Zeb Hanks Mystery Box Set 1

by Mark Reps

  Kate listened carefully to Jake's story. His soft but emphatic manner and the tone of his voice struck a chord within the far recesses of her mind. Jake's voice became that of her father. She began to drift, landing in the nether world between present and past. Kate's hypnotic state of mind was suddenly snapped back to reality as Zeb slammed on the brakes.

  "Christ almighty," cried Jake. "That was too damn close for comfort."

  From the corner of her eye Kate caught a glimpse of a mother coyote and her three pups scampering off into the desert underbrush. Zeb slowly pulled back onto the road.

  "I didn't see it coming. I wasn't watching the road. I was listening to Jake's story," said Zeb. "Sorry, I should know to be looking for animals at this time of day. Go on now, Jake, finish your story."

  "To make a long story short, the Greeks firmly believed all intricacies of human existence could be foretold by looking to the sky. Life, birth, death, comedy, tragedy, war, peace and all their subtleties could be found in the stars. Seeing the star, Thanatos, above Mount Graham last night gave me a chill that literally made the hair on my arms stand on end. When I get that feeling, I know what I'm feeling is the truth."

  "Not really solid deductive reasoning," said Kate.

  "You're right, hardly any kind of reasoning at all," said the former sheriff. "It has a category all its own. We learn from experience what to pay attention to and what to cast aside. That star told me something. I don't know for certain exactly what. I can't place my finger on it just yet, but I do know it concerns Bede."

  "Speaking of Bede," said Kate. "How do you think he is going to react when he sees us this early in the morning?"

  "I'm hoping he's still asleep," replied Zeb. "I want to leave early, so I get up there before daybreak. If he is our man, I'd just as soon catch him off guard."

  "Do you think he'll be armed?"

  "We checked for guns when I was up there yesterday. There was no sign of any weapons."

  "He could have one in his truck," said Kate.

  "I checked out his truck too. No gun rack, no shells, nothing to indicate he's armed or even has a gun," replied Zeb. "But, just as a precautionary measure, I'll pull off the road a quarter mile before his campsite. We will approach him on foot."

  The rising sun peeked over the rims of the mountaintop to the east. Thin rays of light darted through the pine trees, bouncing white-gold reflections off the wave tips on the slowly rippling surface of Riggs Lake. Zeb turned off the headlights and pulled the car to the side of the road. Kate, Zeb and Jake got out of the car, closing the doors noiselessly. In the near distance, at the edge of the campground, Bede's truck was backed into his campsite. As they cautiously approached the truck, a single dull snapping sound filtered through the air. Kate glanced toward Zeb who was loosening the cover strap on his sidearm.

  "What are you doing?" whispered Kate.

  The sheriff signaled silence with a finger to his lips and pointed to Kate's holster. She loosened it.

  "His truck is backed up to his campsite. The back end is loaded with his gear," said Zeb. "His tent was over there in the clearing. It's gone. He's packed to leave. He might have seen us last night and certainly would have become suspicious if he saw us rummaging through his things. Kate, you circle around about thirty feet in front of the truck and stay low as you approach. Jake you take the passenger's side. I've got the driver's side."

  Kate crouched low to the ground, stopping suddenly when a dry twig snapped beneath her boot. Zeb made eye contact and hand signaled his partners to move closer to the truck. Bede was nowhere in sight. Zeb shook his head. He motioned for the lawmen to hide behind some low bushes between the truck and the road.

  "He's not in the immediate vicinity. It's damn unlikely he's out counting flowers this early. Where the hell is he?"

  Kate felt her heart pounding hard.

  "The holy site," said Jake. "My guess is he's up there saying goodbye."

  The new light of day streamed in as Zeb, Kate and Jake crept silently through the pines. Near the opening of the sacred place where the heavens meet the sky, crisp golden rays of sunlight coalesced, making the mountaintop a celestial display.

  "What is this place?" whispered Kate.

  Zeb responded by pointing to a ridge top where the golden light of morning glistened. Kate squinted as reflected light scattered brilliantly in all directions. Blocking out the sunlight with her hand, Kate realized what she was witnessing. It was Bede, dressed in priest's clothing, chasuble, alb and hassock, kneeling in front of a makeshift altar holding a chalice above his head. The sunlight striking the goblet sent diamond bits of refracted light into the morning sky, creating a blinding radiance.

