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“Chasing tumble weeds.” That was the phrase Officer William Preston, Billy to his co-workers, used to describe working the overnight shift in Cape May during the late fall and winter months. Although it still was technically the fall, without the sun and the whipping winds from all sides of the ocean and adjacent canal, the cold nights already felt close enough to winter. Sitting in his squad car just after two on this late cold October night, the temperature outside was already below freezing. Gusts of wind blew against the windows shaking his patrol vehicle just a tad.
Billy could see his breath hanging in the cold air outside the car. But, inside the marked police vehicle with the engine running and the heat on, Billy had no problems staying warm. Feeling as if he was overheating and removed his oversized black North Face jacket. Settling into his night shift, Billy Preston reached into his bag to remove the wrapped Ham and Swiss with mayo and lettuce sub sandwich he purchased from the West Side market off Broad Street. The west side market was one of the few remaining independent restaurants left in the area; shopping there allowed Billy to reminisce about a time in Cape May where there were no Subway or Wawa chain stores, just mom-and-pop restaurants.
Parking the patrol car on Fisherman’s Wharf just after the bridge coming off the parkway south into Cape May on the last exit of the New Jersey Parkway, Officer Preston unwrapped the packaging of his Ham and Swiss and took the first bite of his nighttime lunch meal. Technically, Preston was looking for speeders coming over the bridge as he sat in the parking lot chewing with his mouth full. His vehicle was idling between the white building with black lettering reading Tony’s Marine Railway to his right and the yellow-green letter sign which read The Lobster House to his left. The front fender of the police car was pulled back from the road just a tad so as not to give his position away to any oncoming speeders.
Across the street from Preston, the aisle of seafood and independent pizza restaurants mixed with antique shops was his only view in the windy quiet. Briefly distracted as he opened the bag of UTZ potato chips and glanced away, he pulled the bag apart and heard the crisp sound of freshness in the pop of the bag before stopping in mid-ergonomic motion. A mid-aged blonde woman in a white dressing gown and brown sandals was walking in the middle of the street, using the double yellow line for direction heading into town. Her hands were open on her side as if cupped in mid-air, and the golden locks of blonde air flowed and moved with the oncoming funnels of wind. The white sheer gown blew tight against her bosom as she walked into the wind.
Preston had to snap himself out of what he was witnessing. His first instinct was that he must be imagining things as the woman walked at a slow pace down route six-thirty-three. Then he thought the woman must be a ghost. This must be what looking at a spirit, a pale phantom, or a specter looks like. The wind whipped through her hair and dress, and despite the bitter cold air outside the woman moved with non-descriptive movements, keeping a slow steady pace. The woman’s white clouds of breath proved she was alive. Even thirty feet from where Preston was sitting, he could see the cold white oxygen she breathed rise from her mouth and disappear into the dark.
Putting on the headlights and overhead flashers and placing the car into gear, Preston rolled ahead of the thin, white-gowned woman who did not seem alarmed at the flashing lights or concerned with his presence. Exiting the vehicle, Preston forgot to put his North Face winter coat back on and was struck by the immediate chill of the night as he closed his car door and approached the woman.
“Ma’am? Ma’am? Are you alright? Can I help you?” Officer Preston asked, removing his flashlight from his holster, and shining the light into her eyes.
Shining the flashlight in her eyes seemed to have awoken the woman from her daze as she stared at him and then, realizing she was cold, wrapped her arms around her bosom.
“I am so cold.” The woman mumbled, repeating the words over and over as they grew into a whisper.
“Who are you, and where are you heading?”
“I am so cold.” The woman repeated as Preston noticed her lips had grown blue and her face a bright red color in the cheeks as her forehead appeared to flush.
“Let’s get you inside the back of my vehicle, and I can take your information from there.” Preston encouraged her, escorting the woman to the back of his vehicle and opening the back door as the woman in white sat down.
Preston reached for his car door and climbed back behind the wheel. The back seat where the woman passenger sat was divided by a screen enmeshed in plexiglass with small round pockets to speak through. Preston turned around in the cab of the squad car and started the conversation over.
“Miss, could you please tell me where you were going tonight?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember.”
“Can you tell me your name or address?”
“I...I can’t remember.”
“Is there anything you do remember?”
“Only the cold.” The woman responded.
Picking up the radio transmitter, Preston held the mic down.
“Preston to dispatch, come in dispatch.”
