6 Voodoo Scarecrow

Most people had gone to bed by midnight, but a few who had heard a woman's scream had come to investigate. The guards, however, promptly shooed them away after noticing the horrific scene. 

"Clear off! Nothin' to see 'ere!" barked one of the guards when a curious onlooker attempted to sneak a peek.

Soon after, two carriages arrived on the scene. From the smaller one emerged a figure clad in the uniform of the law, sporting a police hat, and brandishing a baton. This was none other than Sergeant Gruger, his belly protruding noticeably, followed by three constables. Stepping out of the larger carriage was a man with blond locks and a distinguished moustache, the wrinkles around his eyes betraying his age.

"Inspector Woodbead!" Sergeant Gruger greeted the inspector with a swift bow. 

The inspector merely nodded in acknowledgment before striding purposefully towards the heart of the macabre scene. "We've yet to collar the killer, and the commissioner's baying for answers. What number does this one make?" he inquired. 

"The fourth, sir," Sergeant Gruger responded. "We've stationed guards all over the city."

"But it doesn't seem enough. Whoever's behind this is brazen enough to bring the corpse here. Unless, of course, the poor soul met her end atop these arches."

Once they arrived at the top of the arched bridge, Sergeant Gruger quickly ordered the guards, "Remove the cover. Let's 'ave a look at the body, shall we?"

The white sheet was peeled back, revealing the lifeless form of a woman. At the sight, both men recoiled; her eyes appeared gouged out, and her chest lay hollow, as if her heart had been plucked away.

The men present quickly shielded their noses with their handkerchiefs. Inspector Woodbead queried, "Are the injuries consistent with those of the other victims?"

"Yes, Inspector. The woman has a missing tongue, and a scarecrow doll was lying next to her," answered a guard next to him. "We patrolled nearby but couldn't find the missing parts. There's no blood trail either."

"Blimey," Sergeant Gruger murmured, and he then questioned, "What about the witness?" 

A couple out for a stroll near the bridge discovered the body. "But they've got nothing more to add," the guard explained. "Claim they ain't seen no one else lurkin' about."

"Poor woman. Whoever the killer is, he seems to not be stopping anytime soon," Inspector Woodbead, who had crouched before the woman's body, pulled away and waved his hand. The guards quickly covered the woman with the white sheet. "Take the body to the examination facility. Find out about her family so that we can know if they have any clues about the killer."

"On it, sir!" the guards saluted the inspector before carrying the body out of there. 

Sergeant Gruger caught sight of Inspector Woodbead holding a miniature-looking scarecrow made of cloth. He remarked, "Strange, ain't it? To leave those plush toys around at the scene. It makes you think it is an odd person."

Inspector Woodbead stared at the toy, pressing on it as if the toy would speak. 

"You think it has something to do with the witches?" Sergeant Gruger asked in slight suspicion. 

Inspector Woodbead gave his sergeant a quizzical look. "The last witch hunt took place two centuries ago, and there's no such thing as witches." As a man of considerable rank, the inspector had hoped his subordinate wouldn't entertain such notions. "People were mad then, and it seems some still are," he added, glancing at the doll.

"Surely, it must hold some significance. Like a calling card," Sergeant Gruger insisted, casting a cautious glance around. "But why a scarecrow, of all things? It could 'ave been any doll or even a vegetable."

"I'm not interested in speculating on the killer's choice of signature, Sergeant," Inspector Woodbead said firmly, his brow furrowing in concern. He wondered what the killer's intentions were.

In three months, there had been a total of four gruesome deaths, all being women. What was the motive for killing them in such an inhumane way? 

"Gruger," Inspector Woodbead summoned the sergeant, who was quick to come to his side. "Find out if there has been any similar case in the past."

"I don' think there 'as been one," Sergeant Gruger responded instantly. 

"I want you to be sure and not think. Run a check by telling Detective Reinhart about the case to go through the commissioner to allow access to the old files. Who knows if we find any link with this scarecrow thing?" Inspector Woodbead stated with a grim tone. 

