Blood Brook - Robert F. Clifton (always you kirsty moseley .txt) 📗

Chapter One Greta Shoemaker

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BLOOD BROOK

by

Robert F. Clifton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2014 by Robert F. Clifton

All rights reserved. No part of this book may

be reproduced or transmitted in any form or

by any means without written permission

from the author.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dedicated To Marie Clifton

My Favorite Daughter In Law

 

 

 

 

 

 

The reader is advised that this is a work of fiction. Any similarity of names of persons, places or events mentioned in this book is purely coincidental. R.F. Clifton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Introduction

 

Police Captain Robert Wallace requests sixty vacation days in order to fly to the west coast of Australia. He wants to visit his long time friend, Doctor Manfred Edwards (Azreal, Garwood Village). His request is denied when he is assigned to the County Prosecutor's Office to investigate and solve the murders of two, middle age women in a place called, Blood Brook.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Table of Contents

 

Chapter One.....Greta Shoemaker

Chapter Two.....Dorothy Timberlake

Chapter Three..Comparisons

Chapter Four....A Matter Of Law

Chapter Five.....Public Access

Chapter Six.......Personal Information

Chapter Seven...Probable Cause

Chapter Eight...Down Under

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

Greta Shoemaker

 

On Saturday, June 10, 1978, Greta Shoemaker was shelling Lima beans as she sat at her kitchen table. She was satisfied with the vegetables she had bought at the produce stand located on route forty.

When she dropped the last of the beans into a cullender she got up and carried it to the kitchen sink. There she rinsed the beans in fresh, cold, well water. Then, the front doorbell rang. “Shoot!”she said aloud. After wiping her wet hands on her apron she left the kitchen and went to the door. When she opened it a man was standing there holding a large box wrapped in brown paper. “I don't know what this is, but I know I didn't order anything”, she said.

“Are you Greta Shoemaker?”, asked the man.

“Yes, I am”.

“All I know lady is that's the name on the package. Look for yourself”.

“Greta leaned forward and saw, Greta Shoemaker #7Weymouth Road, Blood Brook, N.J. “I see my name and address, but I'm telling you whatever it is I didn't order”.

“Lady, all I do is deliver packages. I don't know who orders or who sends them. Please take the package”.

“Oh. Very well”. Greta took the package and with it both of her hands she turned in order to place it some place in the living room. When she turned a blow to her head knocked her glasses off. She staggered, then was struck again. A small moan escaped from her throat and the third impact to her skull killed her.

The next day was a Sunday and like every Sunday Homer Shoemaker left his home in Philadelphia and drove down the Atlantic City Expressway to visit his mother. When he reached the clover leaf he left the highway then took the gravel road that led through the New Jersey Pine Lands. Miles back in those pines was the hamlet of Blood Brook. Homer left Blood Brook at age seventeen. He enlisted in the Navy and upon his discharge he took a job in the Philadelphia Naval Yard as a welder. His mother had refused to leave her home in the pines and as a result her living alone worried her son so he checked on her every weekend.

He pulled his old Chevrolet into the driveway of his mother's house and got out of the car. After walking to the front door he turned the handle and pushed it in order to open it. The door opened about two inches. It seemed that something was blocking it. “Mom?”, he called. There was no answer. “Mom”, he called again. He still heard no reply. Using muscular strength he pushed the door moving whatever it was that was blocking it. With the door now open about ten inches Homer could look inside. When he did he looked down and saw the lifeless body of his mother. "Mom! Mom!", he shouted.

At about one o'clock that afternoon Robert Wallace answered the ringing telephone mounted on his kitchen wall. “Hello?”, he said.

“Robert? This is Emily. I'm afraid I won't be able to join you for dinner. I just received word from the prosecutors office that there has been a murder in a place called, Blood Brook”.

“That's way out in the sticks. Why you? The county has a coroner”.

“That's Doctor Shell. It seems that he's out of town. Evidently I'm the only medical examiner available. They need me to pronounce the victim dead so they can move the body”.

“How long is that going to take?”, asked Wallace.

“I have no idea”.

“Why don't we just move dinner time back to say, eight this evening?”

“You don't mind?”

“Of course not. Besides the steaks have to thaw”.

“Well, since you don't mind I hope to see you then”.

At seven pm. Doctor Emily Wescoat sat at the kitchen table watching Wallace slicing tomato's. “So, how did it go?”, he asked.

“The real problem was finding the house. I never knew anyone lived in those woods”, said Emily.

“Ah, the Jersey pines. There's probably a thousand stories about the pines and those that lived in them, including the Jersey Devil”, said Wallace.

“Really?”

“Yep. Originally it's thought that highway men camped in there.

They would rob the stage coaches that ran from Cape May to Philadelphia. No one would take the chance of going in there in order to capture them”.

“How do people live back in there?”

“Originally they hunted, trapped and where they could find a place with fertile soil, farm. Today, they still do that only now I suspect that they make a living differently”.

“What do you mean?”

“Today, they cut and sell firewood. There are one or two hog farms. The hog farmers come into Nautilus Beach in order to haul away garbage from restaurants and produce stores. They have contracts that gives them year long employment, but at the same time feed for their pigs”.

