with a connection to the West.
_
"Dirtier than a Red Injun."
It's in the letter he wrote to Mrs. Santorelli.
He's witnessed these things probably as a child.
Here's another one... Of the patients who match
our description that have spent time in the West...
these four were sent to St. Elizabeth's Hospital in Washington.
I think he may have been a soldier.
- Have you told Kreizler? - You'll have to tell him.
Oh, come on. We'll go together.
- No. - Has something happened between you?
- You're in well over your head. - You don't scare me, Connor.
I'd very much like if you would join me for dinner.
_
Wonder what's gotten into her?
I'm curious how you propose to gain access
to Bunzl's records.
Laszlo?
Yes, John?
Your attention certainly seems to be drawn elsewhere this morning.
If you're referring to the fact I've not asked about what happened to your face,
it's only because I wanted to spare you the embarrassment.
What if I told you I'd met an old friend for a drink?
That resulted in two black eyes?
Sometimes, Laszlo, there are words spoken between people
that are to be left private.
What about Julia Pratt?
Julia Pratt?
Your former fiancée.
She lives in Washington, doesn't she?
Will you not take the time to see her?
Why should I take the time to see Julia Pratt?
Because you were in love with her.
I rarely think about that time in my life.
I've decided it's much better to look to the future
than dwell in the past.
I'm hungry.
Let's eat.
There's a French alienist named Broca I came across
when I researched Mary's aphasia.
He believes there's a certain section of the brain responsible for speech,
another for empathy, even one for love.
Love resides in the heart.
Nonsense. The heart is simply a muscle.
Love isn't a mystery any more than cholera.
- Cholera is a disease. - The point is,
each part of our brain has a function,
and that function is developed or impaired...
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They may as well blame me personally
for these murders.
I'll soon find myself tarred and feathered,
and it won't be metaphorically, either.
Dr. Kreizler is on his way to Washington,
if it's some consolation.
Your Indians proved illuminating, sir.
He believes there may be some connection
between our killer and the West.
Go on.
I believe I should have gone to Washington myself.
But that's not why you're upset.
I'm not entirely insensitive
to the hidden currents between people.
Dr. Kreizler may need your assistance
to gain entry into certain Federal institutions.
I have a friend there. He knows everyone in town.
- Hooker's Division. - How's that?
I was referring to the neighborhood.
During the war, General Hooker and his men
used to frequently enjoy the hospitality offered here
in their off-duty hours.
Ah, your finest whiskey, darlin'.
And bring yourself back here as soon as possible.
- Nothing. - Make it two.
Do you mind if I ask you what the other fellow looks like?
I'm sorry. The other fellow?
Commissioner Roosevelt said
you work at the Bureau of Indian Affairs?
Commissioner.
Theodore, he has a way of falling up.
Falling up?
Yes, well, there are some men who have a way about them
that even when they fail, they succeed.
My friend Moore here is hoping to examine records
- of unsolved massacres that took place out West. - Unsolved?
Not many of them, I can tell you.
We'd like to have a look anyway.
Would you care to dance, Mister?
I'm afraid I have two left feet. I would only embarrass myself.
- You look like the kind of man... - Thank you, but, no, thank you.
You got a taker here, sweet pea.
Come by my office in the morning.
You're Dr. Kreizler.
I heard a rumor you were on the premises.
I saw you speak at Johns Hopkins some years ago.
Dr. Ignatius Blunt.
It truly is an honor.
May I ask the... the purpose of your visit?
I'm looking for someone who was once a patient here.
- His name? - Rudolf Bunzl.
Yes. Uh, he was a soldier.
Served in the Army of the West, if I recall.
Tall, early 30s.
I believe he suffers from some sort of facial deformity,
something congenital or acquired in his youth.
No, in that case, I'm not sure he's your man.
There was someone else released years ago.
I don't recall his name.
He had a most...
horrific tic.
A tic?
