The Baizetown Ripper

It had been a year since the discovery of the first body by the Smiths couple. A foul stench brought it to their attention during their morning walk. They thought it was some decomposing animal carcass. It turned out to be the rotting body of Silvia Minuti, a 33 year old town clerk. Her body looked like it had been mauled by animals, her face and chest seemed to have taken the worst of it. Her limbs however seemed to have been chopped clean off her torso and was arranged around her head like sunflower petals made of rotting meat and bones. The Smiths first vomited, and then called the cops. Thus began the chain of events that led up to this cold November night.

Baizetown was a typical town you would find anywhere around the country. It lied between Dallas and Waco, was home to families whose parents worked in the surrounding bigger cities. It was a charming little place, where nothing exciting ever happens. The town’s leisurely pace was why Steve Grable chose it. He used to be a high strung investment banker in New York. A big city guy who thought coming to small town would bring more stability and peace into his life. But then being deputized by the town sheriff put an end to all that. He had the Baizetown Ripper to thank for that.

On this night, Steve walked over to the window and parted the blinds just enough to see if the chaos outside had fizzled out.

‘Are they still out there?’ a gruff voice called from behind.

‘Yes, boss. And it looks like they told their friends from the city too.’

‘Damn it. How did word spread so fast?’

Sheriff Jorge Valdez was still hot from those reporter’s lights flooding on him when he was leading the suspect in. How did they know? He had contacted the DA’s office as soon as he’d received the call from the suspect. He was told ADA Clarke and her team is on their way. Let the lawyers handle this mess. All he was going to do was being a babysitter till they arrived.

‘Steve, can you go check if he needs anything?’

‘Me? Can’t you send Ralph or any of the seniors?’

‘Are you scared of that old geezer back there?’

‘If he really is what he says, he’s not just another geezer off the street, boss.’

The Sheriff drummed his fingers on his desk, still thinking about the press. ‘Fine, take Ralph with you.’

Steve gave a ‘yes boss’ wave and went to the main lobby where the rest of the force were. Susan the clerk was manning the phone calls, and telling the reporter where to shove their questions.

There were just a handful others there. B’town never had need for more than a couple lawmen at any given time. Until now. One of the reason they deputized Steve in the first place.

The crew were at the window looking at the scene outside. Ralph was the big guy with his uniform shirt trying very hard to keep all that hard muscle tucked in. He turned around to see Steve coming.

‘Steve, man, what’s the deal? Those reporters outside are ready to riot.’

‘Boss doesn’t want any information going out till the lawyers get here. You and I, in the meantime, are to go check if the guy is still breathing.’

Ralph, always eager, hurried his way to the interrogation room with Steve trailing behind him. He was trying to catch up to the young man’s pace. They crossed Susan’s desk, who gave them a look of complete surrender. A lousy night all around clearly..

Ralph was the first one to enter the room. The old man was the same as he was an hour ago, seated with his wrists shackled to the top of the table. He was silently staring the glass wall in front of him, to the right side of the room. He did not react to them entering the room and turn on the lights on.

Ralph was the first to talk, ‘Hey man, Sheriff wants to know if you wanted anything? A drink or a bathroom break or summin?’

No reaction.

They looked at each other. Ralph prodded again, ‘Look man, the infantry is going to be here soon now and I don’t think the ADA is going to allow--‘

‘So it’s Gracie who decided to show up, that’s kind of her.’

This took Steve by surprise, ‘How do you know who--? Yes Assistant District Attorney Grace Clarke is on her way to interview you. And you still haven’t answered, do you need anything?’

‘Nothing. I am just about done here. Would one of you mind sticking around till the show starts? It gets awful lonely in here all by myself.’

Steve got that feeling again, something is not right. This guy seems way too calm. Is a person supposed to be this calm under these conditions? And how would Steve know it anyway, he looked at long excel sheets and ledgers not figure out the mental state of a possible serial murderer. But he was a curious man, and all this has peaked his interest. He glanced at the handcuffs around his old frail wrists, they looked tight enough.

