The Dandy Boys Mysteries (Vengeance Book 0)

by Peter J. Wacks

  Relieved that the entire town was not out to harm them, though he would never show it, he proceeded upstairs with his burden of pitcher and bucket of charcoal to assist.

  Upon arriving in Weyland’s room, he found Friedrich in the corner, nervously organizing bottles, sketchpads, and odd contraptions of the natural philosopher as Wilson organized accouterments of the physician’s trade.

  Soon the men were treated with the tincture and thus induced to vomit again into empty chamber pots.

  The night passed, and they slowly recovered as the poison passed from their system, and the next morning they were able to rouse themselves enough to have broth and small pieces of bread. Against Wilson’s wishes, Rufus and Weyland were determined to be quit of the village as soon as possible. To this effect, Niles engaged a farmer’s cart to return them to Liverpool, while Friedrich and he took the horses back by similar means. Niles wanted to take the matter further, perhaps even to the courts of law, but since Sir Peel’s policing forces were not yet strong in such rural areas, he saw the pointlessness of the endeavor.

  Journal Four

  The Kraken of Ballybrack

  Entry One

  Despite the clear sky and bright sun that warmed the ground and shone upon the flowers below the exterior of the windows, the interior of the common room was dark and smelled faintly of old ale and cheap tobacco. It looked much as one might have expected of the public house of a small fishing village at the time of the reformation—which in truth may have been when this particular building was, for lack of a better word, constructed.

  It was into this monument of social and financial destitution—whose sole quality of value was its antiquity—which stepped the young Friedrich Von Helsing and his colleague William Owen Wilson, whereupon they joined the three remaining members of their Fellowship, who were at that moment sitting within the shadows of the poorly lit chamber.

  The dingy globes of the two gas lamps muted what little light they produced, and the shabby windows were resistant to the efforts of the solar orb. These factors combined to confer upon much of the chamber a series of deep shadows. What could be seen was more a hint of things rather than the things themselves, and was discernable promised the gentlemen that they did not wish to see the whole of their environment more clearly.

  “How goes the inquiry?” asked Niles from behind the brim of a simple pint mug.

  Wilson frowned, looking about for the Colleen in the hopes that he might acquire a drink. “Morbidly, I am afraid. Not a word was given on the subject, despite our probings.”

  Wilson looked to Friedrich for confirmation of this report.

  “Not quite so dismal as all that,” said Friedrich, as he took a seat, “but none-the-less fruitless. And what of your pursuits here?”

  “Very much the same.” Rufus set down his glass and let go a heavy sigh. “We were subtle with our inquiries, but these are no fools. The staff here were able to put their finger upon it soon enough.”

  Weyland grimaced and pushed away a suspicious-looking plate of pork scratchings, more fit for a bite than a meal. “Well, it is not as though doing so was, mind you. We do not exactly pass without notice. It is not unreasonable to presume that we have an agenda, and given the state of affairs, I doubt that even the children of this town lack the ability to ascertain our true purpose.”

  “Still,” said Wilson, “it would be nice if we could find at least one person who might be willing to discuss the matter. It is as though the entire village has convened and determined to pretend as though nothing has occurred.”

  “Face it, dear fellow,” said Niles, reaching for the pork, “we are outsiders. Whatever has happened is a matter which they wish to keep private. It is not for us to inquire about such things, and they have made this point resoundingly clear.”

  Wilson spread his hands in acceptance. “Naturally, but something has clearly happened. No less than eight gravestones have been freshly placed. Eight young men, in good health by my estimation, died on the same day, and I have cause to suspect that some of these bodies were not entirely intact. Whether the inquiry is welcome or no, I do not think we should abandon this case.”

  “Really,” said Niles, “the bodies not intact? What makes you say this?”

  Friedrich lowered his voice and leaned in to address the Fellows. “We had the opportunity to press the matter somewhat forcefully with the young grocer’s boy. He revealed that there was a mass service this last Sunday and that several of the caskets were presented unopened. Despite that he would not say why, he clearly knew the reason, and was put off by the notion of it.”

  “But not all of the caskets, you say?” asked Rufus.

  “That is correct, only a few.”

  Rufus leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “I wonder why that would be.”

  Friedrich shrugged. “I cannot rightly say, but we were able to surmise that the event occurred on the water. All of the victims were fishermen by trade—as indicated on their markers—and the event seems to have occurred while they were on the water, just as our rumor suggested.”

  Niles turned to regard Wilson with eyebrows raised. “Perhaps we should discuss what it means for a thing to be morbid, my dear boy. Your investigation was far more productive than you have indicated.”

  “My opinions are what they are,” said Wilson, “as are my perceptions. I do not answer to you, nor do I owe you an account of my justifications. Any misunderstanding which may occur between us as a result is of little concern to me.”

  “And you lot say that I am the one prone to spells of mania. I dare say, my dear Wilson, you sound rather American.”

