Catching the Last Train Excerpt 2

I’m putting the second part of the story up. I don’t know how many people have heard the first part but I’m still putting this part up. Enjoy.

Somebody had positioned it where the neck was pressed against the wooden fence. The body was on its knees with the hands against the fence her palms open, which were red. Johann realized it was the body of Eloise Moore. Above the body, there was a symbol he had only seen in Chatham drawn in blood. The blood had started to run because of the rain hut the symbol was something he would remember for the rest of his life. The interlocking angles and circles of the symbol entranced Johann so he didn’t notice Gould and Wilson walking toward him.

 “I thought you killed him, Moreau,” Wilson said barely keeping the rage in his voice in control.

“You saw the body. He wasn’t moving after the fight we had,” Moreau replied with shock and anger.

“Gould, I’d like for you to work with me on this case,” Moreau said while looking away from the body.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Gould said while as he stood up from the mud.


Moreau opened the door to his apartment that was behind his office slowly. As he turned the lights on and stepped in, Gould peered inside. Books were piled everywhere, not large piles but just big enough to be in the way. The books were mostly on occult and religious criticism.

“Come back here in the morning,” Moreau said while putting his sports jacket on the coat rack.

“Any time that you want me to come by?”

“No, I’m sure that I’ll be awake whenever you get here.”

As Moreau finished saying that, Gould waved and he closed the door. Moreau made sure to lock the door tight. He got ready to go to sleep and hoped his nightmares wouldn’t be any worse.

However, as soon as he fell asleep his nightmares started.

 His usual nightmares featured the symbol on the fence and the other things from Chatham, but there was a new one tonight. He recognized the forest from his childhood. Moreau ran through the forest as if he was lost but he knew he was looking for his childhood dog. The dog was in the distance, and he started running toward it. As Moreau got to the dog something picked it up and snapped its back.  As the dog’s body fell in front of him, he woke up.

He was drenched in sweat. It was barely five in the morning, but he didn’t want to go back to sleep. So, he went in to his bathroom to take a look at himself. He moved his sweat-drenched hair out of his face, and found the dark circles under his eyes created a stark contrast against his pale skin; it made him look sickly. Also, he had a heavy five o’clock shadow, so he decided to shave that before he started his research.

After he finished shaving, Johann decided to make some coffee. As he turned on his kitchen light the mess that was his kitchen was illuminated. The left sink was full of dishes and the right sink was half full. There were dishes all over the counter as well. He started the coffeepot and looked at the clock on the wall; it was almost six.

Moreau went into his office and sat down behind the desk. He opened the bottom right drawer and pulled out a large case file. Moreau was hesitant to open it, but he knew the answers were there. The sound of the coffee brewing helped him not get lost in the details of the file.

He was still angry that it had taken him so long to break the case. There had been three murders before he had been called in. There had been two more after he was called in. Those two haunted him now.

 Now it was three, he reminded himself. He had another life on his conscience because he wasn’t able to outsmart a mad man. Moreau knew that there was no way the original killer had survived. The symbol had to be the key. The low grumble of the coffee pot finishing brewing knocked him out of his dark thoughts.

After some digging for a clean mug, he sat back down after putting a full cup of coffee on the far right corner of his desk, away from his files. He took a drink of his coffee and shuddered. He didn’t like the taste of black coffee, but drank the first few cups of the day black to help keep him alert.  Moreau heard a knock at the door, what he guessed was an hour or so later.

“Gould?” Moreau yelled.

“Yeah… is it okay for me to come in?”

Moreau walked over and unlocked the door.

“Yeah…come on in.”

Gould opened the door. He wore plain clothes because he was going to be working with Moreau. His large frame looked out of place in such a small alcove. His tightly curled black hair was wet.

“Is it still raining?” Moreau asked between drinks of coffee.

“Yeah, this is really weird. Care if I hang my coat up over here?” Gould asked while taking his heavy coat off.

“Yeah, go ahead, and if you’re cold you can build a fire,” Moreau said while pointing to the fireplace that the coat rack was beside.

“Yeah, I am pretty cold,” said Gould. He grabbed some of the wood on the other side of the fireplace.

