The Cantor Dimension

by Delarose, Sharon

  Chief Hunsinger no longer expected to be successful in his search for Ann Weissmuller or her son, especially now that Tommy Wallace and Nick Darnell were suspects in the murder of Eric Weissmuller. The discoveries at the Starnes' farm had shed a whole new light on the Weissmuller case which had become an irksome thorn in Chief Hunsinger's side.

  He'd wanted to solve this case before Utica got the reputation of being a town full of crackpots. He didn't want the UFO groups to descend on Utica and set up shop. He was grateful that he no longer had to worry about such things. He did, however, want to follow through on the leads he'd previously been pursuing. Why leave loose ends? He sent out feelers looking for Luke Ansley. He figured if living people could disappear without a trace, maybe dead people could turn up somewhere alive and well. After all, the Starnes' ghost had turned out to be real, hadn't it? It sounded bizarre but then so was the whole Eric Weissmuller case until today. Eric had obviously discovered a crime ring and lost his life for the knowledge. The only sticky spot were the odd denials surrounding Eric's mother Ann.

  He found a Luke Ansley "down south" in Bloomington, Illinois. He dialed the number and a woman answered.

  "Hello?"

  "May I speak with Luke Ansley, please?"

  "Yes, just a moment..."

  A man's voice came on the line. " Hal-lo."

  "Luke Ansley?"

  "Yup."

  "I'm Chief Hunsinger in Utica. I wanted to ask you a couple of questions if you don't mind."

  "Am I in some sort of trouble?"

  "No, not at all. I'm trying to locate a missing person."

  "Sure, any help I can give. Ask away."

  "Were you ever married to an Alice Ansley? Her maiden name would've been Hollister."

  A prolonged silence ensued as Luke delved painfully into long forgotten memories. "Yes, I was married to Alice. That was a long time ago, though. What do you want?"

  "Tell me, what happened to her?"

  "She was killed in a burglary. Shot."

  "Did the two of you ever have children?"

  "We have a daughter, Mary, and Ann was carrying another child. She was seven months along."

  "The unborn baby... had you picked out any names?"

  "Only one... Ann. Alice was so sure it'd be a girl that she picked just that one name, Ann."

  "The baby died, too? Are you certain?"

  "Yes, I'm sure! I watched them both be buried. They were buried together in the same grave. That baby had been so close to being born," Luke's voice cracked. He paused for a moment, then continued. "They cut my Alice open and took the baby out. Baby Ann was alive but she died a couple of hours later. The doctors tried, they really tried! Ann was so small and helpless, she just wasn't strong enough. Nowadays they coulda saved her but... why do you want to know all this? It was a long time ago. A long time!"

  "I know Mr. Ansley, and I'm sorry. I was trying to locate a boy's mother and your wife was the closest lead I had."

  "What boy?"

  "Eric. Eric Weissmuller."

  "Hm, no. Never heard of him."

  "I didn't expect you had."

  "Who was his mother?"

  "Ann Ansley-Weissmuller.

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  THE JILTED HUSBAND

  Sixteen years prior to the Halley marriage, William Baker married the widow Joane Dawes in Middlesex County, which was adjacent to Kent County. As Halley filed Middlesex tax returns presumably for rental properties, both Joane and William may have been familiar with Halley, at least in name.

  If the Joane that Halley married was indeed the same Joane that William Baker had married, and she was indeed a Black Widow leaving a trail of jilted husbands in her wake, one might expect William to go chasing after Joane in spiteful revenge. Could this have set the stage for the gruesome murder of Joane's husband that happened forty four years later?

  Less than three months before the body of Edmond Halley the soap-boiler was found on the shore of the River Medway in Strood, there was another murder in the town of Strood.

  William Baker of Strood, a labourer, was arrested for the assault of one man, and separately for the murder of another. Baker assaulted his apprentice, Edward Cutbrush, on December 20, 1683, and cut off a piece of his right ear with a knife. Two days later he assaulted Richard Catt, who was also his apprentice. Baker kicked and punched Catt all over his head and body, inflicting the injuries from which Catt died on December 28, 1683. William Baker was found not guilty and thus released.