  If Bede had seen them, he gave no indication. Inching closer, the lawmen crouched to the ground as they came within earshot of Bede.

  "Oh, Holy Father, all praise and glory unto you. For you are wise and kind, I sing to your name because you are sweet. Whatsoever you have ordained me to do in your name, I pray that I, your servant on earth, have accomplished all you have beseeched of me."

  The lawmen crept ever closer, eyeing Bede as he took the contents of two brown vials sitting on the right-hand side of the altar and poured them into the chalice. Swirling the chalice clockwise then counterclockwise with scientific precision, he created a liquid solution.

  "It is of the true body and blood of the Lord Jesus Christ that I now partake."

  Bede lifted a large white sacramental host in the air with the words.

  "This is the body of our Lord."

  Lifting the chalice, now full of liquid, he continued.

  "And this is the blood of Jesus Christ."

  Bede placed the communion wafer in his mouth and reached for the goblet.

  "Stop!" yelled Sheriff Hanks. "Put it down."

  Bolting up from his crouched position, Sheriff Hanks raced toward the would-be priest.

  "No! Don't! Stop! Now!"

  Unruffled by the sheriff's shouts, Bede, chalice in hand, turned from the altar and faced the oncoming deputy. From inside his vestments he calmly withdrew a gun and pointed the barrel directly at Zeb's heart.

  "Bless you my son, but I have heard the call of the Lord. He wishes to see me now."

  Zeb froze. Jake and Kate slowly crept their fingers toward their holstered weapons. Bede lifted the chalice to his mouth, tipped his head back and drank the contents hungrily. Turning back to the altar, he set the small handgun at the foot of the Crucifix and crumbled to the ground, clutching his stomach.

  "He's poisoned himself," shouted Sheriff Hanks. "Deputy, we need to get him to a hospital. Right now!"

  "Don't bother." Bede's voice was laden with finality. "It is too late. I've taken enough poison to kill ten men. I'll be dead in fifteen minutes. You can't possibly get me out of here and down the mountain in the time I have left on earth. There is nothing you can do to save me. I have chosen to die here, in this spot."

  Sheriff Hanks reached down and placed a finger on the inside of Bede's wrist. His pulse raced thin and fast. The threadbare beats came with such rapidity he could barely discern one from the next. His widely dilated pupils stared back at him. Bede's face carried the look of an innocent child.

  "Don't worry, Sheriff Hanks. I have commended myself into the hands of the Lord. I am not suffering. I am becoming free."

  "We know what you've done," said Sheriff Hanks. "Why did you kill?"

  "A dying man should never be glib, but there are many reasons why I did what I did."

  Bede's voice gurgled like water being sucked down a partially clogged drain.

  "A good starting point in your final investigation might be why did I try and poison you, Jake and Delbert?"

  "Why indeed?" grizzled Jake angrily.

  "Be careful where you place your hatred. It could kill you."

  Bede's words, a strange blend of advice and admonition, fell not lightly on Jake's ears.

  "Your good deputy sheriff unfortunately came across my elixirs when he retri
eved a beer for himself from the cooler in my tent. Honestly, it was spur of the moment thinking. Once your deputy had seen my poison elixirs, I felt I had no choice but to get rid of all of you. It was simple logic to kill the witnesses. If your deputy hadn't interfered with the Lord's plans, I would never have acted. But I still don't understand why the lobelia didn't poison either of you."

  "We didn't eat your damn parsnips," growled Jake.

  "Aha, not vegetable eaters. Big men like you two eat only meat. I should have assumed that," said Bede.

  "Why did you use water hemlock to try and poison us?" asked Zeb.

  "Opportunity, Sheriff. Opportunity came knocking. I had just dug the water hemlock that very morning. I accidentally came across a batch of it halfway up the mountain. Dumb luck, I guess. The root looks like parsnips and smells like carrots. I figured the two of you wouldn't know water hemlock from parsnips if you ate them. Your deputy must have a cast iron stomach. A mere few ounces of water hemlock are enough to kill a man. He ate twice that."