“The matches are on the mantle.”


After Gould started the fire, he moved a chair in front of it and sat down.

“So, have any ideas where we should start?”

“Well, we should look into where Ms. Moore lived and anyone that knew her,” Moreau said as he stood up. “You want a cup?”

“I don’t like coffee,” Gould said while shaking his head, “The taste is too harsh for me.”


Gould stood across the desk staring at the board. He hadn’t gotten a good look at what was there before the pictures. He thought he had seen Latin, but he wasn’t sure and didn’t want to prod Moreau. Moreau had seemed on edge ever since he had seen the body. If what was on the corkboard was connected to what happened in Chatham, Gould could understand him not wanting to talk about it.

“How are you able to sleep after seeing stuff like this?” Gould asked somberly.

“I don’t, or if I sleep, I don’t sleep well at all,” Moreau replied with a hushed voice not taking his eyes off his board.

“When do you want to head to where Ms. Moore lived?” Gould asked.

“Ummm, we can right now,” Moreau said.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, let’s just go ahead and get going,” said Moreau as he started to move toward the door.


Gould pulled into the open space in front of the apartment building. Both Gould and Moreau winced at the sound of the brakes when they stopped. Then, they both started to get out of the car at the same time.

“You should probably have them look at the brakes when you take the car back to the station,” said Moreau while closing the door.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I had to take this unmarked car. There were others there,” said Gould in an annoyed voice while slamming his door.

They both walked up the stairs on the stoop of the apartment building. Gould opened the door so Moreau could go in first. Moreau noticed the mailboxes which had apartment A-2 marked as the super. Moreau knocked on apartment A-2, and a woman with a deep scowl opened the door.

“Hi, I was wondering if we could talk to you about your tenant named Eloise Moore,” Moreau said.

“What about her? What’d she do?” asked the woman loudly.

“Well, she was killed last night; I was wondering if we could take a look in her apartment,” replied Gould showing his badge.

 “Oh,” said the woman in a much softer voice. “I have the extra key over on the wall. I’ll hand it to you.”

A few seconds later she handed Moreau a key with a keychain that read 5-C.

“We’ll have this back to you when we’re finished.”

He motioned for Gould to follow him to the stairwell. They both got to the door and saw nothing wrong with it. Moreau pushed the key in, and the lock caught just a small bit, but the door opened fine.

The apartment was in almost immaculate condition. Moreau saw nothing that would make them think they should be there for a murder investigation. He looked at the table behind the couch and noticed a picture of Eloise with a man. They were both smiling and seemed to be happy. Beside that picture there was another one; this one was of an elderly couple with a small girl.

“Gould, have you noticed anything?” Moreau asked.

“Other than the cleanliness of the apartment?” Gould replied.

“Yes, something other than the obvious.”

“No, I’ve not seen anything yet.”

“Look at these,” Moreau said while lifting the two pictures into Gould’s view.

“I see one with her and a guy. The other one I see an old couple.”

“The old couple are the people who raised her, more than likely her grandparents. The guy is either her boyfriend or her friend.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I don’t see any pictures of the same little girl with middle-aged people. I could be wrong, but I don’t think I am.”

Moreau put the pictures back on the table and looked for other clues. He motioned for Gould to start looking as well. Gould found a paper on the coffee table from a law firm. It looked to be a letter about being hired there. It was from the law firm of Smith, Gurtz, and Greenblatt. Gould handed it to Moreau.

“We should go by there after we get done here,” said Gould.

“That’s a good idea. Are you finished here?” Moreau asked.

“Yeah, we can head out.”

They both leave the apartment without making a mess of it. Moreau knocked on the door and gave the key back to the woman. They then got back into the car and went on their way.


The car made the same noise that made them wince; it didn’t make that noise any other time but when they made a full stop. They had not been as lucky when coming to the law firm as they had been at the apartment building. There were no empty spaces in front, forcing them to park on the side of the building. The two went inside and were surprised at the throngs of people in the lobby. Moreau went towards the front desk and motioned for Gould to follow him.

“Hello, we need to know who we need to talk to about Eloise Moore,” Moreau said while leaning on the counter.