  Edmond Halley the soap-boiler was a man of wealth, owning a home of considerable size according to the London and Middlesex hearth tax records which taxed him for nine hearths. He also owned several rental properties and businesses at the time of his death. He was known primarily as a soap-boiler and salter but he owned rental houses and other properties including the Hen and Chickens and the Dog Tavern.

  He would thus hire others to perform tasks such as a labourer might perform. Is it possible that Halley hired William Baker as a labourer, thereby allowing Baker to become familiar with Halley? Or was William Baker already familiar with Halley by their mutual marriages to Joane? Is it possible that Baker, a known hot-head with the propensity for murder, then became Halley's murderer upon discovering his own wife's bigamy and adultery?

  Or could William Baker be related to James Baker who was one of the sixteen soap-boilers of London who were thrown into prison? If so, even though Halley was not a soaper of Westminster, the mere fact of his success as a soap-boiler might have triggered a fit of jealousy or rage in someone with an explosive temper as Baker was known to have.

  Perhaps Baker was connected to both the soapers and to Joane, giving him a two-fold reason to despise Edmond Halley. As there is a Baker who gave minor testimony at the Rye House trials, Halley could have triggered the three strike rule with Baker thereby tripping his explosive temper to another murder.

  As Halley's dead body had been found naked with most of his clothing and other effects unaccounted for, one of the three compasses designed by his astronomer son may have been among the senior Halley's possessions. As such it would have been lost from the Halley family and now be in the possession of the descendants of William Baker.

  Less than fifty miles from Strood is the village of Hoo St. Werburgh on the Hoo Peninsula which separates the River Medway from the Thames River. The name William Baker pops up again in connection with the murder of William White, a yeoman farmer in Hoo, on December 11, 1808. Someone fired a musket loaded with pebbles through White's window. The shot entered the back of his head and exited just under his right eye, killing him in front of his entire family. They found the gun but not the murderer. There were several viable suspects but not enough evidence to charge any of them. William Baker was one of the many persons who fingered George White, the victim's son, as a suspect.

  The victim was considered among the gentry of the village, one of only two franchised householders and therefore allowed to vote. As his house was full of family at the time of the murder, no stranger could have entered for the purpose of stealing anything so thievery was not likely the motive. It was believed that he knew his killer and that his killer had familiarity with the layout of the house to make such a perfect shot from outside the house. Like the Halley murder, the White murder was never solved.

  Another William Baker in Kent County, England made headlines for murderous assault on a policeman in 1882 according to the Kentish Express and Ashford News. Was William Baker from the year 1808 the descendant of accused murderer William Baker from the year 1684? Was the murderous William Baker from 1882 a descendant as well? Are there any others?

  Five William Bakers arrived at Ellis Island from London, England between 1905 and 1922. If there is a direct lineage from any of the Ellis Island Bakers back down the line to the William Baker that lived at the time of the senior Edmond Halley, could one of the compasses made by the astronomer Halley now be in the United States? If so, where is it now?

&n
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  * * *

  Max

  Alice slumped to the floor, her tiny frame overcome with sobs that wrenched her entire body. Max was clutching Jerome's shirt yelling, "Bastard! You dirty rotten bastard!" Jerome lay trembling in a pool of blood. His eyes still held a fanatical gleam.

  "Why?" Max demanded. "Why?"

  Jerome fastened his hate-filled eyes on Max.

  "Starnes! Must... kill... Billy Starnes! Save Emily! Must... kill... Billy..." Jerome's words faded as his body went limp. Jerome was dead, his face frozen in a permanent mask of hatred. Max let go of Jerome's shirt, letting him fall to the floor with a loud thud. Respect for the dead didn't extend to bastards like Jerome.

  Max turned to Alice who was still huddled on the floor with the gun in her hand. "Alice, are you all right? Are you hurt?"

  "You saved my life," she whispered as if in a trance.

  "Alice, look at me," Max urged. He went over to Alice, lifting her chin with his finger. "Alice, are you all right?" he asked again.

  She raised her eyes to meet his. "Yes, I'm all right. The baby!" she pleaded, the fear returning to her eyes.

  Max lifted her up and carried her to the sofa. He laid her down gently. "Is there a doctor nearby?" he asked softly.

