Matthew Corbett 03 - Mister Slaughter

Justices, in connection with murders possibly committed by one Tod Carter, barber at Hammer's Alley, on or about April 1686 through December 1688, the bones of eleven men and one child being found under the cellar floor by a recent tenant.' Greathouse aimed a cool gaze at Slaughter. 'A child?'

'I had to have a lather-boy, didn't I?'

'Said suspect,' Greathouse continued reading, 'also charged to stand in connection with the disappearances of Anne Yancey, Mary Clark, and Sarah Goldsmith and the concurrent robberies of their family estates, on or about August 1689 through March 1692, under the aliases of Count Edward Bowdewine, Lord John Finch and ' He hesitated. 'Earl Anthony Lovejoy?'

'I was so much younger then,' said Slaughter, with a slight shrug. 'I had the imagination of youth.'

'So you don't deny any of this?'

'I deny,' came the smooth answer, 'that I am a common criminal.'

'Signed by the Right Honorable Sir William Gore, Knight Lord Mayor of the City of London, witnessed by Sir Salathiel Lovel, Knight Recorder of Said City, and the Honorable John Drake, Crown's Constable.' Greathouse handed the parchment to Ramsendell, who took it as one might accept a dead snake, and then said to Slaughter, 'I think your past has caught up with you.'

'Alas, I'm in your hands. I do presume you'll feed me a good breakfast before we get started?'

'One thing,' Matthew said, and both doctors immediately gave him their attention. 'You said the Quakers found out Mr. Slaughter was wanted in London. How did that happen?'

'He was brought to us in August of last year, looking much as you see him now,' Ramsendell explained. 'A week or so later, one of their doctors left for a business trip to London and arrived in November, where he discovered people still talking about the bones that had been found at Hammer's Alley the month before.' Ramsendell handed the article of possession back to Greathouse and wiped his palms on his breeches. 'Some witnesses had come forth and given a description of Tod Carter that was published in a broadsheet and circulated through the streets. Someone else connected him to the alias of Lord John Finch, who wore-as it was called-a patchwork beard. This was evidently a continuing story in the Gazette at that time.'

'I think I do recall reading about it,' Matthew said. He would have gotten those copies of the Gazette from ship's passengers, which meant he'd been reading them at least three months after the fact.

'The doctor recognized Carter's description and approached the Crown's constable. But as I say, Slaughter was with us by then. He was um a little disruptive for the Quakers to handle.'

'And you're any better?' Greathouse scoffed. 'I would've taken a whip to him every damned day.'

'Look how they talk about you here,' said Slaughter, to no one in particular. 'As if you're part of the wallpaper.'

'Exactly why was he at the Quaker institution to begin with?' Matthew asked.

'He,' Slaughter spoke up, 'was there because he was arrested on the Philadelphia Pike for highway robbery. He determined that he was not suited for confinement in the Quakers' gloomy gaol, thus he-poor, misguided soul-should contrive to wear the costume of a lunatic and bark like a dog, which he began to do before that court of fools. Therefore, he was content to join the academy of the mad for how long was it? Two years, four months and twelve days, if his mathematic skills have not turned to pudding.'

'That's not quite all of it,' Hulzen said, through his pipesmoke. 'He tried to escape the Quaker institution four times, assaulted two other patients and nearly bit off a doctor's thumb.'

'He put his hand over my mouth. It was very rude.'

'Slaughter didn't attempt anything like that here?' Greathouse asked.

'No,' said Ramsendell. 'In fact, before anyone had learned about Tod Carter, he was on such good behavior that we gave him work privileges, which he unfortunately repaid by trying to strangle poor Mariah, back at the red barn.' There was a road leading to some outbuildings behind the hospital, as Matthew knew from his previous visits. 'But he was caught in time, and properly punished.'

Greathouse's mouth curved into a sneer. 'What did you do to him? Take away his scented soap?'

'No, we put him into solitary confinement until it was determined he could rejoin the others. He'd only been out a few days before you two saw his face at the window. By then we'd had a visit from the Quakers, who'd received a letter from their doctor in London addressed to me and explaining the situation. After that, he was kept apart.'

'He should've been torn apart,' was Greathouse's summary.

Matthew regarded Slaughter with a furrowed brow, as more questions were nettling him. 'Do you have a wife? Any family?'

'No to both.'

'Where were you living before you were arrested?'

'Here and there. Mostly there.'

'And you worked where?'

'The road, Mr. Corbett. My partner and I did quite well, living on our wits and the treasure of travelers. God rest William Rattison's soul.'

'His accomplice,' Hulzen said, 'was shot down during their last attempt at robbery. Evidently even the Quakers have their limit of patience, and they planted armed constables on one of the coaches between Philadelphia and New York.'

'Tell me,' Matthew said, again to Slaughter. 'Did you and Rattison kill anyone while you were living on your wits?'

'We did not. Oh, Ratsy and I bumped a head occasionally, when someone grew mouthy. Murder was not the intent; it was the money.'

Matthew rubbed his chin. Something still bothered him about all this. 'So you elected to enter a madhouse for the rest of your life as opposed to standing before a judge and receiving a sentence of oh a brand on the hand and three years, say? I assume that was because you decided a madhouse would be easier to escape from? And why are you now so eager to leave this place that you don't even bother to deny the charges? I mean, the Quaker doctor could be mistaken.'

Slaughter's smile emerged once more, and then slowly faded. The distant expression of his eyes never changed. 'The truth,' he said, 'is that I never lie to men who are not fools.'

'You mean you don't lie to men who can't be fooled,' said Greathouse.

'I mean what I said. I am going to be taken from this place, no matter what. Put on a ship and sent to England. Walked before the court, identified by witnesses, badgered to point to the graves of three very lovely but very stupid young ladies, prodded into Newgate, and laughed by a slobbering mob up the gallows steps. No matter what. Why should I be less than truthful, and sully my honor before such professionals as yourselves?'

'Or is it,' Matthew suggested, 'that you fully believe yourself capable of escaping from us on the road? Even from such professionals as ourselves?'

'It is a thought. But, dear sir, never blame the wind for wishing to blow.'

Greathouse returned the article of possession and their copy of the transfer document to the envelope. 'We'll take him now,' he said, rather grimly. 'There's a matter of money.'

'Oh, isn't there always,' was Slaughter's quick comment.

Ramsendell went to one of the desks, opened a drawer and brought out a little cloth bag. 'Two pounds, I believe. Count it, if you like.'

Matthew could tell Greathouse was sorely tempted to do so when the bag was put into his palm, but the great one's desire to make haste from the asylum clearly won out. 'Not necessary. Out,' he commanded the prisoner, and motioned toward the door.

When they were outside and walking to the wagon, Slaughter first, followed by Greathouse, then Matthew and the doctors, a cacophony of hooting and hollering came from the windows of the central building, where pallid faces pressed against the bars. Greathouse kept his eyes fixed on Slaughter's back. Suddenly, Jacob was walking right up beside Greathouse and the poor man said hopefully, 'Have you come to take me home?'