“Give me a minute,” said the secretary with an annoyed tone.

“We need it now,” said Gould while showing his badge to her.

“Speak to Herman Gurtz on the fourth floor,” said the secretary with her eyes wide.

She pointed towards the elevators to her right and left. It took surprisingly little time for the elevator to come down. The duo went in, Gould hit the button, and the door closed without anyone coming in. The door dinged open as they reached the fourth floor, and they exited the elevator and noticed immediately that it was far quieter here than in the lobby. They wandered around the floor, looking for Herman Gurtz’s office. They found the office with a desk to the left of the door. The desk had a name plate that read Eloise Moore on it. Gould stayed at the desk while Moreau knocked on the door.

“Make an appointment with my secretary, if she is even coming in today!” yelled the man on the other side of the door.

“I’m here to talk to you about your secretary,” yelled Moreau back to the man.

There was a bit of silence broken by Moreau’s strain at opening the heavy door. Moreau cleared his throat to get Gould’s attention then they both went into the office. On the far side of the room, there was a large mahogany desk. On the other side sat a slender man with no hair on the top of his head. He had a pencil-thin mustache and wore a pristine navy blue suit. It made Moreau’s raggedy suit look even worse in comparison.

“You said you were here to talk about my secretary,” said the man in a half-quizzically.

“Yes, we are,” Moreau said while sitting on the opposite side of the desk, “When did you see Ms. Moore last?”

“She was at work yesterday. I noticed she was late today; is there something you need to tell me?”

“She was murdered last night. Would you happen to know why someone would want to kill her?”

The reaction that Gurtz had was odd to Moreau. He couldn’t tell if Gurtz was upset because he liked Eloise or if he was upset that he would have to look for another secretary.

“No, everyone at the office that interacted with her liked her. You might need to tell her friend Martin; he works on this floor as well.”

“What’s Martin’s last name?”

“I think its Baker.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to tell us?”

“I stayed out of her personal life. If that’s what you’re asking.”

Moreau places a card in front of Gurtz on the desk. “If you think of anything that might be helpful call the number on that card or come by my office. The address is on there too.”

Moreau and Gould turned around and exited the office quickly.

“Did he seem shady to you?” Gould asked after closing the door.

“I’m not sure if he had anything to do with what happened but he doesn’t seem to care at all,” Moreau replied.

After five minutes of asking around the office they found Martin. From the back he looked like he was an average desk jockey. When he swiveled around in his chair Moreau noticed he was the guy from the picture with Eloise.

“Are you Martin Baker?” Moreau asks.

“Umm…yes, is everything alright?” Martin asked in a shaky voice.

“We have some questions about Eloise Moore. When was the last time you saw her?” Moreau asked.

“I saw her just last night. I offered to take her home after dinner, but she said no and took the train instead. Did something happen to her? Is that why she’s not here yet?” Martin replied franticly.

Gould puts a hand on Martin’s right shoulder. As this happened Martin broke down into tears. This struck Moreau as something a friend wouldn’t do but a boyfriend would. He knelt down in front of Martin.

“How long had you and Eloise been seeing each other?” Moreau asked.

“Six months, we had to keep it quiet because it was against the rules here. I didn’t want her to get fired.” Martin said between sobs.

“Do you know of anyone that would want to hurt her? Anyone at all?” Gould asked.

“Maybe her ex-boyfriend. He used to beat her when they were together,” Martin said while continuing to sob.

“Can you tell us his name?” Moreau asked.

“His name is Hunter Grayson. He’s a boxer.” Martin said.

“Do you know where he lives or trains?” Gould asked while writing.

“I think Eloise said it was somewhere near her apartment,” Martin said while turning away from the pair.

“Thank you for your time. We’ll do our best to solve this case quickly,” Moreau said.

As Moreau and Gould walked to the elevator they could still hear Martin sobbing.

“How do you think we’ll be able to get in touch with her ex-boyfriend?” Gould asked while he hit the call button for the elevator.

“I don’t know, but that seems brutal even for an abusive ex. There might be more to this than we even know.” Moreau said as they entered the elevator.


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