"Reinhart must be sleeping now, Inspector. Why don't I go do it myself?" Sergeant Gruger was eager to take the entire case for himself and work on it. Once they cracked the case, he would move up the ranks too. 

"She's sleeping now. She won't be tomorrow. And I don't care if she is sleeping now. A murder took place, and she needs to be where the body is. Why isn't she here?" Inspector Woodbead wasn't impressed by the lack of professionalism shown right now. "Tell her I want to see her tomorrow."

Seeing the inspector give him a look, Sergeant Gruger quickly bowed and said, "I'll convey the information to her straightaway," he assured, before boarding the carriage to Jane Reinhart's residence.

As the carriage rattled along, Sergeant Gruger couldn't shake off his disbelief.

"How did the case end up in a woman's hand?" No wonder they hadn't solved the case yet! He sighed in frustration. 

Hadn't Jane Reinhart worked under the famous detective Eidelson, she would have never received any case at all. With all due respect to Mr. Eidelson, the notion of entrusting women with such responsibilities seemed unnecessary. In Sergeant Gruger's view, women belonged in the home, tending to domestic affairs, not chasing down murderers.

He rang the bell as soon as he arrived at Reinhart's house, and then he waited in front of the door. He waited for a minute before he began to contemplate whether or not he ought to just inform the inspector that Miss Reinhart was too exhausted and overworked to take on the responsibility. Deciding to leave, he turned when the door finally opened. 

"Tell your miss that."

"Whatever it is, you can tell it to me, Sergeant Gruger," came a feminine voice from the front of the door. 

It was none other than Jane Reinhart, who was wearing two pairs of glasses that were balanced on the bridge of her small, straight nose. Her blonde hair, which was often tied into a bun, was now tied into a ponytail. She wore a black dress, which made the man a little comfortable. It was because he always found her in the same colour, as if she were ready to attend someone's funeral. 

"It was the inspector's request that I hand this over to you," Sergeant Gruger said, bringing the voodoo doll forward. 

At the sight of it, Jane took a sharp breath in before whispering, "There's been another death!"

"Aye. This time, near Roses Park, right above the arch of the bridge. The inspector told me to tell you to go to the commissioner and get access to the last murder cases. Find out if you come across anything that is comparable to the current crimes."

"The commissioner is on vacation this week. I won't be able to obtain access until he returns," Jane grimaced. The timing couldn't have been worse. 

"If you are incapable of doing it, I will be more than happy to find a workaround to—"

"No. That won't be required. I will find a way." Jane offered the man a polite smile. "Is that all?" 

"Yes. I believe yes. Take good care of the doll and see to it that you appear at the crime scen—"

"Goodnight, Sergeant Gruger," Jane said as she entered the house and slammed the door tight. "Goodnight." 

"Tch," the man who was standing outside the house said with a grimace before clicking his tongue. "There is not a single ounce of ladylike manners or etiquette in her."

"Arse!" Jane cursed the man from inside the house. 

When her caretaker, who was a middle-aged woman named Martha, emerged in the hallways, she apologised, "I am sorry for waking you up. You should go back to sleep."

"How can I sleep when you haven't gone to bed, Miss Jane? Who was at the door at this late hour?" the older woman asked.

"It was Sergeant Gruger," Jane replied.

"I assume this pertains to the ongoing investigation?"

"Mm. Another woman was murdered tonight. I will need to go check on the body to see if there's anything they might have missed," Jane said, grabbing her coat and startling the caretaker. 

"This late in the night? Did you not tell me that this person is targeting women?" 

Jane leaned in, kissing her caretaker's cheek, and cheekily said, "Which is why you need to make sure to lock the door once I leave. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you. Don't wait for me." 

