The Butcher (Cold Hollow Mysteries Book 5)

by Emilie J. Howard

  THE BUTCHER

  THE BUTCHER

  A Cold Hollow Mystery

  By

  Emilie J. Howard

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without the written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and readers’ reviews.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be resold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Your continued support is what makes it possible for authors to continue to provide you with the stories you enjoy. Many thanks.

  Copyright ©2017 by Emilie J. Howard

  Dedicated to Paul and Vivian Breault

  PROLOGUE

  Samuel Whittier stood over the butcher table of his family’s shop in New York. He stared at the naked, restrained, and gagged man on the table, particularly at the carving in his forehead. The words “Stay out of my town” were clearly defined. There was even an exclamation mark at the end of the sentence.

  After donning a white butcher’s apron and unrolling the nylon container holding all his knives, he began to work. He sliced into the man’s meaty thigh, hearing his muffled scream of agony. Edging the knife away from the bloody meat, he asked, “Are you changing your mind? Perhaps you’ll accompany me to Cold Hollow?”

  Ivan stood guard at the door to the room, his arms crossed before him. His boss was about to make a god-awful mess of the butcher room. He was going to comment about how Samuel was doing it all wrong but decided to keep his mouth shut.

  The man stopped screaming, shook his head, and tried to speak from beneath the gag. Samuel loosened it and asked, “Yes?”

  “I ain’t going back there! The place is messed up! Ten of us went up there, and only I came back! Look at my forehead again. They’ll do the same to you too or worse!”

  Samuel released an evil chuckle. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll try. Now do be a good boy and remain silent while I finish.” He pushed the tip of the blade deeper into the man’s thigh wound. Blood poured forth as he commented, “Your biggest mistake was leaving my sister, Patricia, alone in that town to die at their hands!”

  With the gag loose, the captive man screamed, “I didn’t know she was your sister! I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me anymore. I’ll do anything you want, just stop hurting me!”

  Samuel pushed the tip of his blade deeper into the man’s leg and asked, “Anything? You’ll do anything I want?”

  The man gritted his teeth as sweat poured down his face. “Yes. What do you want me to do?”

  “Tell me who put the scar on your forehead.”

  “It was the chief of police!”

  Samuel stood there contemplating the notion while wiggling the knife from side to side within the wound. “An actual police officer lowered himself to scar you? Were there witnesses to his actions?”

  The man on the table struggled to get out of his wrist restraints as he answered, “Two wise guys.”

  Samuel’s eyebrows rose. “You mean to tell me the Mafia found its way to the tiny little town of Cold Hollow?”

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “Well, this story’s intrigue just went up a notch. How many did you see?”

  Sweat beaded down the man’s face as he continued struggling. “Two. One looked like DeNiro, and the other was tall, skinny, and had a messed-up mouth like the Joker from the movies.”

  Samuel’s knowledge of the town was limited. He had done a cursory Internet search, but with the town being a government experiment, the information was limited. However, because his sister had lived there, he knew that it was a town for parolees to rehabilitate and was run by a mayor, with commissioners evaluating it periodically. The man he held captive had been helpful in finding two of his targets within the small town, but he was sure there were more. “Very well, then. Thank you for the information. Now if you’ll just lie back down while I refasten your restraints, we’ll move ahead.” Momentarily placing the blade down on the table, he pushed the young man’s forehead back down on the slab and tightened his wrist restraints.

  The man struggled and begged as Samuel tried to jam the gag into his mouth. “Wait! What else can I do for you so you’ll let me out of here?”

  Samuel Whittier stood there, blade in hand again, and replied, “Dear boy, look around you.” He waved the blade around the room. “It’s apparent no amount of begging, pleading, or struggling will get you out of the predicament you are currently in. You entered a nefarious lifestyle, and you didn’t think it had consequences? Tsk, tsk. You should have listened to your mother more often.”

  “My mother was an alcoholic!”

  Samuel placed his hands on his hips and frowned. “With a son like you, I imagine her options were limited.” With smooth movements, he forcefully inserted the gag back into the man’s mouth and resumed his butchering.

  Ivan stood watch, shaking his head at the disaster Samuel was creating. It wouldn’t be long before he hit an artery and a geyser of fresh blood would spew forth and ruin the otherwise pristine butcher room. When Ivan witnessed Samuel carve and pull the skin from the captive’s face, he cringed and turned away.

  CHAPTER 1

  Samuel Whittier sat in the back office of the butcher shop, reviewing the accounts ledgers. He had to hand it to Ivan: he couldn’t speak very good English or read, but the man had a talent for figures. Every dime was accounted for, each employee had been paid on a timely basis, and business was thriving.

  He was planning a trip to pick up Patricia’s remains. He had already notified the family half breed of her passing but doubted anything would come of it. His sibling had been shunned since birth. As far as Samuel was concerned, he had done his familial duty.

  He’d checked the weather forecast earlier in the day and found they needed a four-wheel drive vehicle to reach their destination. The area where Cold Hollow was located had recently been inundated with blizzard conditions. Driving from his home in Massachusetts to the shop had been exhausting enough, but he had rested for the entire day to reinvigorate himself. He called out, “Ivan!”

