The Crow
A Poet's Grief
By NiteFenix
Chapter 4 – The Plot Thickens
I DIED for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.
He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth,—the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.
And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names. – Emily Dickinson
Things couldn't get any worse. At the library Jim discovered newspaper reports about the attack on Eleanor's house, his and three other peoples' deaths. They never found Johnny.
He also discovered that they mentioned nothing about what happened to Eleanor. Was she dead or was she alive? Maybe they didn't say anything because of political reasons. Eleanor's father was after all an important figure in the government of the United Kingdom before he died four years earlier.
He had to know. He just had to know!
And now he was on his way to his next destination. One he had seen in one of the many newspaper articles that he read. Club Slythe, which was on the other side of the river. The police had connected the crime that had happened there, to the one at Eleanor's house. They didn't mention what the connection was, but he was going to find out.
He moved through the neighborhoods with a speed such as he had never known, and his energy didn't leave him. With each step he took, he felt stronger than before. His heart was racing; he knew that if he found something at the Club then he could possibly find Eleanor.
As he reached the rear door of the club he noticed a couple of big men standing on either side. One was smoking and the other was busy polishing a particularly large machete. They both had something in common, something which made Jim sure that he was on the right track. He read in the newspaper that the two guys he killed out in the street that night each had strange tattoos on their lower arms. An X, with a bird perched at the top, taunting a snake which intertwined between the different parts of the X.
They were minions, he figured. And these two are minions too. But who are they working for?
He didn't want to stick around and hope they mentioned something. Instead he leaped from his hiding place and into the light directly in front of the two bouncers.
"Hello boys" He said and they both jumped up in surprise.
"Ho ho, look at the painted up freak Vinny." The bouncer with the Machete said to his partner.
"Yeah hehe, he looks like some sort of fucked up mime or something, eh Joey?" Vinny replied.
"Hmmm Vinny and Joey. Didn't your mommas teach you any manners?" Jim said, grinning slyly.
"Who does this prick think he is?" Joey asked, his eyes flashing dangerously, to match the flash of his Machete.
"I'm your worst nightmare." Jim said and leaped at Joey, as gracefully as a panther.
Joey lost his footing as Jim landed on him and fell backwards. Vinny was on Jim's back in a heartbeat. Jim felt a searing pain at the back of his neck as a pair of Brass Knucks struck him continuously.
He threw Vinny off his back and punched Joey's nose until it started streaming with blood. This angered the bouncer and he pushed Jim off with a renewed vigour.
The blood streaming down his face in the dim light of the dark alley, made Joey's features look somewhat demonic. He armed himself with his Machete again which had slipped from his grip when Jim pounced him and the two adversaries stood facing each other, each with their own particular bloodlust in their eyes.
"I'm gonna kill you, you prick!" Joey screamed as he charged at Jim, Machete raised high. Jim jumped nimbly aside and chopped Joey against his ear, which promptly began to bleed at the hard, blunt blow of Jim's flat hand.
"Touché, Joseph." Jim said and beckoned his assailant to strike at him again.
Joey didn't have to be told twice and he charged at Jim again, but just as Jim wanted to strike at him again, Joey feinted and sliced Jim's arm open.
Jim let out a mock cry, crouching and cursing, holding his bleeding arm.
Joey and Vinny laughed at this display of pain.
As if they were laughing at something else, and not him, Jim rose and joined the laughter, releasing his arm and showing them that there was no wound.
"You feint like a sissy boy Joseph." Jim said and as fast as he had moved on his journey to the Club, he was behind Joey, holding his own Machete at his throat.
"Any last message to your little friend here before I gut him?" Jim said to Vinny.
"Fuck it!" Vinny shouted and ran into the club's door.
Joey spluttered and tried to breath through his blood coated face. Begging for his life. Jim just laughed sadistically and started slicing Joey like a butcher would its slab of meat.
Screams echoed through the night, going on for a long time before they stopped. Jim finally felt a bit better.
He entered the club, chasing after his next victim. The not so charismatic, Vinny.
As he walked up the stairs leading up to the Manager's office, he grinded the Machete off the railings. It made a clang-clang sound, every time it struck a pipe. He could hear the terrified screams of Vinny and the Manager and whoever else was up there. There was no way out. They knew it, and he knew it.
"Please don't kill me!" The man in the expensive Giovanni suit pleaded with Jim as he walked into the room.
Jim cocked his head to one side, looking slightly concerned.
"There's one way you can get out of this alive boss-man." Jim said.
"Just name it, I'll do anything!" He whimpered.