  "No. The doctor's in town, where Luke went. Am I going to lose our baby Ann?" she sobbed.

  Max's tone was firm. "No, I don't think so. You just lie here and rest until Luke comes home. You're going to be fine, Alice. You and the... Ann... are going to be fine."

  He went into the kitchen and put a kettle of water on the cookstove. Minutes later, he brought her a strong cup of tea laced with the brandy he'd seen on the fireplace mantle. Max knew pregnant women weren't supposed to drink liquor but he figured that in this case, Alice needed a sedative if she were going to hang onto that baby.

  Alice was fast asleep when Luke returned with the ginger spice. Max had dragged Jerome's body outside and left it lying behind the barn. Luke sauntered up to the door, whistling. The whistle died on his lips when he opened the door and saw the dried pool of blood on the kitchen floor.

  Luke's mouth opened to scream Alice's name when Max grabbed his arm and shushed him, tiptoeing toward the living room where Alice lie sleeping with Mary in the bassinet nearby. Max urgently motioned for Luke not to wake mother and child. Luke assured himself that she was alive and breathing and then followed Max outside.

  "What in tarnations happened here?!" Luke demanded.

  Max gave him a brief account of the afternoon's events, ending with the presentation of Jerome's body behind the barn.

  "Jerome!" Luke spat. "I shoulda known. We allus knew that nothing good would ever come of him, but I never expected he'd try to hurt my Alice." Luke lifted his hand to his forehead and sat weakly on an empty crate. He stared blindly into space, realizing just how close he'd come to losing his Alice.

  "You know him? You know Jerome?"

  Luke looked at Max, his face full of sorrow. "Yes, Jerome was Alice's nephew. He was the son of Alice's sister, Thelma, who was married to William Baker. Thelma was better off when William died. He was a real rascal, he was, disappearing on her for weeks at a time. Sometimes he'd come back with a wad of money in his pocket but he'd allus spend it fast. He left Thelma with nothing but debts and a son who took after his father. Jerome's name is actually William Jerome Baker, but everybody called him Jerome so as not to mix him up with his father."

  Suddenly it all clicked and Max knew where Jerome had gotten his compass. William Jerome Baker was descended from the William Baker of Kent County, England, who Max suspected had murdered Edmond Halley the soap-boiler. He was also the Jerome who was selling rings from the stolen Pallasite meteorite. It all made sense now.

  Max gently put his hand on Luke's arm. "Luke, I need to ask you, do you know someone named Billy Starnes or Emily?" Luke nodded his head affirmatively. Max urged further, "Who are they? I need to know. It may be important."

  Luke turned his attention to Max. "Important? Why?"

  "The last thing he said before he died was that he must kill Billy Starnes and save Emily. Do you have any idea what he meant by that?"

  "No, the Starnes are a good family. They live yonder near Utica. Billy's the son, or one of them. He's the youngest. Then there's Beau and Bobby, his brothers, and Bridgette, his sister. Emily is Billy's fiancee. They're due to be married in a couple of fortnights. The whole town's abuzz over it as young Billy plans to take his new bride and live way up north somewhere. Some Yankee city, I reckon. Her kinfolk ain't none too happy about it. Emily is a Baker. She is Jerome's cousin. Her family isn't like Jerome or his father. Emily comes from good stock."

  Max frowned. "So Jerome is Emily's cousin and you think he killed Billy just to keep him from moving Emily far away?"

  "Yup, that sounds like something Jerome would do. He was a hothead, allus picking fights for no good reason. But I can tell you one thing, Billy would never hurt Emily. He's not like the rest of us, he's soft. Can't even ring a chicken's neck without crying like a babe. He's not suited to the farming life. Too soft, too delicate, almost like a girl. He'd never hurt Emily. This Jerome is kin of hers and just didn't want her following Billy up to Yankee country."

  "Could be," Max agreed, but he doubted it. A man doesn't travel decades back in time just to prevent someone from moving somewhere. There had to be more to it. Max would probably never know Jerome's reasons but the future was set on its correct course. Max had prevented Jerome from tampering with history. He shuddered, thinking of the implications. He asked Luke if he could take the compass and ring that Jerome was carrying. Luke didn't hesitate, considering it a gift for saving Alice and Ann.