  Wilson opened his mouth to respond, but it was Friedrich who spoke first. “Be that as it may, we were unable to reveal any witnessed accounts. At this point, we are operating upon mere speculation. In short, we have nothing upon which to base our conclusions. So let us avoid asserting any solutions before first acquiring further data.”

  “I agree.” Rufus nodded. “All that we know thus far is that eight men died while working the nets, and that at least a portion of their number was disfigured in the process. This is hardly more than we knew when we set upon this task.”

  “How then do we proceed?” asked Niles.

  Wilson responded with a shake of his head, “We have no cause to impose upon the privacy of these people. Nor do we possess any authority with which to coerce compliance. We have the names of the fallen, and so we possess the ability to identify relatives.”

  He then glanced about the table, and finding no disagreement amongst the Fellows, he continued, “I suggest that we—that is to say myself and Rufus—call upon the bereaved and offer our condolences. Of those related, we may be able to find one who is willing to discuss the medical nature of the event.”

  It was with little effort that Wilson succeeded in bringing his fellows into agreement with his proposal, and a short time later, the two physicians exited the squat building which stood as one of the two public houses in the speckled townland that was Ballybrack; out of the darkness of a soon to be forgotten past, and into the light of a soon to be altered present.

  Entry Two

  The antiquated village of Ballybrack was a small and quiet suburb of Dublin. Roughly one half day’s ride south of the city proper, this seaside hamlet was only now experiencing the first effects of the changing world of steam. Because it was not situated upon the turnpike, Ballybrack received only a small share of the custom from traveling merchants. This point had been made even more acute as of late by the industry-wide reduction in highway transportation, a fact which had resulted in a tightening of Ballybrack’s rather small purse strings.

  Dublin proper was unaffected by this turn of events as the goods associated with such transport had continued to reach the city by alternate means. In fact, the process of industrialization had increased the city’s demand for such goods, and as a result of industry, the city was growing at a steady and rapid rate. Dublin’s rate of growth had been
such that it was hardly able to internally meet the demands which had been placed upon both land and space. As such, many of Ballybrack’s neighboring suburbs had begun to service one or more of the specific industrial needs of Dublin proper.

  The most notable of these was likely Dundrum, which had recently finished construction of a skyport. As a result, Dundrum now possessed the port closest to the Dublin harbor, and as such, serviced the largest share of commercial goods, which were to be transferred from naval to aerial transport and vice-versa. It was a decision that was already paying dividends to investors, but which was forever altering what it meant to live in Dundrum.

  The residents of Ballybrack could not be—and were not—blind to this, and they had rather clearly responded as many other villages were. Rather than embracing the changing winds, they constricted like a capillary in an open wound. They had become introverted and resistant to anything from the larger outside world, for fear that it might indicate or precipitate irreparable changes to their way of life. This included the Fellowship of Adventurer Scholars. Their presence was a personification—or at the very least a symptom—of the changes which these villagers feared to embrace.

  If the mere fact that they were outsiders were not enough to silence the tongues of the populace, the gentleman scholars had imposed—wittingly or otherwise—their imperial presence on a town in morning and had persisted in asking a series of questions which clearly made the locals uncomfortable, and which were clearly unwelcomed.

  The reason for these questions mattered not. The community had been set on edge by the simple fact of a strange occurrence, and they were content to simply pretend, as best they could, as though it had never happened. Instead, they were inundated with inquiries from—by all people—wealthy British Gentlemen who presumed the authority to interfere in private affairs. This context was first recognized by Wilson, who had explained the matter to his colleagues the day before. This observation was, in part, the reason why he had suggested a limitation with regards to which of the Fellows were to approach and interact with the public.

  The continued investigation was not easy. Word had passed between the members of this community, and more than once, the physicians were met with hurried residents whose attention was demanded elsewhere by urgent matters unspecified. There were some, however, who disdained the idea of altering their affairs on account of a few irritatingly posh travelers, and who had thus cast aside pretense entirely.

  In these cases, the Fellows were subjected to intentionally cold shoulders and harsh words. One of these was a particularly salty old man who introduced them to more than one previously unknown profanity. This was done during the course of informing the two men as to precisely why it was that their presence was unwelcomed and ensuring that they understood full well that no person within the whole of Ballybrack would deign to speak with them. To evidence this point, and to prove the futility of their efforts, the veteran fisherman pointed the two physicians to the families of three of the deceased men.

  Entry Three

  “Don’t you be coming ’round here, bringing up the ghosts of the dead,” said the old crone, upon their arrival. “You best let me boy lie as he do. It be none of yer place to poke yer nose where it ain’t wanted. Ain’t welcome, and ain’t wanted!”

  Wilson lifted his hands defensively. “Madam, we do not wish to …”

  “I know damn well what you are about!” She interrupted the physician harshly and easily, despite his deeply commanding voice. “And we don’t want none of what you be selling. Take yer fish oils, and yer cure-alls, and yer questions, and be gone with ye. We don’t want none of what ye got, and we don’t want ye getting any o’ what we got. So git!”

  “We only wish to help,” said Wilson.

