The Pocket Watch

“Don’t ask Jack because I don’t have an answer for you. All I know is the dead guy looks like he came from the old wild west. Everything he is wearing is from about 1875 and his pocket watch stopped at the stroke of 12. I don’t know if its high noon or midnight. But I can guess he was shot about then, at least it seems that way.

Like I said, it’s a guess but this is the third body that’s showed up on this day in this place on the fourth of March. The thing is Jack, they were all shot with the same gun and they all had this watch on them. And here’s the kicker Jack. After I put this watch into evidence it’s going to disappear.”

“Inspector. Do you have any idea how insane this sounds, not to mention how crazy it makes you look. I suppose next you will be telling me it’s the same body every time.”

“Absolutely not. It’s been a different one each time and Jack I looked them all up. They were different people but knew each other. They were members of a gang back in 1875.”

“All murdered on the same day I guess?! Eh Inspector.”

“Nope. It appears to me like someone hunted them down one by one and as far as I can tell there’ll be seven more before it’s over.”

“But they only show up once a year in the same place, with the same watch and murdered with the same gun.”

“Do you know why someone would do that Inspector?”

“I do if the newspaper headline I read was accurate. “Gang Kills Silvie Porter. She was the daughter of a Minister back then. The gang didn’t just kill her Jack.”

“So you’re telling me this Minister fella, Reverend Porter took vengeance out the hands of the lord, hunted down ten men and killed them all. And those men are showing up here in our little town a hundred and forty five years later all shot with the same gun and all carrying the same pocket watch.”

“I know Jack. It sounds crazy. I sound crazy except the coroner did some blood work and these guys aren’t from this time.”

“Ok. Hey officer Wellans. Get Doc Bradlyn here with all his reports on the Blood Alley Murders.”

“Ok Lieutenant.”

“So what do you know about the good Reverend after he killed everyone in the gang?”

“Same newspaper said there was a trial and the Reverend was found not guilty. Seems like everyone was beholden to him for cleaning up the garbage on their streets. Our streets near a century and a half ago.”

“How about the watch. Do you think it might have survived?”

“I have two detectives tracking down the watch and any descendants of the Reverend. He had a wife but it didn’t mention any other children. The Reverend moved away after the incident.”

Doc Bradlyn called back twenty minutes later. Lieutenant Jack Griss listened for a minute then hung up. Jack said, “Those files are all missing.”

“Seems to me Jack, like someone in this time doesn’t want the truth coming out, about what’s going on.”

I went home. The two detectives I had working the case came up dry. There was nothing more I could do but wait until March 4th, 2021. The Pandemic was on a war path against humanity. Everybody was walking around wearing masks or protesting against wearing masks. Another war was going on down south. A political war. It had seventeen months before I retired. I didn’t want to end a pretty good career leaving behind a cold case. It was all going to hell.

In April I was going to have the three bodies exhumed but when I went to the gave yard something occurred to me.

I went to the oldest part of the grave yard and started looking at the dates of the head stones. Particularly for any males who died on March fourth, 1875. I also went looking for Silvie Porter.

Its funny how things come to you when your mind is busy with something else. They name Porter kept ricocheting around in my head.

It’s a small town now. It was bigger in 1875. A lot bigger. It got a lot smaller when the mines ran out just before the first world war and smaller still when half of what remained of the young men in town never came home from the trenches.

But the name Porter survived. As I poked around the graveyard I tried to recall any Porters still living in town. The thought got sidetracked when I found a name. Peter Lompan died March 4th from a gunshot wound. After that it didn’t take long to track down the other nine. They were all in the same area.

I reached in my pocket.

***

I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was a blur. Then the blur manifested into Mandy Christyns round plump face. She was Doc Bradlyn’s nurse. I was stretched out on an examination table at his clinic, the same table he conducted autopsies.

I didn’t feel to good, partly because of the bang I took to the back of my head and partly because of where I was. I certainly hoped the Doc wasn’t preparing to do an autopsy. I wasn’t dead, though it felt like someone tried to get me dead.

The nurse said, “Welcome back.”

