there?”

  “How will we explain ourselves? Our discovery of the body, for instance?”

  “The police will understand.” I was not eager to involve the authorities. People of my class generally prefer to handle life’s unpleasant and socially embarrassing events less formally. But here was a decapitated man! “They’ll know the right way to handle this.”

  “That has not always been my experience.” She paced nervously. “We should think this all the way through. The body will be found tomorrow at the latest. There’s bound to be cleaners coming in after the party. Either way, it won’t help him.” She tipped her head at the corpse. Then she sighed deeply. “I’ll just say it. I don’t want to become a suspect, Alden.”

  “A suspect?” I didn’t understand. “Why on earth would you be a suspect?”


  “I’ve had trouble with the police… in my past.” She looked frightened.

  I was curious to know more, but I could see that she was reluctant to tell me. If I pried, she’d clam up. So I lit two cigarettes and passed one to her. We smoked silently in the semi-dark. The two of us. Just thinking. I was waiting for her to make up her own mind. Did she trust me enough to say anything more?

  Nina stared at the opening in the dome and watched the smoke escaping. Her big eyes came around to meet mine squarely. “Do you remember when I told you about Udo Ganz’s funeral? How there was a riot afterward and protestors were arrested? I was one of them.”

  “You were picked up at a political protest?” That didn’t seem so bad.

  “It was more than a protest. But I didn’t go for the politics. I went to have a look at the crowd. Maybe I thought the person who killed Ganz might show up. I don’t know what I was thinking. That I’d just look at them and somehow know? Maybe it was a fantasy I had of solving the murder. Pretty soon the march turned serious. Out of control. Bottles thrown. Threats and insults traded back and forth between the protestors and the cops. I got caught up in the crowd. I couldn’t slip away. Carried along in the river of bodies. The police rushed us. It was terrible. Fists and clubs flying. It felt more like a boxing match than a mass arrest…”

  “Nina, I’ll make the call to the cops. When they get here, we’ll both have to talk to them. There’s no avoiding that. But we can stay together. If there’s any problem, anything at all, I’ll phone my father’s lawyer and have him out here tonight. Nobody gets hurt.”

  Nina hugged me.

  I turned my head as we embraced, trying not to see the body in that lake of blood.

  “Alden? There’s more…”

  “More?” I pulled back but held onto her shoulders.

  “Just a little.”

  “Go on.”

  She turned sideways and started pacing again as she relayed her story. “When the Galinka sisters were discovered on Unvisited Isle? After the story came out in the papers and everywhere people knew what happened? That day, I borrowed a boat. A leaky old rowboat I found tied up on the shore. I rowed out to the island to see things. For myself, you know? Well, the boat belonged to this grubby fisherman. I thought it was abandoned! But he went to the police station and told them I stole it. They raced out with half a dozen big police boats because they thought maybe the person who took this fisherman’s boat might be the one who started the fire and burned up the bones of those poor Galinka girls. The cops ran up on the island waving their guns and clubs like wild men. They looked crazy! And when they saw me, I ran too. I tried to get away from them because I was scared. How far could I go? They chased me, high and low, blowing their whistles. I only went out there looking for clues…”

  “They arrested you again?”

  She nodded. “Handcuffed me. Took me to headquarters. Made me sit in a cell for hours. I explained the whole situation to them. But they acted like I was lying. They dug up my arrest sheet from the Ganz riot. They made me promise to stop investigating things on my own. Leave the police work to us, they said. I promised I would so they’d let me go home.”

  “And they said if they ever caught you out at a crime scene again…”

  “They’d lock me up for a long time. Long enough that people would forget me.”

  “The joke’s on them. I can’t imagine ever forgetting you.” I wanted us to kiss then, if only a dead man weren’t lying there on the floor. Nina looked at me quizzically. Had she misheard me? The trace of a smile said she hadn’t. Surprised. That’s all. Honestly, I was too.

  •••

  We agreed that I would say I broke into the telescope room on my own. I’d been taking a whiskey punch-induced nap in the library and heard weird noises beyond the wall behind the bookcase. I’d gone into the hallway and, when I couldn’t figure out a way into the room, I grabbed whatever tools I could find in the janitor’s closet. I was half-drunk. I thought somebody got themselves trapped inside the wall. I could sell it. The police wouldn’t care about that part when they saw the body. Nina would not be any part of my story.

  I watched her disappear down the secret staircase.

  She vanished into the dark.

  I was about to go downstairs and place my call to the cops when I noticed a row of coat pegs on the wall. Hanging from one of the pegs was a brown hooded robe. A monk’s robe. I lifted the robe off the peg. Where had I seen this same rustic getup? The spiked punch must have dulled my brain. My mind was drawing a blank until I spotted the thick wooden staff propped in the corner. Friar Tuck!

  This was the garb of Robin Hood’s tonsured companion.

