“Before we commence with your quest,” the Captain said sternly, “perhaps we ought to review the remaining remains of the victim. They reside in a tub of turpentine within.” He gestured in the direction of his office. Memory of the foetid alley came upon me and I protested, but the rest of the group were eager for the thrill, and I reluctantly agreed.
Inside, it was as dark as a cat, and Captain Burnside had to light two lamps to shed enough light to see the large wooden tub which squatted in the otherwise unoccupied cell. We gathered round like schoolboys ready to see a two-headed frog, while our host took a metal hook from the lip of the rub and searched tentatively in the vaporous liquid. He held it above the strong smelling brew and hesitated. “Those interested citizens of the city have generously offered a nickel apiece to view what I am about to show you gentlemen.” His pointed hesitation continued, and continued further, until with an exasperated chorus of “for the love of Christ’” and so forth, the necessary coins were reluctantly dropped onto his outreached palm. Into the tub went the hook.
After a moment’s probing he pulled a long, awkward-looking object from the bath. It took a bit to recognize a curved backbone and a set of ribs, looking red and brown and shiny from the turpentine. It was an awful sight, and pitiful. Rafe Still fumbled in his coat for a sheaf of paper and charcoal, and emitted low purr.
“A bit of respect, if you don’t mind,” said the Captain meaningfully and looking at Still. And at us: “The turpentine bath seems to have eroded Mr. Slade somewhat. There was more meat on him when last I looked at the remains.”
“Does anyone else notice that there are two ribs missing?” Billy said softly in my ear.
“That is as they were discovered in the alleyway behind Mr. Spander’s establishment,” the Captain explained. “It would seem that Mr. Phoenix had a taste for them.”
The ensuing silence passed from one of respect to that of waiting for someone to break the deadlock.
Compliantly, I said, “This fascinating artifact, while an object of surefire interest, does not tie to my client. Someone, we’ll assume not Mr. Slade himself, has removed the ribs. Let us further assume that it was for the purpose of their consumption. To do that, one would have to have the wherewithal to pull the meat from the bone. Isn’t it so?” There was a general lack of comprehension. I let it go. I turned to Captain Burnside. “Have you examined the living quarters of Moses Phoenix?”
He shook his head. “He wasn’t at home.”
”Well, then, we should go there straightaway!” I admit that I had not been in a rush to reveal my discovery: namely, that Moses Phoenix lacked the teeth to devour human flesh, and could therefore not have been the villain in our story. I enjoyed having knowledge that others did not. I was willing to draw out their ignorance, as it seemed to me that the satisfaction it would give to me once revealed, would be that much the greater the longer it cured. Further, by waiting as long as I had, my audience had increased to a respectable size. Still, I felt that the time had come. It was fitting to exonerate Mr. Phoenix by making the announcement at his own home.
With a small amount of resistance the group agreed to make one last journey (it was but two hundred yards from the jail) to satisfy my whim. Our little parade attracted the attention of townsfolk, and some of them may have joined the procession. We reached the boarding house and with Captain Burnside in our group we were readily given admittance. I bounded up the stairs to his room and thrust open the door.
It was as I had pictured it. Modest furnishings, few pieces of homely furniture, a daguerrotype of Mother on the wall. I turned to look at my companions, tears welling in my eyes. Was this not a scene of domestic tranquility? Was Moses Phoenix not a paragon of sweet innocence? On one wall set a cupboard. Surely, it held a bible!
“See here,” I said solemnly. “This is the dwelling place of a man without natural enemies. Mr. Phoenix could not harm a soul, because he is too pure of heart and gentle of spirit to wish anyone ill. He could not do the terrible deed of which he is accused” - and here I paused meaningfully - “because the man has NO TEETH! He cannot chew meat! He is incapable of everything you accuse him of!” I strode to the cupboard, in order to fling it open and reveal the bible, as a last punctuation on my performance.
There, on a shelf in that cupboard rested a beautiful set of ivory choppers, still stained red with the unfortunate Slade’s blood.
This is where the fragment ends. I assume that it is where he intended to halt the tale, but I cannot be certain. Now I’m wondering whether I should start transcribing the rest of what I found in the trunk. I am open to suggestions on that front.
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