Blood Brook by Robert F. Clifton (classic books for 12 year olds txt) 📕

“And where may I ask did you come up with this information?”, asked Gallagher.

“Probably from the same law book you were reading to me. Now, here's what we can do. Notice that I use the word we. I say we with all intentions of you and I working together to try to solve these two homicides. However, should you now or in the future decide that you don't want to work, make that co-operate with me, then I suggest we part ways. I go back to my department and you do what ever you want to do in relation to the Shoemaker and Timberlake women. It's up to you. If you want a solution to these cases then get me the information I need from the court”.

After a long, silent pause Gallagher said, “What you want will take some time. Be patient”.

Unfortunately Mr. Gallagher, patience is not one of my virtues. Have a nice day”.

After hanging up the receiver Wallace looked up to see Tom Mckenna coming through the office door. He had a large grin on his face.

“What are you so happy about?”, the Captain asked.

“I got an answer on the tire tread impression”, said Tom.

“Let me hear it. I need any good news I can get for the moment. It is good news isn't it?”

“I think so. When I took the photographs of the tire tread marks to the auto dealers and auto-parts stores, one guy suggested that I send copies to the tire manufacturers. I did and on department stationery told them what I was looking for. Right here is the answer”.

“Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?”

“Captain, that tire tread was positively identified by the Firestone Tire Company in Akron, Ohio as one of theirs. It was manufactured last year, 1977. Here's the important part. Most of them were sold to the Ford Motor Company where they were placed on the new, 1977, Ford, Bronco”.

“Interesting, at least it's a new lead. However, Ford might have built several thousand Bronco's. Good luck finding the right one”.

“There might be thousands of Bronco's out there. The question is, how many Ford Bronco's are registered in Atlantic or Cape May County?”, offered McKenna.

“I don't know, but you're about to find out. Start checking with motor vehicle registration”.

“Thanks a lot”.

“You're welcome”.

Shortly after Mckenna left, Maria Donahue entered the Captain's Office. “I have the overtime reports for August and September if you would like to see them”, she said.

“Give it to me gently. How bad is it?”, he asked.

“For you, not too bad. For Mr. Gallagher it will be a little upsetting”.

“Well, Mr. Gallagher will have to grin and bare it. This is what he wanted. Anyway, are you learning anything worthwhile?”

“Yes sir. As you know this is my first homicide investigation. I'm not use to blood, dead bodies and violence. I always knew it was out there, but in a different world that I was use to”.

“Maria, I've been doing this for a lot of years. You never get use to it. You just do your job. Hopefully you find out who or what was responsible and then you go on to the next one”.

Captain Wallace was interrupted when Sergeant Stiles entered the office.

“Do you want something, Frank?”, asked Wallace.

“No sir. I was just sitting at my desk and running things through my mind. It came to me that there have been no other killings after the month of July'.

“And?”

“I don't think this guy is a serial killer. Instead, I believe he's finished killing. Of course there has to be a reason for the murders, but I think there is some kind of connection between him and the victims”.

“I agree. So, we keep digging. Hopefully down the line we can make that connection. Anything else?

“Not at the moment. Like you, I can't figure out what the heck the murder weapon can be.”

“Well, you know from experience that sooner or later a break in the case usually happens. In this case we just have to wait and see”.

That evening after dinner Wallace dialed Mary Wagner's telephone number.

“Hello”?

“Hi, listen I don't want to be a pain in the ass, but I was wondering if you came up with anything about Blood Brook?”, he replied.

“Nothing concrete. I found a small article about a chicken farmer named Emanuel Weiss who was stabbed to death with a pitchfork. It seems the victim was a Jewish refugee who had been imprisoned at Bergan-Belsen concentration camp. It appears to be the first report of the murder to be printed. Hopefully, there is more. I'm still looking, that's why I haven't called you. Knowing that you would want all the information”.

“I see. Do you have a date with the article?”

“ November 13, 1963”.

“Does it mention Blood Brook?”

“No, only that the farm was located near Tabernacle”.

“That's pretty close”.

“Really, I wouldn't know”.

“Alright, thanks. I appreciate it”.

“You're welcome. How are you doing with planning your trip to see Manny and Sharon?”

“My plans are on hold. The Chief and the prosecutor have me wrapped up until I either break the case or take the blame for not being able to solve it”.

“I don't recall you ever taking the blame for anything”

“Sure I have”.

“Like what?”

“Our divorce”.

“Really, you're willing to accept the blame for ending our marriage?”

“Yep”.

“Then tell me Robert. Do you regret it?”

“Good by Mary. I'll be in touch”.

“The next day Captain Wallace made his way through tall weeds and bramble bushes as he approached the old, dilapidated remains of the chicken coops that once belonged to Emanuel Weiss. The walls of the coops had been built using cinder block. They still stood, only the tar paper covered roof caved in now and the wire had deteriorated. He had been able to find the chicken farm and its owner by checking county records. After that he followed Burnt House Road to a place called, Shamong. It was there on the edge of Wharton State Forest that Weiss had built his farm.