  Max and Luke buried Jerome's body far out in the woods. Alice had awakened and the three of them sat talking over tea. Alice explained how she'd caught Jerome in the bedroom trying to steal some money from the drawer. He was talking nonsense about needing the money to take Emily away somewhere safe.

  "We're mighty grateful to you, Max. Mighty grateful." Luke seemed unconcerned over the tears that spilled unchecked down his sun-bronzed cheeks.

  Alice smiled shyly, her hands resting on her stomach. "Baby Ann is kicking!" she exclaimed. Both men grinned. Alice looked at Luke and he nodded. "Luke and I were wondering if you'd stay for a few days."

  Max was glad he'd taken all those trips to prepare Brody for an event such as this. He could've been killed! Brody would be angry if he knew that most of Max's secret trips really were just business trips to research his articles, and that he really was a writer. Very few of the "trips" he had taken were connected to the Cantor papers. Max looked from Luke to Alice, back to Luke.

  "Sure!" he beamed. "I'd love to!"

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  * * *

  Rochester, New York

  Ellen glanced at her watch, irritated. She'd been standing for several minutes in front of the window. Snowflakes floated gently past the window covering the ground in a smooth, white blanket. Soft halos surrounded the streetlights in the parking lot.

  She searched for signs of Pat's car down below. You couldn't mistake Pat's old Volkswagen bug. It had originally been a dark green but over the years several body sections had been replaced turning it into a patchwork of red, yellow, orange and green. Pat's little toy car stood out like a blazing beacon of color at the end of one white row.

  "Thank God," Ellen thought. She and Pat were due at a wedding reception in an hour and a half. They were supposed to meet Jimmy and Greg at Jimmy's house in Gates, which was on the way to the reception. The party was in Churchville which was a good hour's drive from Ellen's. Pat had promised to be on time. She had a habit of being late.

  A knock at the door interrupted her sojourn at the window. She ran to the door and opened it. "Pat!" she said, relieved. "Where have you been?"

  "Oh God, Ellen, I am so sorry! I had to go by my grandparent's house and drop off Grandpa's heart pills. He ran out yesterday and didn't tell anyone and G
ram's sick with the flu. I called to check on them and that's when he told me that he needed his refills. I had to go to the drugstore and get them. God, that place was packed! Eighty million people buying wrapping paper and cards and doing their Christmas shopping in a friggin' drugstore," she snorted.

  "I didn't know your grandfather Phillips had a heart condition."

  "No, not Grandpa Phillips... Grandpa Starnes. You met them a couple of times, I think. Billy and Emily Starnes from Illinois. Her family never forgave Gramps for taking her away and moving her up here to Rochester but there wasn't much they could do about it. Grams was a stubborn one and she'd set her sights on Gramps. She was the apple of their eye so they had to give in. She threatened to run away and follow him to New York if they didn't!"

  "You never told me all that!"

  "Shit! It gets better! Or worse, I should say. After they moved here Emily was in a bad car accident that left her with a limp for life. She also lost her sight in one eye."

  "Wow, that's horrible!" Ellen exclaimed.

  Pat continued, "Anyway, Emily's cousin Jerome swore he'd make Gramps pay for bringing Emily here where she got hurt so bad, then Jerome disappeared without a trace. Imagine, someone wanting revenge against Grandpa for something that happened a half a century ago! And it wasn't even Grandpa's fault. I hope that Jerome guy doesn't come around again. I'm kinda worried about Gramps."

  "Well, he was probably just blowing off steam. I doubt he'll be back."

  "I hope so, Ellen. Are you ready to go? We've got to get to Greg and Jimmy's house. We're late already and they're going to be mad as jilted bulls!"

  "Yes, I'm ready. Let's go!"

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  Utica, Illinois

  Eric was bent over his truck trying to readjust the carburetor. "This blasted pin keeps sticking," he muttered under his breath. An engine screamed in the distance. Eric grinned and wiped his hands on an oily rag. He always knew when Mark was coming. Mark usually ran his '67 Mustang at top speed and most folks called him a gearhead. Eric closed the hood and cut the engine. Mark arrived with a squeal of brakes to find Eric sitting on the hood of his truck.