I said back, “How long Have I been out.?”

“Seven hours, give or take a few minutes. That is Penny Blyrs found you seven hours ago when she did her rounds cleaning up the graveyard.”

I tried to sit up. I got half way there and swooned. I laid back then tried again, slower. It worked. I looked at the nurse and said, “Someone doesn’t want me investigating this mystery.”

“What in the world would you be doing investigating anything? This is the closest I have seen you to sober in ten years.”

Mandy. I am a cop. What the hell are you talking about?”

“A cop.” Mandy said with a huge chortle she had trouble controlling. When she did she said, “Buddy. You’re the town drunk and apparently a delusional drunk at that.”

“But I was investigating some really weird murders. Just ask Lieutenant Griss.”

“There is no Lieutenant Gris in this dinky little town. We don’t even have a police station let alone a police force.”

My brain melted. I stood up and caught a look at myself in a full length mirror. I was dressed in rags and looked like I just came out of a forever bender.

I asked, “How long have I been like this?”

The nurse shook her head. “Are you kidding?”

“No. I am not kidding.”

“Ok. You’ve been like this ever since you wandered into town three years ago. You weren’t quite as bad but you got worse fast. You live in a shack down by the river. You get an old age pension.”

“Old age pension.” I shouted. I am only fifty seven. I had seventeen months before I retired from the force. I was working on a murder case. I went to the grave yard to try and figure something out. I got a whack in the back of the head. I woke up here.” I raved on.

Doc Bradlyn came in. “You better settle down or I’ll committ you, which is what I should do anyway.”

I got to my feet. I reached in my pocket. Everything went black. I woke up in the graveyard. Confused, dressed up like a cop, all in gray, gun and badge in place and no sore head.

I staggered out of the grave yard headed back to the station but instead I went to see Doc Bradlyn.

When I got there he was out but Nurse Mandy Christyns was. She wasn’t plump and round faced. She was thin and a year or two off senior citizenship, which was about right.

“Inspector. You look a little pale.”

“It’s weird.”

“Tell me about it. Didn’t you here. They found some bones out behind the church. It looks like we might have found that Reverend Porter who was supposed to have moved away with his wife.”

“When was this?”

“Yesterday. Some workmen were digging a hole where the church plans to build a daycare centre.”

“Oh. I heard about the daycare. Didn’t know they had started.”

That’s why Doc isn’t here. He took the bones into the city to get them analyzed. He’ll be back this evening.”

“I don’t suppose a pocket watch was found.”

“Not that I heard.

***

Eleven months later March 4th, 2021.

The bones didn’t belong to the reverend. I don’t know the science behind it but apparently they belonged to some fellow who passed through town in the thirties. He was probably a hobo and his head had been bashed in. I didn’t jump on the chance to connect it with my brown out in the graveyard. If I had I might have made another connection, however.

I went to the alleyway where the bodies kept appearing at the stroke of twelve. Nothing happened.

I went back at 11:30 pm, settled myself on a wooden box ten feet from where the bodies appeared.

At exactly midnight something happen. It wasn’t melodramatic or even dramatic. A man stooped over a body with a gun in his hand. He was wearing a black robe with a white collar.

I walked toward him. He looked up. I said, “Reverend Porter.”

The man nodded.

 “Why are you here?” I asked.

The Reverend looked at his pocket watch. “I have to kill them all.” He said anxiously. “Their trial is coming up and if they get a chance to talk everyone will find out it wasn’t them who killed Silvie.”

“Who did?”

“My wife. She killed our daughter. I don’t think she meant too. She wanted to beat her for…well she was fornicating with one of the boys in the gang and she was with child. My wife couldn’t bare the shame, but we were going to send her away.”

I didn’t get a chance to explain that it was 2021, not 1875. I suppose it really didn’t matter. The reverend disappeared but the body remained. The watch was sitting on the dead man’s chest. I figured the Reverend dropped it before he went back to his own time.

I picked up the watch and put it in my pocket.

The Minister never came back again and the pocket watch lives on the mantle over the fire place in my house. I have retired.