Once inside the largest coop Wallace stood removing burrs from his clothing. He then looked around taking note of the interior. The question he had in his mind was whether or not Emanuel Weiss was killed in his house or in one of the coops. He doubted that the murder had occurred in the house owned by Weiss. Mary had said that the news article said that Weiss had been stabbed to death with a pitchfork. In all probability the murder happened either in one of the coops or just outside of them. Naturally, like all homicides the questions were who and why? He already knew the when? It had happened on November 13, 1963.

His concentration was interrupted when a voice behind him said, “Mind telling me just who in hell you are and what you're doing on my property?”

Wallace turned abruptly and saw a tall, thin, elderly man standing just outside of the chicken coops. He had white hair and a short beard to match. Dressed in blue overalls, a red and white checkered shirt and high top black shoes his deep blue eyes seemed to reveal aggravation in his demeanor .

“As a matter of fact, I don't mind at all. “I am Captain Robert Wallace of the Nautilus Beach Police Department. Currently I'm assigned to the Atlantic County Prosecutors Office. I'm investigating two murders that happened over in Blood Brook”.

“That only answers one of my questions. Why are you on my property?”

“Looking for information and answers”.

“Got a warrant?”

“No”.

“Seems to me that you got a lot of sauce just walkin up onto my property and nose around without my permission”.

“I apologize. When I checked the county records this property was recorded as belonging to Emanuel Weiss”.

“Well it don't now. It belong to me”.

“I see, and you are?”

“None of your damn business”.

“You mean you won't tell me your name?”

“That's right. I talk to you and answer some of your dumb questions next thing I know my ass is in court testifying. You know my name, you send me a summons. Tell you right now, don't know nothing about them murders over in Blood Brook. Further more if I did I wouldn't say”.

“Well, whoever you are you might be obstructing justice”.

“That may be. I might be old. Even uneducated some might say. But I know this. You're standing on my property without a search warrant telling me that you're working for the prosecutor of Atlantic County. That right?'

“Yes”.

“Only problem young fella, this here where you're standing is in Burlington County. Know what that means? It means you got little or no jurisdiction.”

“I understand, but I'm wondering if you could tell me if you knew who killed Emanuel Weiss”?

“Well, I'll be a son of a bitch if that don't beat all. You don't either listen well or you don't give an ounce of owl shit to what I just told you. Now, once and for all, get the hell off of my property”.

Wallace moved slowly out of the chicken coops. Once outside he looked for a better way to walk rather then move through the thickets again.

“Don't be taking your time. Go out the same way you come in. And, don't be comin back this way again”, said the old man.

“I'll tell you this. If I do, I'll have that warrant you're so concerned about”, Wallace replied.

Leaving Shamong Wallace decided that since he was in the area he would visit both crime scenes in Blood Brook. The first stop he made was at the Shoemaker residence. After parking the car he began slowly walking down the side of the house staying on the lawn that needed cutting now.

As he walked he made a mental note of what he was seeing and at that point he wasn't seeing anything new. When he reached the backyard he noticed the vegetable garden now in need of weeding. The remains of dried, rotten tomatoes lay on the ground. If there was anything worth saving it had to be root vegetables, carrots, maybe potatoes. He then observed the back porch, a porch weathered and in need of a coat of paint. Stacked just outside the back door was a wooden box filled with glass mason jars of various sizes. Evidently Greta Shoemaker liked to can the produce she bought and grew. On the other side of the porch stood a tall, propane gas tank. Although most of the homes in Blood Brook where heated by electricity which was used as well as a cooking source. Some women preferred cooking with gas. Mrs. Shoemaker was one. Wallace walked up onto the porch then stood looking at the propane set up. He was curious since he grew up living in apartments and condominiums and was use to gas supplied by the South Jersey Gas Company. He noticed the thin tubing that went from the propane tank into and through a small hole drilled in the outside wall of the kitchen. The hole had then been caulked neatly to prevent moisture and insects from entering the interior. Stepping off of the porch he then made his way down the other side of the house. As he walked to his automobile he visually examined each side window.

Arriving at the Timberlake place he did the same thing. He walked the same way, down on side of the house then into the backyard. The first thing he noticed was the large, propane tank. With a tank that size he believed that Dorothy Timberlake also used gas for cooking. What bothered him was the fact that early in his investigation he had failed to notice the tank. If he had, he didn't remember it. Still, he examined the set up. It appeared that the tube was installed in the same manner as the Shoemaker place, he thought to himself.

Back in his office he sat at his desk thinking. “What can I do next? Right now I'm at a stand still. Gallagher is dragging his feet on the court information I