The Condemned Don’t Pay Well Chapter 3

Ray Irish Mystery Case File 3

They gathered around another ancient tree. Just like Crawford told them, there was a new piece of wood nailed to it. The broker stood the closest to the tree, looking at the plaque with wide eyes.

“Anderson, have you seen this before?”

Anderson stopped at Ray’s question, then moved closer. The legend was like the one for the old man on the other tree. However, the name of a different victim showed in the beam of light.  

 STEPHEN DODSON HUNG HERE 1948

 “What is this madness?” Anderson gasped, then turned to Irish. “We’ve got to get back to the house. I couldn’t let anything happen to Dodson.”

“Hold up,” Irish told them. “When was the last time you walked this path?”

“Ah…it’s been,” the old man looked around for help, running his hand through hair.

“Two…no, yesterday, I think.” He looked at Crawford for confirmation.

The broker shrugged, glancing over at Ray.

“I’ve not been out here for days. Are you sure you’re holding up alright?”

“Of course not,” Anderson shouted. “This is getting to me.”

He paused at the strange rustling sound that erupted above them. As Anderson pointed up the light beam, they heard a grunt followed by a thud, immediately bringing a snap like the breaking of a limb.

Irish pulled his gun, looking up at the jittery beam of light that followed the noise. Anderson’s flashlight kept stabbing the darkness among the heavy foliage and broken twigs that rained down upon them.

“No, no…” Anderson’s voice broke when the light centered on a man’s body, dangling from the end of a rope. It slowly spun around, but they couldn’t see the face.

“Crap!” Ray hurried to the massive trunk, looking for the other end of the rope.

“Christ, shine the light on the rope and help me find the end,” he yelled while pocketing his gun.

A second later, the shamus worked his way up the trunk, using the plaque as a handle to lift himself.

“There it is,” Crawford announced as he stood next to the old man, helping him steady the flashlight.

Ray followed to where the broker pointed when he finally saw the rope tied off at the base of a large limb just above him. He awkwardly scrambled to another limb, hoping the branch would hold him. After the shamus pulled out his pocketknife, he sawed at the thin cord. The rope finally snapped, sending the body to the ground with a sickening thud. Irish looked down to see the two men reluctantly moving toward the lump at the foot of the tree.

“It’s Dodson,” Anderson backed away after seeing the man’s face.

 While Irish cut the man down not long after the drop, he found Anderson correct when he got back on the ground. Dodson’s eyes were closed while his head angled down and forward from the rope knot when it snapped his neck.

“That’s an execution,” Ray said bitterly.

“They hung him from that tree, as the sign said he would be. And I’m next. I’m next, I tell you.”

Anderson’s anguish at his predicament brought Crawford close to Irish.

‘‘1 think the old man is right, Irish. This smacks of something from hell. What’ll we do?”

Irish took the flashlight from Anderson, who barely noticed as he stared at his dead friend on the ground. Flashing the light upward, Ray studied the branches.

“Don’t let him out of our sight,” the shamus told Crawford. “One of us must be at his side every instant.”

He scowled while he looked over the limbs, bothered by a crisscross of broken branches. It looked like a rudimentary nest.

“How was Dodson killed?” He wondered aloud.

“There’s nobody up there now and unless we’ve got a damn big monkey around, I don’t see how anybody could jump from one tree to the next to escape. Obvious choice is suicide. But that’s pretty thin given the warnings on the trees.”

“I don’t know the answer to that one,” Crawford grunted, “but I’ll swear there was no corpse hanging up there until after we heard the noise above us. Why don’t you take the cook and Anderson off this place? I say we make ‘em go now. Otherwise, who knows what’ll happen?”

“You might be right,” Irish agreed quietly as he looked at the old man.

Anderson had kneeled by Dodson’s side, his face showing pale and distraught in the white light of the flashlight.

“I wonder why he insists on living in a place like this,” Ray whispered. “You told me he sees no one. It’s almost as though he’s hiding.”

He raised his voice for Anderson to hear.