"Who are you working for?" Jim asked.
"I don't know man. I get my orders from a middle man! He's the only one who will be able to tell you who our employer is. Hi-his details are over there, in my dairy."
Jim walked over to the desk and flipped nonchalantly through the Manager's dairy and tore out a page.
"Thank you." Jim said and threw the Machete with expert aim across the room.
*-*-*-*-*-*
Chief Inspector Jayce Law of the Boston Police Department walked into the two storey luxury home in disgust.
"Doesn't the city council take care of these old houses? I mean we might use them again in the future."
The rookie cop on crowd control duty just shrugged and shook his head.
"Where's the bum who said he was assaulted?" Law asked the cop.
"He's right in there sir." Law walked into the large living room after hearing this and looked around at the shoddy state of the house. Paint was peeling off the walls, old rain soaked and rotten furniture lay strewn across the floor. There were holes in the roof where the rain had obviously seeped through.
He walked over to the corner of the room, near a broken window where a small bum was sitting, being questioned by another Inspector.
"I'll take it from here Bravura." He said to the Inspector who stood up and walked out of the room.
Law picked up an old chair and set it up straight on it's legs then sat down on it facing the bum.
"What's your name kid?" He asked.
"Max..." The man said.
"Max, tell me what happened."
"I was just sitting here with Bobby when all of a sudden this guy walks in the backdoor and shouts at and beat me, chasing me from the room."
Law pondered a moment, scribbling in his notebook.
"You know we wouldn't normally assist people of your...stature in the city. What makes this case so special?" The Chief Inspector enquired.
"Mister, I dunno what happened. Alls I know is that that guy was not normal. He barely touched me but I flew almost across the fricken room man!."
"Calm down kid. Go on, tell me what happened next." Law said impatiently.
"He-he walked down the hallway. It looked like he knew this place, but I ain't seen him before, I been living here a long time yaknow. We, me 'n Bobby, we..."
"Get to the point kid..." Law exerted his impatient aire even more.
"Right, right...we were standing over there, outside in the backyard, waitin' for him to go away, when we heard him talking to himself and smashing up things inside the house. It was like he was in pain or something, but when he walked back out he didn't have a scratch on him."
"What makes you so certain that the stuff he was bashing around could injure him?" Law asked.
"He broke a mirror mister. The one in that room over there!"
"Anything else you wanna tell me kid?" Law asked as he stood up.
"Nah mister...can I go now? I gotta go find Bobby."
'Yea sure kid." Law walked out of the room and down the small hallway, into the study.
The room looked no better than the lounge. An old rotten desk was turned over, laying against the wall, the legs were broken off, it's obvious use would have been firewood. What made this case so special? The answer was staring him right in the face. This guy was obviously a nut job. The mirror was shattered, and there was blood everywhere.
Why then would the bum say that the guy didn't have a scratch on him? He didn't have time to contemplate the answer. The same cop he spoke to when he came into the house, rushed in, out of breath.
"Chief, report just came in from HQ. There's been a grave robbery. They want you to check it out."
"Goddammit..." Law muttered under his breath.
"Alright, I'm on my way."
Law walked out the door and out into the front yard where his Oldsmobile was waiting.
*-*-*-*-*-*
"No sir, Chief Inspector Law is currently out on an investigation. Do you want me to take a message?" The operator said coolly over the phone.
"Nah it's ok Lucy. I'll try again later." Ramsey said.
He placed the phone back in its cradle and sat on his sleeper couch, running his fingers through his thinning gray hair.
It was almost two AM. He had been in the graveyard for nearly half an hour, trying to find out just what the hell was going on. When he didn't find anything he finally decided to go home. He figured he'd phone Law and find out what he makes of this. Even though their friendship wasn't on the best of terms, he was sure Law would love to here about this.
Now he sat, thinking about his next move. He'd go to bed and sleep on it, he decided.
The phone rang. It was Bravura. Ramsey's old partner when he was still a blue.
"Ramsey, you gotta get down here old man. We're reopening your old case."
"Which one?" Ramsey chuckled.
"The Raven murders." Bravura said. The case had formally become known as the Raven murders after a comment Ramsey had made the night of the attack of Eleanor Jones' house.
"Where are you?" Ramsey asked.
"Club Slythe...we need you down here Paul." Bravura sounded panicked.
"I'll be there soon." Ramsey assured his old partner and hung up.
*-*-*-*-*-*
A/N Nothing special to add here but a thanks to my wonderful girlfriend for inspiring me even more for this story.
There's a big plot twist coming soon, so keep your eyes peeled!