  Ivan appeared in the doorway of the office and stood with his arms by his sides. Samuel said, “Get Lucy out of the garage and warm her up.” Ivan snatched some keys from a hook inside the office and left the room. Samuel called him back, and he stood there, silent, again. “We’re taking a trip, so pack a few things.”

  Ivan nodded. “Da.” He left Samuel alone with his thoughts in the office as he went to retrieve Samuel’s beloved “Lucy” from the garage. Lucy was the outrageous black Hummer that Samuel had purchased years ago. He gave the piece of metal more attention than he or his family had ever given Ivan. She was always highly polished, maintained at regular intervals, and indeed a joy to drive. Ivan slid behind the wheel, put the key in the ignition, and let the engine roar to life. He pushed a button on the visor and watched the garage door lift.

  While the vehicle warmed up, Ivan went above the garage to his living quarters and packed a small suitcase and a large duffle bag for the trip. He had no idea where they were going. He did know crazy Patty had died, so he assumed it had something to do with her demise. Ivan’s job was keeping accounts at the butcher shop, as well as guarding it—not traveling. He frowned when he thought of his predicament. He had no idea what lay ahead. He understood En
glish but had trouble speaking it. Samuel’s father, Old Man Whittier, had eyed him with contempt daily but, wanting to take advantage of Ivan’s muscular strength, had taken care of him, fed him, and employed him. When Ivan was old enough, Old Man Whittier set him up in a studio apartment above the garage. Ivan was grateful and did as he was told, but each time he asked about school, Old Man Whittier would grumble, “It’s better to keep you dumb, Ivan.” Ivan was glad the day the old man croaked but soon found out Whittier’s offspring were no improvement.

  ***

  Chief Hanover returned to Cold Hollow, Vermont, after transporting two prisoners to the state penitentiary. He was relieved to get Harvey Winkle and Julio Rodriguez out of his town. Nothing good ever came from drug dealers. As it was, it took both prisoners two weeks longer than expected to recover from their injuries at the hospital. Whistling a happy tune, he walked through the doors of the police station, snatched his mail from the top of Officer Cutler’s desk, and made his way to his office.

  He noticed a manila envelope among the mail and stared at the handwriting on the front of it. There was no return address, but he thought he recognized the distinct handwriting used for the address to the police department. Taking a seat behind his desk, he dug in his drawer and pulled a pair of latex gloves from a box inside. He snapped them on and opened the envelope. He slid out something wrapped in what appeared to be butcher paper. Slowly cutting the ties, he unfolded the paper, revealing a large swath of dried skin with scars on it. Leaning closer, he read the words: Stay out of my town!

  He slammed back in his chair, his eyes bulging at what sat upon his desk. He growled, “The son of a bitch is on his way!” He swiftly repackaged the incriminating evidence, jammed it into the manila envelope, tore off his latex gloves, retrieved a clean pair, and left his office. He mumbled to Officer Cutler on his way out of the station, “I’ll be at the town hall.”

  ***

  Samuel Whittier drove the entire way to Cold Hollow; Ivan sat in the passenger’s seat, silent. Samuel said, “Ivan, we have to stop at the funeral parlor first. We have to pick up Patricia’s remains.”

  “Da.”

  Samuel sneered, “Is ‘da’ all you can say? Have you learned nothing in the years you’ve been with us?”

  “Nyet. Keep Ivan dumb.”

  Samuel laughed. “I love it when you quote my father!”

  Ivan frowned and stared out the side window. The snow mounds were growing larger the farther north they went. His frown turned into a smile. The land they were currently traveling through was beautiful. Lucy handled the rough terrain as she always did, like a professional. Samuel murmured to the vehicle during the entire trip. Ivan now knew why Samuel had never married. He was far too attached to inanimate objects to care about anyone of flesh and bone. Inanimate objects couldn’t speak their minds or argue with him; Samuel chose the easiest type of relationship in the universe. Having lived with the family for as long as he could remember, Ivan knew that Samuel was just as refined and polite as his sister had been. He was also just as crazy.

  ***

  The chief sat across from Myrna, tossed her a pair of latex gloves, and watched as she pulled them on her hands before opening the manila envelope. She slid out the item wrapped in butcher paper and unfolded it, curious as to its contents. When she saw the item, she leaned forward, read the words, and gasped. She glanced up at the chief and said, “You better explain this to me.”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “I just got back from hauling Rodriguez and Winkle to the state penitentiary when I received it in the mail.”

  “I already know, Chief, but tell me about what I’m staring at!”

  She watched his face crunch up in shame as he explained himself. “I was angry at what the two thugs did to Fran, so I carved up one of them and sent him packing back home. I thought it would send a message.”

  She stared at the dried-up, scarred forehead. “Well you certainly achieved your goal.”

  The chief pointed at the evidence. “It will incriminate me. I’ll lose my badge over it.”