“Clever”.

“Oh yeah, I suspect that there are illegal stills operating deep in the woods and of course marijuana growing there besides”.

“You mentioned trapping. What do they trap?”

“Muskrat. This is June. If you go back in there in the winter you'll see the children wearing muskrat coats”.

“Really?”

“Yep”.

“How did the place get to be known as Blood Brook?”

“I keep forgetting that you're not from around here. Well, let me start at the beginning and that would be the Battle of Chestnut Neck. Chestnut Neck was a village on what is now known as the Mullica River. Those that lived there were privateers. They would sail out, board and capture ships going up and down the coast of New Jersey. When the Revolution began they began capturing British ships loaded with supplies for English troops stationed in Philadelphia. Finally, the British decided to remove the constant threat. On October 6, 1778 British ships loaded with three hundred regular troops sailed up the river and attacked. They burnt homes and warehouses, recaptured supplies and destroyed what they couldn't carry away. At the same time they burnt the salt mill and home of Eli Mathis.

The story goes that back in the pine barrens New Jersey patriots had constructed a smelter and forge. There they took bog iron from the waters and turned it into such things as pots and pans and cannon balls. Fifty British troops with knowledge of the location of the forge attacked the men working there. It is said that fifteen workers were bayoneted and their bodies thrown into the running stream. The stream then was known as Blackburn Creek. It got that name because of a forest fire. Since then it's been known as Blood Brook”.

“How interesting”.

“So, who got killed and how?”, asked Wallace.

“A woman named Greta Shoemaker. She died from blows to the head causing a fractured her skull. A shattered bone from her skull caused trauma to the brain it's known as subdural hematoma which killed her. Whatever the killer used it left crescent shaped wounds in the head”.

“Was a weapon found at the scene?”

“I don't know. When I got there I was met by two prosecutor investigators and a uniformed deputy sheriff. They might know”.

“He might have used a baseball bat. The end of the bat could cause such a wound. How many wounds did you find?”

“Three, and how do you know that the killer is a male?”

“The type of weapon used. Female killers choice of weapons are handguns, knives and poison. Usually, when a woman strikes the head of their victim its often the end of a high heel shoe or an iron skillet. Wait a minute. Wasn't the State police there?”

“None that I could see”.

“That's unusual. Blood Brook is in the patrol area of the State Police. They should have been there”.

“As I said. I didn't see any. They might have arrived after I left”.

“Possible. Now my lady, the salad is prepared. What say you of your choice of dressing. I have French and Italian”.

“Italian”.

“An excellent choice and as I recall you prefer your steak well done”.

“Absolutely”.

“No problem. Let me run something by you. I have sixty vacation days coming to me. I'm thinking of flying to Australia to visit my best friend. How would you like to go with me?”

“I'd love to Robert but I can't be away that long from the hospital. Besides I don't have anywhere near that much vacation time. When do you plan on leaving?”

“It's winter there now. September should be the beginning of Spring there. I figure mid-September”.

“It sounds wonderful. Have you been there before?”

“No. Well, the steaks are done, the baked potatoes are just right and the salad is nice and crisp. If you're ready we can eat. I have a nice bottle of Zinfandel. Shall I pour you a glass?”

“Please”.

Wallace sat down at the table. “I can't understand why Gallagher took it upon himself to have his office investigate this homicide”, he said.

“There must be a reason”, Emily replied.

“I do remember that sometime ago Gallagher lost a case in court because a young trooper lost part of essential evidence the day of the trial. He's been pissed off at the State police ever since”.

“That might explain his actions”, said Emily.

“Whatever. How's your steak?”

“Fine”.

The next day, Monday, June 12, 1978 James Gallagher, County Prosecutor sat behind his desk looking first at the written reports submitted by his investigators and then at the two men themselves. Taking off his glasses and with an angry red face he said, “What I have here from both of you is a pile of shit! No where does it mention a search for fingerprints. There's no mention of interviewing possible witnesses.

No search of the area for a murder weapon. In short both of you have already screwed up this case. Right now any law student in college could win in court challenging you two and your idiotic investigation. Why in the hell didn't you have someone dust for prints?”

“It was Sunday. No PD in the area had a technician on duty. Besides if there are any prints left there yesterday they're still there today”, said Harvey Carson.

“Is that right? Let me remind you that neither one of you took the time to have the crime scene protected. From what I can determine is the fact that after the Medical Examiner left and the body was removed you two idiots just locked the front door and walked away. I'm sure I'll be questioned about that brilliant action by the press. Anyone, even the killer could have gone back inside and removed evidence”.

“What would you like us to do now, Mr. Gallagher”, asked Alan Hudson.

“If I had a choice it would be for both of you to resign. However, right now I'm stuck with both of you. Go back to Blood Brook and do what you should have done yesterday. Now, get the hell out of my sight!”

At about the same time that James Gallagher was chastising his investigators, Captain Robert Wallace stood in front of Jerry Monahan, Chief of the Nautilus Beach Police Department. “What's on your mind?”, asked Monahan.

“A vacation and soon”, Wallace replied.

“How soon