  "That is where you're wrong, Bede. He swallowed half a bite and spit the rest out. He got sick, but he's going to be just fine," said the sheriff.

  "Are you sure there is nothing we can do to stop you from dying?" asked Kate. "Isn't there an antidote for what you've taken? You must have thought of that."

  Kate took a handkerchief from her pocket and dried the corners of Bede's mouth.

  "Thank you, young woman. You are my Mary Magdalene. As to my excessive salivation, it is an unfortunate side effect of my poison."

  "Indian tobacco?"

  "Very good, Deputy. Yet another name for lobelia. There are many. Might I beg to ask how you came to that conclusion? An amateur botanist perhaps?"

  "We know that's how you killed John Farrell. We have the lab reports."

  "I suppose since my time on earth is very limited now, I should confess to his murder if for no other reason than to lighten your case load. How long has it been since I ingested the lobelia?"

  "Four, maybe five minutes."

  "I have no regrets about what I have done. It was preordained, out of my hands, the will of God."

  Kate wiped blood and frothy saliva from Bede's mouth as he pressed his hands on his spasming stomach.

  "The poison raises all hell with the gastrointestinal tract but don't worry. I'll try not to regurgitate on you."

  Bede's clarity seemed almost inhuman.

  "Why did you kill Farrell?" asked Zeb. "He did nothing to you."

  "Allow me to tell you how, and then I'll tell you why. After all, I have only a few tales left to tell. Be so kind as to allow me to choose the order. A dying man should be granted his final wishes."

  "Then tell us," said Zeb.

  Bede turned momentarily to Kate. "Thank you, my dear. You know something? You are so kind. You remind me of my mother. Are you by any chance of the Catholic faith?"

  The murderer's compliment and question sent an uneasy chill through Kate.

  "I went to Catholic school."

  "Good, good. Once again the Lord has blessed me."

  "You were going to tell us how you killed Farrell?" said Sheriff Hanks.

  "Yes. Pardon me, but a dying man drifts in a sea of past events. Sort of instant replay of his life," said Bede.

  "How did you kill him?" demanded Jake.

  "It was so simple. He was a man of routine and efficiency. I understand that kind of thinking because I too am a man of precision and competence. He ate lunch, as did his secretary, every day at the same time. Noon. I only had to watch him twice, and ask once, to determine he would be alone in his office between twelve and one. He created the opportunity for me, really, he did. His downfall was so simple. It was the fancy French coffee he loved so much. Espresso is so strong he didn't even taste the poison when he drank it. He lost consciousness in five minutes. Five minutes. How long has it been since I took my hemlock?"

  "Eight minutes."

  "I knew I was stronger than that fool. I took three times as much as I gave him. He was weak. I don't hold that against him. He died valiantly. I admire that. He fought hard. At least his body did. I cannot speak for his soul. But I get ahead of myself. After he passed out, I had to return to my truck to retrieve the rope. I parked it in back by the garbage cans. I suppose you already know that. It hardly matters. I had already made a noose. I am a man who likes to be prepared. I was a Boy Scout. Were you a Boy Scout, Sheriff?"

  "Yes, Dr. Bede. I was," replied Zeb.

  "Excellent. Boy Scouts usually grow up to be good citizens. My mind is wandering again, isn't it? I'm sorry. I'm trying not to give in to the effects of the poison."

  Bede's eyes rolled up under his eyelids. His breathing became shallow, lessening.

  "Is he dead?" asked Jake.

  "I don't..."

  "No, I am not dead. Just standing near Jacob's ladder. Now, where was I?"

  "Farrell's death, the French coffee, it was his downfall," said Zeb.

  "Yes, yes. I needed to make Farrell's death look like a suicide. I thought I had succeeded. What gave me away?"

  "Science, Dr. Bede. Science gave you away."

  "Perfect. Like Christ, a Judas of my own betrayed me. Delectable irony, wouldn't you say?"

  "Ironic, yes," muttered Jake.

  "Go on," prompted Zeb.

