By Lincoln Reed
“Vampires, Marshal. Was a vampire that did it,” said the stout hotel manager.
Roland Chadwick, Deputy US Marshal, removed his fingers from the bite mark against Judge Wilkens’s neck. “Should send for a doctor.”
The manager leaned over the lawman’s shoulder. “Ain’t one in town, just the barber. He’s only good with stitches and such. What good would he do?”
Chadwick remained kneeling by the bed, studying the judge’s sunken face and the circular bruise against his forehead. Chadwick’s visit to this mining town wasn’t meant to involve a fresh murder. “Hard pressed to believe it’s a vampire.”
“Nachtnebel’s the fiend. Ever since he got here, miners been dying. Past few months, some fellas stayed at my hotel, see, having a good time, spending their gold dust. Last couple of claims were big. They came into town to celebrate and register and…” His eyes lowered. “Turned up like the judge here.”
“Nachten…?”
“Nachtnebel. Goes by Abel. We call him Devil Nachtnebel. Got a ring to it.”
Chadwick scratched his unkempt beard. “Evidence?”
The manager pointed to the judge’s stiff corpse.
Chadwick’s eyes locked with the host’s. “What happened here stays between us. Don’t need people in a panic, or the real culprit getting wind of my pursuit.”
“Got leads, do you?” the manager pressed. “What’s your plan?”
Chadwick glanced out the window at the barbershop across the street. “Get me a shave.”
The marshal hung his Stetson on a peg next to the barbershop door. The proprietor guided him to a lone chair and wrapped a sheet over the lawman’s chest. “What needs doing?”
“Shave.” Chadwick tucked the sheet into his collar. “Mister…”
“Burnside.” The barber smiled. “Like the general.”
Chadwick assessed the slender man’s fluffy whiskers and estimated he was telling the truth. “Hoping you can help me figure something, you being the town’s physician.”
Burnside smoothed shaving cream across Chadwick’s beard and sharpened his razor. “Only when I have to be.”
“Those dead miners. You treated them?”
With tender precision, Burnside’s right hand dragged the blade across Chadwick’s throat. “So, you’ve heard the rumors. Lot of folks are suspicious about Nachtnebel when he’s in town. Can’t say I blame them. Don’t get too many Germans out here. Makes you wonder, don’t it?”
In the mirror across from the chair, Chadwick noticed the barber following his gaze toward the shotgun hanging on the opposite wall. The barber’s left hand quaked. Chadwick glanced at a nearby table containing various combs, creams, medicinal bottles, and a jar of leeches.
“During the war, Sawbones used cups for bloodletting,” the marshal said. “You’re old fashioned.”
The barber’s razor twitched, drawing a sliver of blood. “We make do.”
“Yankee or Johnny Reb?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, I can’t finish if you keep jawing.”
“Your left hand. I’ve seen that condition.”
The barber paused his razor. “Was a Union man.”
Satisfied for the moment, Chadwick allowed the barber to resume his work. With the shave completed, Burnside wiped the marshal’s face clean, and Chadwick studied his complexion in the mirror. “Those dead miners, the ones in town to make their claims, they all have bite marks on their necks?”
“Afraid so.” Burnside steadied his left hand in his pocket. “Word has it Nachtnebel wanted their claims. Would have hanged him long ago, but we’re a civilized town. Matter of fact, that’s what Judge Wilkens is here to decide—Nachtnebel’s fate.”
Chadwick noted the barber’s use of the present tense regarding the judge. “And if he doesn’t?”
The barber smirked and made a flapping motion with his right hand. “That German better fly away.”
Chadwick removed the sheet and eased himself from the chair. He paid the barber, lifted his hat from the peg, and locked the front door.
Burnside frowned. “Pardon?”
Chadwick spread his coat and rested his hands on his hips, revealing the marshal’s badge pinned to his vest. “In your medical opinion, how long does it take to drain a man until he’s dead?”
Burnside shrugged. “How’d I know? Ask Nachtnebel. I’m no vampire.”
Chadwick nodded and motioned toward the jar of leeches on the table. “Say someone visited those miners at night, held them at gunpoint, and used those parasites. How long would a leech wound stay open afterward? Long enough to bleed out?”
The barber’s eyes pleaded ignorance. “An oddly specific scenario, Marshal.”
Chadwick tapped the Navy Colt revolver holstered at his hip. “Judge Wilkens’s corpse. His forehead had a circular bruise, same size as the end of a Navy Colt’s barrel, like the ones we used in the war. I’m guessing someone pressed a gun to his skull pretty hard so the judge wouldn’t call for help. The way the judge was stretched out, the killer had his left hand holding the gun, right hand on the leeches. I’ve seen bloodsucker bites before. Looked like the judge’s neck.”
Burnside stared at Chadwick, lips twitching. He lunged for the shotgun on the wall, but Chadwick drew his revolver faster. The barber froze, slowly turning with hands raised. “That certain, are you?”
Chadwick kept the Colt steady.
Burnside’s voice cracked. “First thing miners do after registering claims? Visit me. Get a clean shave, a sharp haircut. All the while bragging how rich they are. Truth is, Marshal, I got tired of it. And with that foreigner Nachtnebel in town, small-minded folks were primed to believe anything.”
“So, you killed those men… and the judge?”
“Wilkens dies, people blame Nachtnebel.”
“Leaving you free to drain abandoned claims—”
“You were in the war. You should know. Life’s short. It’s cruel. I ain’t going to spend the rest of it trimming hair.”
“Why not try your luck like everyone else? Why kill men who’re as desperate as you?”
“Why go through all that work, Marshal, when I know where the easy scores are?”
Chadwick removed a pair of handcuffs from his coat. “Spoken like a true vampire.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
interesting premise, strong dialog. thought provoking, burnside must have been a master breeder of leeches, to be able to have enough to drain just one miner.
fun read!!
Thanks for reading, SC Steamer! Glad you enjoyed the story!
Excellent!
Thanks for reading, Pamela!
Love that last line! Vampires come in all types, not just bloodsuckers.
Thanks for reading, Arlan!
I knew there was something shady with that barber….
I liked the small-town setting of this story, it made it really fun and intriguing!
Thanks for reading, Allie!