  Clark Abernathy! My old college classmate. He’d chucked that fat log on the bonfire in the backyard while Nina was filling me in on Arkham’s string of unexplained deaths. If this was his Halloween costume, then Clark….

  We had been acquaintances, never friends. But Clark was a member of my college group of companions. The Abernathys were new money; rough around the edges, eager to please. Ruddy, freckled, and prematurely bald, Clark could be depended on to hoist a bottle of ale, or a dozen. He liked to toss around the ole pigskin and wrestle his comrades into submission on gym mats. Clark was a legend of the dining hall, regaled for his bottomless appetite. By himself, Clark once consumed a stuffed saddle of lamb, three creamed onions, a tray of cinnamon buns, and a Nesselrode chestnut custard pie in a single sitting. The post-collegiate years lured him away from the gymnasium but not the dinner table. His father was grooming him to take over the family’s sporting goods empire. Likable Clark was a born salesman. Clark’s rise to sporting goods fame had followed right on schedule. Until tonight.

  I returned to the body.

  During our junior year Clark took a drunken spill off a bicycle onto the railroad tracks. He gashed his knee badly, requiring several stitches and the temporary use of a crutch. I remembered because I was the one who drove him to the hospital that night. I saw the doctor stitch him up.

  My lighter flame located the pink scar on the corpse’s knee.

  Clark’s knee.

  Poor old Clark. He never did harm to anyone. Yet he ended up like this.

  I resisted the urge to cover him with his frock. I didn’t want to spoil any evidence.

  Instead, I went downstairs to call the police. I’d find Preston first. Clark was his friend and a groomsman at his upcoming wedding. I wanted to tell him before the cops did.

  Poor old Clark.

  •••

  “Oakesy, I can’t talk to you privately right now. I’m in the middle of a party! Minnie, darling, come here!” I first thought Preston had come to his party without a costume, but now he was wearing a purple felt top hat with a piece of paper pinned to it that read, “In this Style 10/6.” He held a cigar in one hand, an inch of ash about to plummet off its tip, in the other hand he clutched a gin martini poured into a huge china teacup. Partygoers danced around him.

  “Preston, Clark Abernathy is dead,” I said.

  “That’s not possible, Alden. I just saw him not an hour ago. He’s here at my party.” Preston sipped from his martini.

  Minnie materialized out of the crowd and rushed to her fiancé’s side.

  “What is it, my Mad Hatter?”

  “Alden thinks Clark is dead. Tell him he’s wrong. The boy has had too much punch.” Preston fell deeply into a high-backed chair, offering Minnie his knee for a seat. She borrowed his cigar, filling her mouth with smoke, blowing a series of rings at the ceiling. Preston watched her, his eyes hooded with prideful possession, before returning his attention to me. “Now, Oakesy, where have you been?”

  “Upstairs, under the observatory dome. That’s where I found Clark. We need to call the police,” I said, exasperated.

  “You’re joking! Oh, Alden!” Minnie howled.

  People began to
drift to our corner to see what they might be missing.

  “Please come. I’ll show you,” I said.

  In the background, the trombone player blew a sad vaudevillian solo. Preston rose and put his arm around me, dropping copious ash on my shirt. “Now, now. Oakesy, you’re obviously upset. I hate to see that. We’ll go with you and clear up this misunderstanding.” He turned to the gathering crowd. “Everyone, wait here. We have a private matter to resolve. Minnie, I might need your support.” They stood up. Wobbly in each other’s arms.

  “We should call the police,” I said.

  Preston looked at me with genuine affection. “You’re too damned serious, chum. It’s probably a prank. Clarkie loves to pull a good one. These are all my friends here tonight. I’m not about to summon the police and have them hauled away to jail for drinking. Now, how about we three go under the dome and chew out Clark for his poor taste in humor?”

  Preston snatched a candelabra from the table. Minnie grabbed onto Preston.

  And I led them toward the stairs.

  “There’s a lot of blood. Prepare yourself.”

  Preston’s expression grew serious for the first time. “Blood?”

  “Someone cut off Clark’s head. They’ve taken it.” My words sounded insane to me.

  Preston looked uneasy. “You’d better go first. I’ve got a weak stomach when it comes to body fluids. It must be a joke. Don’t you see? It can’t be real. Fake blood. I’ll take Clarkie to task for it. He shouldn’t scare my friends. It isn’t fun at all when a person takes things too far.” In the hall, Preston strode to the door, grabbing the doorknob, twisting. “It’s locked.”

  “There’s another way,” I said. “A secret passage through the library.”

  “Secret passage, did you say?” Preston arched an eyebrow.

  “Oooh, I like the sound of that,” Minnie said. “A touch of Poe!”

  I led them to the library, but the doors wouldn’t budge.

  “We blocked the doors from inside. I forgot.”

  “Who’s we?” Preston asked.

  I wasn’t going to mention Nina. “It’s not important. Maybe if we pushed together?”