  "At first I put the rope around his neck as he lay slumped over his desk in the chair. Then I rolled him back a few feet and tried to throw the other end of the rope up over the beam. It wasn't long enough. It didn't reach. I stupidly tried three or four tosses before I realized I would have to throw it over the crossbeam before I put it around his neck. It's funny but I remember two thoughts I had then. The first had me wondering how I could have made such an obvious mistake with the rope. How unscientific of me. I concluded murder is not really a logical process and therefore absolved myself immediately. The second was an old adage I had always heard. 'Give a man enough rope, and he will hang himself.' At the time I was almost unable to carry on because I found it so hilarious, the old adage I mean."

  Zeb, Kate and Jake watched and listened as Bede laughed sardonically, reliving the moment. His craziness blended all too well with the effects of the water hemlock.

  "Finally, I took the noose off his neck and threw it over the beam. That worked much better as it should have. I slipped the rope over his neck. He had a large Adam's apple you know. It stuck way out. Did you ever notice that about him?"

  "No," said Kate.

  "Yes," said Jake and Zeb simultaneously.

  "I put the noose around his neck and began hoisting him with all my strength. I cut my hands. Look."

  Bede held his rope-burned hands out for them to see.

  "My hands felt like they were leaking blood. The Stigmata came to my mind. One prays for small miracles at times like that. I had hoped it was a direct blessing from the Lord for doing his work, but on the other hand I did not want to leave behind bloodstains. It would make my duty to God too public."

  Bede paused and lifted his hands into his own line of vision.

  "No, it was not Stigmata," sighed Bede. "More to the point my hands were not bleeding, and John Farrell was a slightly larger man than I, so there was another problem to solve. I had to go back out to my truck and get a pair of gloves to keep the rope from slipping through my hands. The gloves worked quite well. I was able to hoist him high enough into the air, so he dangled well above the floor. I stood back and looked at him. I thought he was dead. But he started to twitch. He jerked back and forth. It seemed like he was trying to speak. I stepped nearer to have a closer look. The rope was stuck below his abnormally huge Adam's apple. The poor man was choking. I couldn't live with that. He should have died without pain. That was the idea. I do not think of myself as a brutal man. I climbed on the chair and tried to slip the rope higher up on his neck. It was troublesome and difficult. Believe me, it was an ordeal. But somehow, I managed. Still he didn't die. He began squirming, kicking, twisting. He even tried to reach up toward
the rope, but, in his state, his arms were too weak to reach his neck. The poison should have killed him by then. I reasoned an unintended consequence of hanging was the stimulation of the nervous system. It brought him back to life. I had to put an end to it for his sake. So, I grabbed on to his ankles and pulled down hard. I swung back and forth a few times. It was playfully grim. Then his neck snapped like a dry tree branch. The squirming and twitching finally stopped. I then left immediately."

  Kate glanced at her watch. Ten minutes gone. If Bede were right, he had five minutes left to live.

  "Why? Why did you kill him?"

  "I had to. He was conspiring."

  "Conspiring with whom?"

  "He was buying land for AIMGO, the American and International Mount Graham Organization."

  Shivering and sweating, the dying man paused and cleared his throat.

  "I'm getting cold. Do you have something you could warm me with?"

  Zeb took off his jacket and placed it over the trembling Bede. Kate wiped away black and green sputum from his ashen cheeks.

  "Thank you both. To comfort the afflicted is an edict of the Lord. You are serving Him well."

  "The conspiracy, Dr. Bede? You were talking about a conspiracy."

  "The University, the Institute, the governments, the Vatican, Father McNamara, they were all working with the heretics in the Order of St. Barnabus."

  "Father McNamara?"

  "Yes, he had to be done away with as all Barnabites should be. The heretics of that Order shunned me repeatedly, you know."

  "You killed Father McNamara?" asked Sheriff Hanks.

  "Yes."

  "You poisoned him too?"

  "Yes, of course. I had to."

  "Why?"

  "Because he's a Barnabite and all Barnabites are heretics. They ruined my life and vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord, and I, Dr. Venerable Bede, am the handmaiden of the Lord!"

  Blood trickled from Bede's mouth as his words became an amalgam of saliva and sputum.