Chapter Two
James Norrington stood over the body of Reginald Wheeler, face expressionless where the Governor is aghast. The man has been eviscerated his …man parts removed and shoved in his mouth. Cmdre. Norrington has seen many depraved things in his time but this takes the cake.
"Who could have done something so horrible?" whispers the Governor.
James arches an eyebrow before telling the men to take the body away. Murder in Port Royal, Wheeler being the second victim has the town up in arms many whispering that there is a madman on the loose. Norrington isn't sure what to think but he knows that investigations are drawing up nothing so far. Turning to the Governor whose ghastly look gives him the appearance of being sick, Norrington tries to calm him.
"Sir I assure you that whoever is the culprit will be apprehended very soon. Port Royal is a small community and I am sure someone witnessed something." Though so far no one has come forward.
"Why would someone do that to this poor man. Why would they hurt dear mister Abbey? He was a kind fellow…"
"Yes, Yes, I'm sure he was," said Norrington as he guided Governor Swann forcefully in the direction of his carriage, "We all thought highly of him." Like hell. Abbey was a damn slaver and Norrington could barely tolerate the man. Abbey's endless rambling about the right of the white man to own slaves as a divine right on many occasions made James roll his eyes in disgust. The peddling of human flesh has to be the biggest tarnish on the British Crown. Norrington couldn't abide by it himself. And Wheeler was just as bad. The man was some overseer on one of the plantations north of Port Royal…
A thought struck Norrington as he sent the Governor off without so much as a good bye. Both dead men were slavers of some sort. And thinking harder both were killed the same way. James realizes that the connection was not just the death patterns but it may be who is chosen. Turning briskly he walks to his office to examine information on the reports.
There is a heaviness in the bar that only death could bring. People are whispering at every table and at the bar folks are talking about the deaths of the two men. The dim bar reflects the feelings of the patron and the barkeep keeps the drinks coming as ladies walk around trying to brighten people's evening barely succeeding.
Todd Martin sat in the bar drinking his last whiskey. It was bad enough that he had three already. The missus is going to shout her head off about it but what's a guy to do when a friend is murdered. But he couldn't help it. He and Wheeler had been friends for the last twelve years and what happen to him just ain't right. Wheeler's wife is beside herself with grief and who could blame her. Wheeler wasn't exactly known for saving and his wife is now left with five kids four girl and the youngest a sickly boy to raise alone. It's a pity. He knew they shouldn't have ever come to a place like Port Royal. But everyone told them that the town was safe and friendly to law-abiding citizens. So much for friendly.
Tossing back his last shot he spots someone from the corner of his eye staring at him. When turns he notices a person in the corner, hat tipped down and face in a glass. He stares at him a moment before turning back to the bar. Shrugging he tosses a few coins on the counter before leaving the bar in a slow unsteady swagger. If he had been paying attention he would have notice the man that he spotted in the hat standing and following him out.
The burning sensation pressing at his loins makes him stop in the nearest alley for relief. As he drains himself he feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Glancing around he doesn't see anything so he shrugs it off as being drunk and tired. Shaking himself a bit, he stuffs himself back into his pants when a glint distracts him. He turns suddenly when is powder blown in his face. Blinking rapidly, he tries to focus only to gasp from an excruciating pain. Looking down he sees a knife in his gut. The hand attached to it twists it adding to his pain before the knife is jerked out. Todd falls to his knees. He coughs a bit, blood spittle coming from his mouth. Looking up he faces the person from the bar with the hat. He sees nothing under the shadow of the hat but the knife is at eye level, glistening silver under the red coating of his blood.
"What…what do you want from me?" he rasps. He feels his pulse fading as his limbs become heavy. He is loosing control of himself.
"You to die..." said an eerily haunted voice.
Seconds later there is a slice in the air and a thump on the ground.
James snapped awake at the sound of a bell ringing loudly. By its frantic tones he knows another murder has occurred. Sighing heavily he gets up and dresses slowly. There is no hurry for he knows what he will see. A man eviscerated, genitals stuffed in his mouth, eyes open. It's a macabre sight that will give more of his soldier's nightmares.
The walk over to the location is a slight trekk. James lives closer to the shore in an obviously more affluent part of Port Royal. Now he is walking in what is deemed the old city. It is a place where Port Royal put up its first homes and business before expanding further inland. It is on the opposite side of where he lives and it is slowly decaying after years of neglect. The closer he gets the shabbier the area. Upon arrival he takes in his surroundings. The buildings are close together some leaning a bit from age making any spaces between them very dark and foreboding. Yet where the body laid there was enough moonlight to allow some viewing of it.
When he steps closer to the scene of the crime even he steps back from the sight. This scene is slightly bloodier than the last but still the same result. The man is resting beck against the wall. His pants are at his ankles. Aside from the several cuts and stab wounds all over his body, the bloodiest part is where is masculinity formally resided. It is now located stuffed into his mouth. Norrington glances around and notices Lt. Gillette standing closest to the body while other soldiers try to keep back any onlookers. The few people who managed to get a glimpse turned away sick. Norrington wondered why these people rose from their bed at all to look. Shaking his head he walked briskly closer. After moving Gillette aside James bends a bit staring at the man.
"Who is he?"
"Todd Martin. I believe he is a friend of Wheelers but I'm not sure," said Gillette.
"Find out. Any witnesses?"
"No sir. He left the bar three blocks back not too long after ten. A passerby heading home found him. Scared the man senseless."
"Well where is this witness?" Norrington asks looking around. Finding no one his hard glare lands on Gillette
Gillette clears his throat squirming a bit, "Uh, he fainted sir. Knocked himself silly. The doctor told us to take him to the infirmary." In the corner near the body the doctor nodded in affirmation.
James shakes his head slightly sighing. Then with determined focus he faces the group. "Someone must have seen something. Some one has to know something. Three murders have occurred and by tomorrow night I want everyone in this town questioned and accounted for. Is that clear?" he turns to Gillette.
Snapping to attention he says, "Yes sir. Right away." Gillette began giving orders as Norrington walked into the alley to get a better look at the dead man. Staring at him he tries to understand the mind of the person that would do such a thing when something catches his eye. Turning a bit to his left he notices someone further down the alley. Facing that direction fully, he catches the person flinting thru the precious streams of light that somehow penetrated the alley. Finally he briefly caught a glimpse of a man darting around a dark corner. James starts to go in that direction but his gut instinct told him that he would regret it dearly. Glancing back at the body and then at the other end of the alley, he walks away heading to his office to do more research on the victims. He knows he is missing something and a small part of him feels an urgent need to know what that something is not only because of the murders but because he might find himself at the end of the very blade that killed the three other men.
The man races down the back street staying in the shadows until he gets to the abandon building near the forest of Port Royal. Ducking under a few boards the man, tosses the hat into the corner. After lighting a match, he goes to a pitcher that is sitting on a worn table situated against the back wall of the room. Pouring it into a bowl, the man replaces the pitcher and then strips.
He washes himself clean and then washes the clothes, removing as much blood as possible. Once finished, he hangs the clothes on the back of the only chair in the room before walking over to a corner where there is a pallet made. Sitting down, the man studies the blade in his hand. The curved blade has a deadly beauty to it that makes it a simple minister of death at his hand. Stretching out the man lies back and begins contemplating the next kill. The ultimate kill. The one that brought him to Port Royal. Norrington.
"Soon Emmit," he whispers to the blade, "Soon."