-NF
Chapter 4 – The Plot Thickens
I DIED for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.
He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth,—the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.
And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names. – Emily Dickinson
Things couldn't get any worse. At the library Jim discovered newspaper reports about the attack on Eleanor's house, his and three other peoples' deaths. They never found Johnny.
He also discovered that they mentioned nothing about what happened to Eleanor. Was she dead or was she alive? Maybe they didn't say anything because of political reasons. Eleanor's father was after all an important figure in the government of the United Kingdom before he died four years earlier.
He had to know. He just had to know!
And now he was on his way to his next destination. One he had seen in one of the many newspaper articles that he read. Club Slythe, which was on the other side of the river. The police had connected the crime that had happened there, to the one at Eleanor's house. They didn't mention what the connection was, but he was going to find out.
He moved through the neighborhoods with a speed such as he had never known, and his energy didn't leave him. With each step he took, he felt stronger than before. His heart was racing; he knew that if he found something at the Club then he could possibly find Eleanor.
As he reached the rear door of the club he noticed a couple of big men standing on either side. One was smoking and the other was busy polishing a particularly large machete. They both had something in common, something which made Jim sure that he was on the right track. He read in the newspaper that the two guys he killed out in the street that night each had strange tattoos on their lower arms. An X, with a bird perched at the top, taunting a snake which intertwined between the different parts of the X.
They were minions, he figured. And these two are minions too. But who are they working for?
He didn't want to stick around and hope they mentioned something. Instead he leaped from his hiding place and into the light directly in front of the two bouncers.
"Hello boys" He said and they both jumped up in surprise.
"Ho ho, look at the painted up freak Vinny." The bouncer with the Machete said to his partner.
"Yeah hehe, he looks like some sort of fucked up mime or something, eh Joey?" Vinny replied.
"Hmmm Vinny and Joey. Didn't your mommas teach you any manners?" Jim said, grinning slyly.
"Who does this prick think he is?" Joey asked, his eyes flashing dangerously, to match the flash of his Machete.
"I'm your worst nightmare." Jim said and leaped at Joey, as gracefully as a panther.
Joey lost his footing as Jim landed on him and fell backwards. Vinny was on Jim's back in a heartbeat. Jim felt a searing pain at the back of his neck as a pair of Brass Knucks struck him continuously.
He threw Vinny off his back and punched Joey's nose until it started streaming with blood. This angered the bouncer and he pushed Jim off with a renewed vigour.
The blood streaming down his face in the dim light of the dark alley, made Joey's features look somewhat demonic. He armed himself with his Machete again which had slipped from his grip when Jim pounced him and the two adversaries stood facing each other, each with their own particular bloodlust in their eyes.
"I'm gonna kill you, you prick!" Joey screamed as he charged at Jim, Machete raised high. Jim jumped nimbly aside and chopped Joey against his ear, which promptly began to bleed at the hard, blunt blow of Jim's flat hand.
"Touché, Joseph." Jim said and beckoned his assailant to strike at him again.
Joey didn't have to be told twice and he charged at Jim again, but just as Jim wanted to strike at him again, Joey feinted and sliced Jim's arm open.
Jim let out a mock cry, crouching and cursing, holding his bleeding arm.
Joey and Vinny laughed at this display of pain.
As if they were laughing at something else, and not him, Jim rose and joined the laughter, releasing his arm and showing them that there was no wound.
"You feint like a sissy boy Joseph." Jim said and as fast as he had moved on his journey to the Club, he was behind Joey, holding his own Machete at his throat.
"Any last message to your little friend here before I gut him?" Jim said to Vinny.
"Fuck it!" Vinny shouted and ran into the club's door.
Joey spluttered and tried to breath through his blood coated face. Begging for his life. Jim just laughed sadistically and started slicing Joey like a butcher would its slab of meat.
Screams echoed through the night, going on for a long time before they stopped. Jim finally felt a bit better.
He entered the club, chasing after his next victim. The not so charismatic, Vinny.
As he walked up the stairs leading up to the Manager's office, he grinded the Machete off the railings. It made a clang-clang sound, every time it struck a pipe. He could hear the terrified screams of Vinny and the Manager and whoever else was up there. There was no way out. They knew it, and he knew it.
"Please don't kill me!" The man in the expensive Giovanni suit pleaded with Jim as he walked into the room.
Jim cocked his head to one side, looking slightly concerned.
"There's one way you can get out of this alive boss-man." Jim said.
"Just name it, I'll do anything!" He whimpered.
"Who are you working for?" Jim asked.