“Let’s go back to the house now. We’ll leave the body for the police.”

He turned to Crawford.

“And remember—never let him out of your sight,” Irish warned.

They reached the dark house and immediately hunted for Ainsworth, the cook. They found the man sitting in a chair. His slight form visibly reacted when they entered the kitchen, and he placed his hand on a large knife until he saw Anderson.

The old man gathered up his strength as they came back to the house. He went to the cook, telling him about Dodson. The cook’s pasty face screwed up in horror and he shook his head in disbelief.

“Why would someone hurt him?” The man asked.

“Why do you think someone hurt him?” Ray interrupted. “Your boss said we found him hanging. It might be suicide.”

Ainsworth gave Irish a glare.

“Only a fool would think Stephen would do such a thing. He enjoyed it here, told me so many times. Plus, he remained devoted to Mr. Anderson, despite…”

The man apologized to his boss.

“I’m sorry, I’ve said too much.”

Anderson patted him on the shoulder.

“It’s alright, Henry. He doesn’t understand yet.”

The old man turned back to Ray.

“What’s next, detective? Still don’t believe me?”

Irish shook his head.

“I believe you have a problem, but it’s not what you believe. I want to see that book you discovered again?”

“Aren’t we going to get the police? I can go into town.” Crawford volunteered again.

“No, if Mr. Anderson has such a threat over him, I need your help.” Irish turned to the old man. “You would prefer that Crawford stay with you, correct?”

Anderson nodded and stepped close to his broker.

“Stewart, I know I threatened you earlier. I apologize for that. But you’ve seen this from the start. I’d like you to stay with me.”

Crawford glanced at Ray, who watched the interaction closely.

“Well, since you put it like that, I can’t leave you on your own.” The man gave a half-hearted smile, then walked over to the cook.

“How about some sandwiches or something? All this running around got me hungry.”

~~~

While Irish spent the next half an hour studying the ancient volume in the library, Anderson and Crawford went to another part of the house. As Ray went through the book, he carefully held it up to the desk lamp, trying to get an idea of the pages inside. Since the book showed the publishing date of 1761, it surprised him to see the paper used. While the paper looked aged, the shamus remembered reading about how less durable than parchment it was. Suspicion crossed his mind, and he went looking for Crawford.

He found the broker sitting alone in the kitchen. He was eating a sandwich the cook prepared for him.

“I’m going outside for a bit. Where’s Anderson?”

“Something got into the old fool. He insisted I remain here while he hurried upstairs. I tried to follow him, but he refused my help. Said what he had to do was important. The good news is he might leave this place tonight.”

Ray glanced up at the ceiling, then nodded.

“Well, that’s interesting. If anything happens, start yelling and I’ll come running.”

Irish took the flashlight from his pocket and headed back to the place where they left Dodson. Without the others watching him, he made a careful examination of the corpse. The first thing that struck him was the state of the dead man’s fingernails. Nearly torn off, there were also small slivers of bark embedded in the tips of his fingers. Ray looked up at the area, then hauled himself up the tree. It took a while, but he finally reached the limb where the rope hooked over at one point.

A close inspection of the bark showed the place where the dead man clawed at the tree to save himself from that lethal drop.

Doubtful, it’s suicide. He’s grabbing the limb to save himself.

He observed that the side branches had several half-broken limbs placed at odd angles over them. When he moved to another position, Ray spotted the same nest-like area noticed from below. It appeared a considerable weight lay on top of the area for a time. But the area remained too unstable to remain there for long.

Dodson lay on these branches first before falling.

Still, the idea left Irish with more questions. First, how could the killer have dragged Dodson up here in the first place? The man would put up a struggle. On top of that fact, how could someone push him off without being seen?

With a shrug, the shamus carefully descended back to the ground, where he inspected the sign again. While creepy, the sign held no more clues for him.

From there, Irish worked his way back to Mendez’s body. He made sure to go by the other trees with the wooden signs. He grasped one and worked it loose from the trunk. His eyes narrowed slightly when he saw the nails.