  “Yeah?” the old woman spat. “And how do ye propose to do that exactly? There ain’t nothin’ you can do ’cept pick at fresh wounds. Git gone then, and don’t ye be botherin’ us no more.” With that, she closed her door firmly and soundly against the faces of the two Fellows.

  Rufus frowned. “Another pointless effort. We are wasting our time investigating a simple matter of no consequence. Surely you must acknowledge this much.” He continued speaking as the two men walked the few short steps to the edge of the street. “Our only reason for supporting a theory of mysterious events is the unpleasant and uncooperative treatment which we have received from the locals. You yourself have answered any question of their behavior and thereby eliminated this factor as an element for consideration. I see no reason why we should continue our efforts; it is hardly an unusual occurrence that a ship was lost at sea.”

  “Come now, Rufus,” said Wilson, “you know as well as any other that all elements are worth consideration. Besides, while a lost boat is not, in and of itself, uncommon, the remainder of these events are most certainly abnormal. Should I remind you of the more glaring factors? First, most losses at sea occur in foul weather and at some distance from the shore. For these reasons, the bodies are seldom recovered. The event reported to us, and which we have verified, is quite different. The deaths occurred on a day with more or less perfect weather. The boat in question was close to the shore, and the bodies, or at least portions of the bodies, were recovered with relative ease.”

  Rufus placed a hand on Wilson’s chest, halting them both. “Why do you emphasis that point? Portions. You seem convinced that the deceased were somehow mutilated in their death.”

  Wilson raised an eyebrow. “Not in their death; in their life. It was, in part, the cause of their death.”

  “Now you are being pointlessly contrary," said Rufus as he resumed his steps. "This group has enough of that with Byron. I would like to think better of you than that.”

  Wilson hastened after his fellow physician. “That is fair. Then let me say this. Whether the bodies were dismembered or mutilated I do not know. Nor am I certain of the cause. What I do know is this: whatever happened here was abnormal. Communities such as this are accustomed to the hazards of their trade. They bury, they mourn, they move on. They are hearty, and in many ways, hard. They need to be in order to live a life void of comforts. Whatever it was that happened here has set them on edge. It has rattled them because it is not normal. It bothers them, and it scares them.”

  Rufus sighed. “Perhaps you are correct, but it does not matter. We will get nothing of use from anyone, and without their assistance, we can’t possibly hope to achieve any degree of success in our venture.”

  “And that, my friend,” said Wilson pointedly, “is why you will fail. You approach this as a venture. You lack sincerity, and the people here know this. They can see it, they can smell it. It turns them away because they know that you do not care for their concerns.”

  “And you do?”

  “Of course I do. I may be intrigued by the unknown factors, but I am a physician first and a scholar second. I may not feel their pain, but I recognize it, and I wish to provide for them a balm. They are scared because of the unknown, because they do not understand what happened. If I can solve that mystery, then I can ease their suffering and help them to return to the normal life that they so desperately wish for.”

  Rufus shook his head. “You surprise me, Wilson. Yours are not known for their compassion. Pragmatism to a fault is more like it. How does compassion fit into that?”

  The look Wilson then gave his friend was one of both disdain and appraisal … with a hint of pity. “I should not surprise you. For the time that we have been in each other’s company, you should know me better than you do. I may use Niles as a test subject for cataloguing the effects of Cocaine, but I do not do so without consideration for his health. He is, after all, my patient, and I hold this relationship in high esteem. Furthermore, I am true to my oath and am always prepared to lend aid when and where I am able. Compassion and pragmatism are woven together at the core of what we do. I study the mind in order that I may treat the body.”

  His words were received by his colleague, who was, even then, considerin
g them. “Think on it when you can, dear chap; allow me to evidence that our efforts are not to be wasted.”

  With these words, the young physician began walking in the direction of the shore. Rufus followed, uncertain as to his companion’s intentions as they were now walking away from the remaining houses. It was but a short time, however, before he spied a young girl of approximately ten years of age. She was looking around the corner of the home away from which they had, moments before, stepped, but from which they had not yet departed.

  “Hello.” Wilson spoke to the girl with a soft a measured voice. “Do you live here?”

  She was guarded. Her eyes shifted from one side to the other, as though she feared getting caught with her hand in a meat pie. “What’s Christian about ya?”

  “My name is William, but I get Willy from my sister. She is a little older than you, but not by much, and—don’t tell her—but she is not quite as cute as you are.” He said this last bit with a playful wink, ignoring the pain that spiked through his heart at the mention of his own sister. The little girl blushed slightly as a grin began to show itself beneath her hair. “No, I doubt that very, I do.”

  “May I ask you for your name?” Wilson asked, past the tightening of his chest. He should have known better than to bring Emma into the conversation.

  “Shelby.”

  “Shelby, you say. Well that is a very nice name, Shelby. Do you know why we are here?”

  She did not answer immediately, but did so shortly, staring up at him as if trying to determine whether he was genuine or not. “You are here because o’ what happened to Liam.”