  Myrna continued staring, never glancing up. Running her gloved fingers over the edges of the skin, she said, “You’re not thinking straight. It won’t incriminate you. It incriminates whoever sent it. You don’t carve skin off a living person’s face, do you? No. You wait until they’re dead.” She finally looked into the chief’s eyes. “This is proof that whoever sent this killed the man. Anything Whittier could claim against you would be considered hearsay on his part and implicate him in my kidnapping and in the drug trade.”

  The chief stared at her and saw something he hadn’t seen since he was hired. She had been so preoccupied with raising Liam, her wedding, the pregnancy, and then the kidnapping, she had lost her old spark, but now it was making a comeback. She was scheming again. He looked hopeful. “So you think this is just a warning that he’s on his way and is trying to spook us?”

  Myrna wore a sly grin. “Yes. When he shows up in town, send him my way. I’ve been out of the game too long.”

  “You’re not going to fire me?”

  Myrna broke out in soft laughter and shook her head. “No, I can’t be bothered breaking in a new chief.” She eyeballed him and murmured, “Besides I think you know more about me and Tom than you let on. You just decided to look the other way.”

  The chief replied, “I did for one reason.” He watched her eyebrows rise and continued, “I did it because you’re both good for this town. The residents respect both of you, and you manage to keep an otherwise messed-up place in order, whether it be by shady deals or straight-up law.”

  ***

  They crossed a covered bridge and saw the sign that read “Welcome to Cold Hollow.” Ivan couldn’t read it, but Samuel had read it aloud, so he knew where they were. As they traveled past farmland and orchards, Ivan’s smile grew wider. The entire town was enveloped within mountain ranges. Before hitting the busiest part of Main Street, Samuel spotted the sign for the funeral parlor and pulled into the plowed parking area. He and Ivan exited the vehicle and walked toward the establishment. Soft chimes rang as they opened the door and approached the reception desk.

  They were soon attended to by a soft-spoken man named Steve. Samuel fished around in his coat pocket, pulled an official document from it, and displayed it to the man. The funeral director read it and conveyed his condolences to Samuel. He then went into a back room and returned holding a sublime urn. Samuel bent down and ran his fingers over it. He admired the container holding the remains of his sister. “It’s beautiful. Just as beautiful as she had been.”

  Steve smiled. “Mr. Gillette thought the same thing when he chose it. I’m glad you like it.”

  Samuel abruptly stood straight and asked, “Who is Mr. Gillette, and why did he see to my sister’s remains?”

  Steve bowed slightly and stated, “Maurice Gillette was dating your sister when tragedy struck. He was heartsick over the loss and felt the least he could do was see her remains were set in something of the finest quality.”

  Samuel slid the urn to him and murmured, “Yes, I’m sure he did.”

  Steve noticed a slight snarl to his comment and glanced at Ivan as goose bumps ran up and down his arms. He pulled out a sturdy tote from beneath the counter, wrapped the urn, and extended it out to Samuel. When Samuel reached for his wallet, Steve held up a hand. “The account has been settled. Mr. Gillette saw to it.”

  Samuel shook Steve’s hand and replied, “I bid you good day, sir.”

  Steve merely bowed at both men in response. He found Samuel Whittier an oddity. His apparel was strange. He wore a black top hat and a black three-quarter wool overcoat, and he carried a walking cane. He wasn’t disabled, so Steve imagined it was just a fashion statement.

  When he heard the chimes softly ring again, indicating their departure, he ran for the phone and called Chief Hanover.

  CHAPTER 2

  Samuel Whittier entered the police station and was attended to by Officer Cutler
. He was then frisked and given a visitor’s badge. After his walking cane was confiscated, he took a seat and waited for the chief of police to be available to speak with him.

  Ted Cutler knocked on Chief Hanover’s office door and entered. He sat across from his desk and whispered, “Samuel Whittier is here to speak with you. I took a walking cane from him, and then I looked out the window and noticed his vehicle. He owns the biggest black Hummer I’ve ever seen.”

  Chief Hanover sighed, ran a hand down his face, and stared at Ted. “Did you frisk him for weapons?” Ted nodded, and the chief continued, “I may as well get this over with. Send him in.”

  Ted left the office, and the chief heard him address Samuel Whittier. When he entered the office, the chief had to keep a straight face and not laugh at the top hat the man wore. He was a good-looking, well-groomed, slender man, approximately six feet tall, and from what the chief could see, his hair was black with streaks of gray in it. His eyes were blue, as his sister’s had been. Chief Hanover gestured to the seat opposite his desk and watched as Samuel shut the office door and sat down after taking off his hat and placing it atop the desk. He removed his driving gloves, placed his hands atop his lap, and began the conversation. “I’m here to discuss the demise of my sister.”

  The chief dug in his top desk drawer and withdrew the fire chief’s official report and the death certificate. “These copies are for you. The reports explain everything.”

  Samuel harrumphed. “No, they don’t. Let me be clear, Chief…”

  “Hanover. The name is Chief Hanover.”

  Samuel’s eyes brightened, “Ah, yes. How lax of me. So, let me be clear, Chief Hanover. I am here to find out about my sister’s last days on this earth. I am aware of the town’s little secret, and I already know it’s filled with paroled inmates. How can you honestly tell me my sister didn’t die by nefarious means?”