“Go ahead, Billy,” Lorraine huffed from the Cape May Police Department.
“Lorraine, I have a scantily dressed woman with amnesia walking over the bridge down six-thirty-three into town,” Preston radioed.
“Sounds like your night is going better than mine. Do you need emergency services to respond?” Lorraine asked.
“No, aside from some amnesia, she seems okay. I don’t see sense in waking EMS to come out here, and I don’t have much going on here. I will drive her to the Cape May Regional Medical Center.”
“Copy. Don’t stay out too late.” Lorraine ribbed him.
“Yes, mom,” Preston replied, placing the radio microphone back into its holder on the dashboard panel and placing the car into gear. Looking into the rearview mirror at his passenger, he could see a blank aimless stare as the amnesic woman glared out the window over the bridge and onto the canal.
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OFF THE SOUTHERN TIP of Cape May, about twenty miles from shore, the thirty-foot boat the Mail Order Bride had halted its throttle. The ship's driver silenced the motor and looked back at the beach from the top deck to see the beam of light emanating from the still active beacon atop the Cape May lighthouse toward the sea, spinning round in circles. The coast guard still used the lighthouse built in eighteen fifty-nine with the beacon light extending twenty-four miles out to sea. It was the third lighthouse built on Cape May, with the other two lighthouses lost to erosion.
The driver of the boat grabbed the plastic hooded mask and placed it over his head before heading down the ladder to the deck and approaching the wooden chest. Dressed in a black cloak, the boat driver was now in full costume, wearing a mask of skull and bone, and the hooded black cloak representative of the Grim Reaper.
The Reaper removed a key from under their cloak pocket and placed it into the chest, unlocking the padlock on the latch. The click of the lock sound was lost as the ocean waves lapped onto the side of the boat and retreated away, rocking the ship slightly to and fro. The Reaper lifted the top of the chest and stared at the man bound inside. The elderly man was bound with sixty pounds of steel chain secured with no less than fifteen different padlocks.
The victim inside the trunk lifted his eyes at the Reaper, catching the plastic face mask in the light of the rotating light emanating from the lighthouse. The bound man still appeared foggy from the drugs, but something in his eyes gave the slightest bit of lucid recognition of what was occurring. Reaching into the Reaper’s cloak pocket, the Reaper produced a syringe, and removing the plastic cap, the Reaper reached down and plunged the tip of the needle into the bound victim’s neck.
Taking care not to put too much of the Devil’s Breath into his victim's neck, the Reaper withdrew the syringe. The Reaper was surprised by the power of the Devil’s Breath, also known as Scopolamine, having heard of its ability to render victims docile and incapable of exercising free will. The Devil’s Breath originated in Bogota, Colombia, from the Borrachero tree. Once extracted, the Scopolamine exhibits odorless, colorless, and tasteless, often producing strange dreams in its victims.
As the bound man in the trunk nodded their head down and closed his eyes to sleep, the Reaper wondered if the man was dreaming now. Was he dreaming of the Reaper? Did he see the Reaper’s face in his dream? Had he the slightest clue about what was about to happen? The Reaper tossed the syringe out to sea and began unlocking the chains binding him before closing the trunk lid and relocking the padlock on the front latch.
Bending forward, the Reaper began to push the trunk toward the front of the boat. The deck was slippery from the mist of the crashing waves combined with the weight of the man inside the chest and the additional sixty pounds of steel chain. Moving the trunk across the stern was difficult, as the Reaper experienced problems obtaining solid footing.
After an exhausting effort, the trunk went off the side of the boat, with the Reaper almost losing balance and having their momentum carry them off the side of the Mail Order Bride. Standing up and stretching, the Reaper could see the trunk bob and weave as it floated in the Atlantic. A small hole no bigger than the tip of a pencil had been drilled into the bottom of the trunk, ensuring a slow drowning death of the sleeping man inside.
Removing their face mask and cloak, the Reaper regained their position at the helm on the top deck of the Mail Order Bride. Taking the boat across the Atlantic away from Cape May Point and north towards the canal where the Reaper had appropriated the Mail Order Bride for the night from Utsch’s Marina on the canal's east end. Careful to remove all traces of the crime or the boat being used for the evening, the Mail Order Bride was returned to its slip spot, retied to the ballast, and wiped clean with no evidence of the boat’s role in the death of Gilbert Epson.