"I don't know man. I get my orders from a middle man! He's the only one who will be able to tell you who our employer is. Hi-his details are over there, in my dairy."
Jim walked over to the desk and flipped nonchalantly through the Manager's dairy and tore out a page.
"Thank you." Jim said and threw the Machete with expert aim across the room.
*-*-*-*-*-*
Chief Inspector Jayce Law of the Boston Police Department walked into the two storey luxury home in disgust.
"Doesn't the city council take care of these old houses? I mean we might use them again in the future."
The rookie cop on crowd control duty just shrugged and shook his head.
"Where's the bum who said he was assaulted?" Law asked the cop.
"He's right in there sir." Law walked into the large living room after hearing this and looked around at the shoddy state of the house. Paint was peeling off the walls, old rain soaked and rotten furniture lay strewn across the floor. There were holes in the roof where the rain had obviously seeped through.
He walked over to the corner of the room, near a broken window where a small bum was sitting, being questioned by another Inspector.
"I'll take it from here Bravura." He said to the Inspector who stood up and walked out of the room.
Law picked up an old chair and set it up straight on it's legs then sat down on it facing the bum.
"What's your name kid?" He asked.
"Max..." The man said.
"Max, tell me what happened."
"I was just sitting here with Bobby when all of a sudden this guy walks in the backdoor and shouts at and beat me, chasing me from the room."
Law pondered a moment, scribbling in his notebook.
"You know we wouldn't normally assist people of your...stature in the city. What makes this case so special?" The Chief Inspector enquired.
"Mister, I dunno what happened. Alls I know is that that guy was not normal. He barely touched me but I flew almost across the fricken room man!."
"Calm down kid. Go on, tell me what happened next." Law said impatiently.
"He-he walked down the hallway. It looked like he knew this place, but I ain't seen him before, I been living here a long time yaknow. We, me 'n Bobby, we..."
"Get to the point kid..." Law exerted his impatient aire even more.
"Right, right...we were standing over there, outside in the backyard, waitin' for him to go away, when we heard him talking to himself and smashing up things inside the house. It was like he was in pain or something, but when he walked back out he didn't have a scratch on him."
"What makes you so certain that the stuff he was bashing around could injure him?" Law asked.
"He broke a mirror mister. The one in that room over there!"
"Anything else you wanna tell me kid?" Law asked as he stood up.
"Nah mister...can I go now? I gotta go find Bobby."
'Yea sure kid." Law walked out of the room and down the small hallway, into the study.
The room looked no better than the lounge. An old rotten desk was turned over, laying against the wall, the legs were broken off, it's obvious use would have been firewood. What made this case so special? The answer was staring him right in the face. This guy was obviously a nut job. The mirror was shattered, and there was blood everywhere.
Why then would the bum say that the guy didn't have a scratch on him? He didn't have time to contemplate the answer. The same cop he spoke to when he came into the house, rushed in, out of breath.
"Chief, report just came in from HQ. There's been a grave robbery. They want you to check it out."
"Goddammit..." Law muttered under his breath.
"Alright, I'm on my way."
Law walked out the door and out into the front yard where his Oldsmobile was waiting.
*-*-*-*-*-*
"No sir, Chief Inspector Law is currently out on an investigation. Do you want me to take a message?" The operator said coolly over the phone.
"Nah it's ok Lucy. I'll try again later." Ramsey said.
He placed the phone back in its cradle and sat on his sleeper couch, running his fingers through his thinning gray hair.
It was almost two AM. He had been in the graveyard for nearly half an hour, trying to find out just what the hell was going on. When he didn't find anything he finally decided to go home. He figured he'd phone Law and find out what he makes of this. Even though their friendship wasn't on the best of terms, he was sure Law would love to here about this.
Now he sat, thinking about his next move. He'd go to bed and sleep on it, he decided.
The phone rang. It was Bravura. Ramsey's old partner when he was still a blue.
"Ramsey, you gotta get down here old man. We're reopening your old case."
"Which one?" Ramsey chuckled.
"The Raven murders." Bravura said. The case had formally become known as the Raven murders after a comment Ramsey had made the night of the attack of Eleanor Jones' house.
"Where are you?" Ramsey asked.
"Club Slythe...we need you down here Paul." Bravura sounded panicked.
"I'll be there soon." Ramsey assured his old partner and hung up.
*-*-*-*-*-*
A/N Nothing special to add here but a thanks to my wonderful girlfriend for inspiring me even more for this story.
There's a big plot twist coming soon, so keep your eyes peeled!
-NF