"Nobody is going to attack an old lady. Can it not be done tomorrow? Miss Jane!" Martha called, but Jane had already stepped through the door. The woman sighed. "The girl has no sense of danger!" Out of all the professions, the young miss had chosen a profession that was not only dominated by men but also dangerous. 

"To the mortuary, Etienne," Jane informed.

"Right on, Miss Jane," her coachman hurried to the carriage door, opening for his young mistress and closing it. He jumped on the driver's seat before starting the carriage, and the two horses were quick to move from the shed, heading in the direction his mistress's required them to be.

Upon arriving at the mortuary, Jane made her way inside the building and met up with the assistant who worked there.

"Miss Jane." The male assistant's eyes shone at the sight of the woman amid the horrid place he worked in. "What can I do to assist you?"

"I am here to look at the body that was brought in maybe an hour or so ago," said Jane.

"Of course," the assistant replied, and then led her through the corridors to the entrance of a room. On the other hand, the door did not open when he turned the knob. "The door appears to have been locked, and it appears like Doctor Jenkins has left for the day." 

Jane's lips set themselves in a thin line. Why was the room being locked? It was possibly Sergeant Gruger's doing, as he liked to make things difficult for her. She replied, "That's fine. A spare key ought to be kept in the parish watch house at all times. It is not too far away either."

The assistant didn't bother to offer to accompany her. He had once done that in the past.

'Shall I come with you?'

'What for?' the lady had questioned.

'It is dark, and you would need a ride—'

'Perfect ambiance to ride in my carriage then.'

Upon arriving at the parish watch house, Jane stepped inside the room and saw a man standing next to the wall where the telephone was hoisted.

"Hello?" The man glanced at the earpiece for a moment before putting it back where it had been. The man acknowledged, "Miss Jane. The inspector and sergeant aren't here."

"That's not a problem. I am here for the spare master key to the mortuary in South River. I believe they have a spare locked in here." Jane raised her eyebrows in question. She added, "I need to look at a body. I would appreciate it if you could make it happen quickly."

The man nodded and said, "Please take a seat. I will be back soon with it."

And while she waited, the phone rang, cutting through the silence in the room. She turned to look in the direction where the man had disappeared. She walked towards the telephone and picked it up to speak.

"This is the parish watch house. How may I help you?" Jane picked up the register book and a pen to write.

"Hello, I am Sylvester Crowley. A burglar broke into my house."

"Could I get more details on where you live and what time it happened?"

"Yes. I live on Hootenanny Avenue, building thirteen. I went to work this morning, and when I returned twenty minutes ago, the door was left open. The burglar used my kitchen to make food and eat, leaving dishes."

"I see," Jane responded as she wrote down the details. "Does anyone have access to your house, Mr. Crowley?"

"Apart from me, the owner of the building has the master key. But she lives far away from here."

"What are the valuables that were taken from your house?"

"I don't think anything was stolen. But there is something."

"Yes?"

"My kitchen is restocked."

Jane paused from writing further and asked, "Excuse me?" wondering if she heard it right.

"All my groceries that I had to fill this morning have been stocked back. From eggs to flour, to soap."

The parish watch house must be full of surprising cases, Jane thought to herself. There were women being murdered, and this person was worried about his groceries being stocked. She couldn't help but be amused at the situation.

"Hello?"

"Ah, yes. Mr. Crowley, this is certainly a unique situation. Perhaps Santa visited someone early this year. I'll make a note of it, and we'll keep an eye on the area," she tried to keep her voice even. 

"What about finding the culprit?" 

"I assure you, Mr. Crowley, this is a first for us. I'll pass your complaint along, but I think we can chalk this one up as a rather amusing incident. Take care, and if your 'thief' brings more groceries, let us know!" Jane placed the telephone handle back in its original place. "Well, what a strange thing to happen."

She placed the book and ink pen back by the time the man, who had earlier left, returned.

"Here is the key," the man handed the cold metal to her.

"Thank you," Jane replied, and she left the parish watch house, ready to find out more about the killer they were dealing with.