‘Okay, I’ll stick around. Ralph will you get us something to drink from the vending machine. Coke good, old man?’ he asked the suspect. The old man nodded.

Ralph stood there like a deer in front of headlights. He was admittedly not the smartest of the lot, but Sheriff Valdez trusted his instincts, and all his inner radars were screaming not to leave Steve alone with the guy.

‘Steve are you sure? I can get somebody else to get it, the vending machine is in the other wing. And the Sheriff did not want us staying back here right?’ Ralph tilted his head to the old man.

Steve thought to himself. ‘Even he is scared of this guy’

‘It is alright Ralph. We are going to be just fine aren’t we?’

The old man smiled and shrugged his shoulders, saying I’m harmless.

The two cops looked at each other agreeing silently to be cautious. As the doors were closing behind, Steve turned to the old man and looked him over. The man was tall and slender, at least seventy. But still sat straight and looked capable of taking care of himself. He wore a simple dark woollen sweater over a pale blue shirt which was buttoned up to his neck, he wore a black scarf around his neck. He looked like he had spent some time choosing his outfit before calling the Sheriff’s office. He was a precise man with a precise posture, and his face did not give anything away. At least not anything that he didn’t want to.

After a few moments of silent scrutiny, it was the old man who spoke first.

‘You are not from around here, are you?’

‘No just moved here last year. How’d you know?’

‘You’d never have agreed to stay in the room with me if you were.’

Steve shifted in his chair. The old man noticed it, ‘Don’t be nervous. I mean no harm. It is just a small town thing. Come let’s not be strangers, I am Robert Van Clumm. I’d shake your hands if I could’ he lifted his palms up from where they were shackled on the table.

Steve took a second to reply, ‘I am Steve Grable, the sheriff added me to the force temporarily last month. And the cuffs stay, Mr Van Clumm, it’s the rule.’

‘I sure understand. Do you like urban legends Mr Grable?’

‘Um. Yes, sure.’

‘There is a famous one around here. It is about a family who came into this town from a distant country. They work and prosper during the old times of southern plantations. Nobody ever got to see what exactly it was that they produced in their farm. No guests were invited into their estate. Nor did they do a lot of business with the local merchant families. Most think it was alcohol, which was banned back then. They lived a private life. But their secrecy led to gossips being spread about them. It was said they were part of a secret cult, and they were slaughtering children in their farm, and that they slept with animals. People grew to doubt them, then dislike them, and then to fear them.’

‘I should not be talking to this guy without lawyers’ Steve thought to himself. But he was too hooked to just leave the room yet. Instead Steve asked, ‘Let me guess, this was your family?’

The old man smiled, ‘Yes, quite so. But the last of my folks had left this godforsaken place decades ago. Some of us decided to preserve the estate. Something to come back to someday I suppose. Many of us are dead now though. Only I remain of the erstwhile Van Clumm family.’

‘Um I am sorry to hear that.’

The old man gave a chuckle at that, his first humanly expression, ‘You would not be when I’m done talking here. You see, a lonely life with none of your loved ones around is a miserable life. You are stuck in a big home with nothing but you and your thoughts to keep you company. You begin to question your own existence and why it is that you were to have this life, this life of burden loneliness and stench. Oh the stench. But it is all over now. I think I am about done. Hence the Ripper.’

Steve started fidgeting again. He wanted to know to everything that this guy had to say, but he also didn’t want to be the only one listening.

‘I really think we shouldn’t talk anymore. I will be waiting outside, Ralph should be back soon with your drink.’

The old man shrugged, spread his palms and leaned back into his chair. ‘Sure, if that’s what you want Mr Grable. I am not sure Sara would enjoy the wait though.’

Sara was Steve’s wife.

‘What do you mean? How do you know Sara?’ Steve only heard half of it, he’d already yanked out his cell phone and was frantically dialling his wife’s phone, the home phone, anything that he can reach. But his calls went unanswered.

