Chapters (206)
- Praise for Maplecroft
- Title page
- Copyright page
- Contents
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- THESE ARE THE THINGS AN EARTHQUAKE BRINGS
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- A DOCTOR, A LAWYER, A MERCHANT, A CHIEF
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- Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- BE SURE YOUR SINS WILL FIND YOU OUT
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- I CROSS THE MAGPIE, THE MAGPIE CROSSES ME
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- Nance O’Neil
- THIS KNOT I KNIT, THIS KNOT I TIE
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- AND IF YOU HAVE A HORSE WITH ONE WHITE LEG . . .
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- THE WORST IS TO BE JUDGED WITHOUT HOPE
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- BUT NETTLE SHANT HAVE NOTHING
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- CUT THEM ON FRIDAY, YOU CUT THEM FOR SORROW
- Phillip Zollicoffer, Professor of Biology, Miskatonic University
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- HAPPY IS THE CORPSE THAT THE RAIN SHINES ON
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- A DWELLING PLACE OF JACKALS, THE DESOLATION FOREVER
- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Nance O’Neil
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- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- RIGHT CHEEK, LEFT CHEEK—WHY DO YOU BURN?
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- Aaron B. Stewart, Fire Chief, Farthington, Mass.
- Emma L. Borden
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- Gerald Macintyre, Telegraph Clerk, Western Union
- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Physalia, Z. University I Was Not Now
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- DEPART, ALL ANIMALS WITHOUT BONES
- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
- Phillip Zollicoffer. Physalia Zollicoffris.
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- Christoff Dane, M.D., Ph.D., University of Rhode Island, Kingston
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- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Emma L. Borden
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- FAMILY SLAIN IN MAYFIELD
- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Emma L. Borden
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- Owen Seabury, M.D.
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- Lizzie Andrew Borden
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- Inspector Simon Wolf
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“We found its remains scattered across several rooms. Listen, Doctor . . .” He shifted the conversation quickly, but the queasy feeling that arose in my stomach was not so swiftly appeased. “The moment she was left alone, she broke a window and used the glass to slice her wrists, and then her throat. She did such a thorough job that if a physician such as yourself had been on hand when she’d begun, you couldn’t have saved her. No, she was determined. And no, I don’t believe she wrote the missive. Whoever composed it . . . whoever he was . . .” He stared down at the sheet, as if his willpower could compel it to give him more information. “He wants to visit this E. A. Jackson. And I believe that the mysterious doctor is here, somewhere in Fall River.”
Carefully, I said, “What leads you to that conclusion?”
“Miskatonic University leads me to that conclusion.” He withdrew another set of papers from his internal pockets, and for one insane moment I fancied his vest to be a magician’s hat. “For it is upon that campus where yet another incident occurred, and unless I miss my guess, it was the very first.”
He laid out a newspaper article in front of me. I skimmed it, reading with a dull sense of horror that a professor had lost his mind and murdered half a dozen of his peers before vanishing. I checked the date: December 7, the previous year.
“Phillip Zollicoffer.” I read the name aloud. “Went mad and went on a . . . a spree, to use the word we nearly avoided earlier.”
“A madman, to be sure. A brilliant one, with traceable degrees and a career of genius to recommend him. But something snapped, and now I suppose the university will need to hire a few more heads to round out its classrooms,” he said drolly. “And look, it’s the name, you see—here in the note. Zollicoffris. That’s what he calls his ‘sample,’ whatever on earth that might be. When I asked after him at the university, I received more details than I’d ever care to hear, to be frank, but it’s my duty to hear them, and I did. Indeed, he’d been corresponding with Doctor Jackson, who it would seem is quite an authority to be respected, in those circles.”
He sighed.
I said, “So this professor, Zollicoffer, he goes on a killing spree at his place of employment and disappears—only to continue the spree elsewhere?”