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Chapters (206)
  1. Praise for Maplecroft
  2. Title page
  3. Copyright page
  4. Contents
  5. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  6. THESE ARE THE THINGS AN EARTHQUAKE BRINGS
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  12. A DOCTOR, A LAWYER, A MERCHANT, A CHIEF
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  20. Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
  21. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  26. BE SURE YOUR SINS WILL FIND YOU OUT
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  29. I CROSS THE MAGPIE, THE MAGPIE CROSSES ME
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  31. Nance O’Neil
  32. THIS KNOT I KNIT, THIS KNOT I TIE
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  37. AND IF YOU HAVE A HORSE WITH ONE WHITE LEG . . .
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  43. THE WORST IS TO BE JUDGED WITHOUT HOPE
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  46. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  53. BUT NETTLE SHANT HAVE NOTHING
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  55. CUT THEM ON FRIDAY, YOU CUT THEM FOR SORROW
  56. Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
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  62. HAPPY IS THE CORPSE THAT THE RAIN SHINES ON
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  67. A DWELLING PLACE OF JACKALS, THE DESOLATION FOREVER
  68. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  71. Nance O’Neil
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  84. Emma L. Borden
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  88. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  91. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  93. RIGHT CHEEK, LEFT CHEEK—WHY DO YOU BURN?
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  101. Aaron B. Stewart, Fire Chief, Farthington, Mass.
  102. Emma L. Borden
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  104. Gerald Macintyre, Telegraph Clerk, Western Union
  105. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  107. Physalia, Z. University I Was Not Now
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  109. DEPART, ALL ANIMALS WITHOUT BONES
  110. Emma L. Borden
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  115. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  119. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  130. Owen Seabury, M.D.
  131. Phillip Zollicoffer. Physalia Zollicoffris.
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  137. Christoff Dane, M.D., Ph.D., University of Rhode Island, Kingston
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  139. Emma L. Borden
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  144. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  150. Emma L. Borden
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  153. FAMILY SLAIN IN MAYFIELD
  154. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  165. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  176. Emma L. Borden
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  186. Owen Seabury, M.D.
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  197. Lizzie Andrew Borden
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  205. Inspector Simon Wolf
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But what a terrifying thought, that the world’s foremost expert knew only enough to live in horror.

Aaron B. Stewart, Fire Chief, Farthington, Mass.

APRIL 26, 1894
INFORMAL REPORT SUBMITTED TO COUNTY SUPERVISOR MARTIN HELLERMAN

Since you’ve pressed us for particulars outside the bounds of the standard report, I will cheerfully oblige you—for there’s nothing I can give you but the truth, and I must trust that it proves sufficient to appease the adjusters, or whoever leans upon you to lean upon us.

The call came at approximately four forty-five a.m. via James Horner, who arrived at the main station on horseback. He was frantic, and all the way from the other side of town he’d been rousing the populace, a veritable Paul Revere shouting out that the fire was coming, the fire was coming. Or rather, the fire had arrived—in all its sky-high glory, and the entire block would shortly be consumed if nothing was done, and done promptly.

The block in question once housed the Franklin Cassock Cannery and Shipping Facility, which closed eight years ago, in the wake of some industrial accident which was never satisfactorily explained. Something about a belt snapping, a compression device failing, and to sum up a tragic and tedious tale: a dozen people were killed. Whichever Cassock son ran the operation at the time (and I can’t remember the name off the top of my head, but it’s a matter of public record, I should think) . . . he never recovered from the shock. He witnessed the catastrophe firsthand, and subsequently took leave of his senses. Truly, the matter was heartrending for all involved.

But I tell you all that to say this: The place had been abandoned since the late 1880s, and boarded up tight to keep out the daring youths and derelicts who might be drawn to it. Though, all things considered, it wasn’t quite the problem you’d expect. The old cannery was rumored to be haunted—and not in the charming, romantic way that attracts curiosity seekers, but in the fashion that frightens off all but the most desperate or inebriated. The buildings have been listed for sale for quite some time, but to the best of my knowledge there have been no offers, and no interested parties in pursuit of redevelopment.

The site has not seen a great deal of trespassing. That’s what I wish to convey.

But at four forty-five in the morning, Horner came around crying about a fire—warning that it would surely consume the entire block, and it might well spread farther than that if the whole community were not rallied on the spot.