‘Why is she not answering? Where is she? What have you done to my wife?!’ Steve sprang up from his chair, which fell backwards on the floor with a bang.

‘Nothing yet, Mr Grable. Your wife is safe. But only till you do what I request of you.’

The old man just sat there looking at him, quietly smiling. Steve took one look at that smile and lost his cool. He came around the table and grabbed him by his shirt-front and yanked him up. The suspect’s handcuffs was the only thing keeping him on his chair. Steve was threatening the old man with every cuss word he’d learned in his 50 years on this planet. The old man did not react, just sat there and kept smiling like he was watching the world’s most predictable sitcom show. Steve was shivering all over. He tried to calm himself down a bit, and went back to his side of the table. Only he didn’t take his seat this time, he was too amped up to sit down anymore.

‘Relax, Steve. I mean no harm to you or your wife. In fact I think she is a lovely woman and you are a decent man. You both would soon be together, if you do the little thing I ask of you.’

Steve was squeezing his palms together to try and control its shaking. ‘Like what?’

‘For starters, would you help me and bolt the door shut.’

Steve looked again at the cuffs on the Van Clumm’s wrists again. They still looked tight. But then this guy also did just admit to kidnapping his wife of 30 years, who knows what else he is capable of.

Steve didn’t think he had any choice, he went towards the doors and locked them in.

‘That’s good. Thank you, Mr Grable. I think we’ll get along just fine.’

Steve grunted his reply. ‘Let’s get on with this. Do you want me to help you escape or something?’

‘No no, Mr Gable, nothing of that sort. All I want you to do is - take out your gun and shoot me in the head.’

Steve just sat there staring at the old guy, and then started laughing.

‘You are joking right? All this is a joke! Was this Sara’s idea? Is she in on this? They are all standing behind that mirror looking at us right?’

Steve stood up and walked over to the glass wall and pressed his face close to it trying to look to the other side. It didn’t seem to him anyone was there on the other side. He turned to look at the old man again. He still sat there calmly as someone who’d just asked you to pass the salt at dinner and waiting for it.

Steve’s hand absently moved towards the holster strapped under his left armpit. His shaking was worse now. He was not a violent man. He’d spent most of his life in the sheltered comforts of the big city. He even disliked carrying the pistol around, but it was the rule.

The old man saw his hand reach for the gun and smiled. He knew he had chosen the right guy for the job.

‘You have done well so far, Mr Grable. You’ve come to the room to check on me, you asked your friend to go get the drink for us even when every bone in your body was telling you not to. You have me securely locked into this interrogation room. You have been very brave and proper throughout. All that is left for you is to take that gun of yours, point it at my skull here and pull the trigger.’

The door knob rattled. It was Ralph. He knocked the door. ‘Steve, are you in there? Why is this door locked? We’re not supposed to lock these doors.’

Steve looked over to the door. The old man’s gaze however was locked on him.

Steve moved closer to the door.

‘Mr Grable. Of course I cannot stop you from opening that door. But then I cannot also guarantee to tell you where your wife is in time. It is your decision. I just hope she’s still breathing when you do find her.’

Steve was a man in a predicament. He does not think he can actually kill anyone. But he is also scared that this maniac has done something to his wife. For all he knew his wife was stuck in a safe underwater somewhere.

‘You only have to pull the trigger. I have arranged for you to know of your wife’s whereabouts as soon as we are done here. You have my word Mr Grable.’

‘The word of a psycho’ Steve thought to himself, ‘open the door, Steve. Get the Sheriff in here, he will know how to deal with this madman.’

The banging continued. Ralph was still yelling out for him to open the door.

‘You know what I am. You know what I have done. Do you really think I do not deserve your bullet? Do you really think I deserve to live more than your wife? Your wife with her long blonde hair. And her pretty little face.’

Steve could hear Ralph on his walkie-talkie calling for backup. The old man intently looking up at him.

‘She does have beautiful skin, your wife. And that scent. I really did enjoy that. I wondered for a long time how it would taste. It was everything I thought it would be.’

Steve went pale. His body was cold, his hands were shivering. He came around the table, at the same time he whipped out the gun from his holster.

He started smacking the old man with the butt of his pistol. The old man was laughing maniacally. With each blow Steve was yelling, ‘What have you done to my wife? Where is my wife? Where is Sara?’

The old man only laughed more, that made Steve bring down the butt of his gun harder onto his face each time. Soon his laughing was muffled by the squelching sounds of the pistol pushing to his bloody face. The old man’s face was bloody and swollen. It did not look like a face of a man anymore. And his crazy laugh still coming out of him made him look all the more ghoulish.

More hands were pounding on the door. Steve could also hear voices coming from the other side of the glass wall. But none of it registered into Steve’s head.

‘Do it Steve. Do it. Or I will haunt you forever. Kill me. Beat me. Save her, save your wife. Don’t be a coward, Steve.’

‘My Sara. My sweet Sara.’ Tears were rolling down Steve’s face as he kept bring down the pistol butt on this man’s face. Blood was pouring down his neck and shoulders, making pools of red around the chair. Even his laugh had stopped. All he was able to make now was a guttural sound each time Steve’s hand came down. Steve’s had was bleeding now too. The gun slipped away with all the blood. He kicked it aside and was now beating the old man’s face with his fists.

‘I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I am so sorry.’

Something heavy was banging at the door. Steve didn’t notice, he was now numb to everything outside. All that existed now was him and his hatred for this old man for what he has made him do.

The door came loose at the hinges. Ralph was the first one in, and what he saw drained all the blood off his face. He saw someone who used to be the quiet Mr Steve Grable, covered in blood standing over the limp body of an old man, punching it with his bare bloody bleeding fists. The body did not have any face left to speak of, was clearly dead and was of the suspect he’d left here with Steve just a few moments ago.

His colleagues came from behind him and pulled Steve away from the old man. They were followed by ADA Clarke, her team and Susan. Susan went over to the old man and touched his neck to check for a pulse. She felt none.

ADA Clarke looked at the limp body, ‘Dammit. Will somebody tell what the hell happened here? Is that Bob Van Clumm? What was he doing here? Why was he handcuffed to the table? Why didn’t any of you tell me it was him you had here?’

Steve was crying in the corner flanked by two cops. ‘My Sara. My sweet Sara’ He kept repeating.

She looked at him and then the others, ‘Who is he? What happened to him? Who is Sara?’

It was Susan who replied, ‘Sara is his wife. I spoke to her two hours ago, she called in from Tom’s Diner saying she’d gone there when some nut kept calling their home asking about the Ripper.’

Steve stopped his mumbling and looked at the Susan, dumbstruck. ‘She’s safe?’

Clarke turned back to Susan, ‘What nut? When did she get this call?’

Susan frowned trying to recall the conversation, ‘I think she said tonight at 8’

One of the deputies interrupted, ‘We did not get the call from this guy till 9’

Clarke pointed over to bloody body on the chair, ‘That guy? That guy lying dead in your interrogation room is a suicidal schizo. He is on enough meds to put an elephant to coma. The court’s put him on house arrest for nearly a decade now. I was present for his hearing.’

Everyone looked at the dead body and at Steve. Nobody understood what has happened here, but they all understood it was something horrible.

Clarke could not take the silence anymore, ‘Will someone try and explain to me what the fuck just happened?’

That’s when Sheriff Valdez walked in. He was in the adjoining room, on the other side of the two-way glass wall. The Sheriff took off his hat, and placed it on the blood splattered table. He took a glance at the old man’s body. And then to Steve cowering in the corner and mumbling, with his crazed eyes fixed at the old man.

And Valdez began, ‘I wish I’d been here earlier. It might have made all the difference. So all I can tell you is how it happened..’