Yes, intermittent and violent contraction
of the ocular and facial muscles.
What happened to him?
Iggy?
What have I told you about bothering our visitors?
I was just speaking with Dr. Kreizler about a patient.
You know we never discuss patients.
But he's a doctor.
Iggy?
It was a honor to meet you, Dr. Kreizler.
Army surgeon.
Hacked off a few too many limbs at Gettysburg.
Never quite the same.
I'm afraid I've some bad news, Dr. Kreizler.
The patient you were inquiring after is dead.
Our records indicate that Rudolf Bunzl died
and was buried at Arlington... let's see,
four months ago.
I'm, uh, sorry to disappoint you.
Dr. Dillman, was there a patient here some time back
who suffered from a facial tic, one with intermittent
and violent contractions around the eyes?
Doesn't ring a bell, but then, I'm fairly new here.
Do you mind if I have a look at the records?
Dr. Kreizler, I was instructed to offer you assistance.
I believe I've done what was asked of me.
I'll be searching within a very narrow range of indicators.
We have over 10,000 records stored here.
I've all afternoon.
The type of mutilations tells you which tribe is responsible.
These were... Well, it's hard to tell from a photograph.
What's that in his mouth?
That, my good man, is what every fella thinks with,
and I'm not talking about his brains.
We were the same,
took our fair share of peckers and ears along the way.
Boys will be boys.
Chops?
- Chops? - Lunch.
There's a splendid place on the Hill that serves them.
Good beer, too.
I think I'll poke through the rest of these.
Just leave them on the table when you're done.
Teething. I'm sure that's what it is. She's at that age.
- Well, is there anything I can do? - Clove oil.
Dab a bit on your finger and rub it into your baby's gums.
- It acts as a mild analgesic. - How much?
Don't worry. It's only a bit of clove oil.
I want to pay for it, Mr. Freewater.
I can take care of my daughter alone. Here.
I'll take this one. Here.
I can tell by the expression on your face
you were as successful as I was.
- How successful were you? - I found nothing.
Every unsolved massacre
was inevitably attributed to marauding Indians.
They seem to have become a symbol for all forms of savagery.
What did you find?
The man we came to inquire after is dead.
- Dead? - As a hobnail.
Upon further investigation, I found another soldier,
one who fit our circumstances,
but had never served further west than Chicago.
And I found a murder that fit our circumstances
but took place in upstate New York.
The local constabulary investigated
and attributed it to marauding Indians,
supposedly seeking revenge on a minister and his wife.
Where? What town?
New Paltz.
What is it?
Look at this. The other soldier that drew my attention...
Corporal John Beecham.
Suffered from a most noticeable facial tic.
Look at his place of birth.
New Paltz.
Coincidence?
I need to see the official records, of course.
In the meantime, ring Miss Howard.
- Let her know what we've found. - Me? Why don't you tell me
what happened between the two of you?
She's to use her authority to find out more
about this massacre from local officials.
Miss Howard? Telephone.
- Police headquarters. - Yes, sir.
This is Miss Howard.
Sara? Listen to me. We've found something.
There was a massacre in New Paltz.
It's possible it was committed by a man named Beecham.
John Beecham.
Go on.
16 years ago, a minister and his wife,
savagely murdered, supposedly by Indians.
They had a son that survived, and he lives not far from Boston.
Kreizler and I intend to go speak with him.
- His name's Adam Dury. - Shall I meet you?
No, no. Kreizler feels you'll be more useful where you are.
He'd like you to contact the authorities in New Paltz
and see if they have any more information on the murders.
But I can't just stay here.
Why isn't he calling me himself?
What?
Sara?
- I'm here. - There's one more thing.
You're to inform the Isaacsons
they're to be on the first train west
to rendezvous with John Beecham's former commander.
I'll let them know.
- Sara? - Yes?
Be careful.
Do you think we'll see any buffalo in North Dakota?
If they haven't all been killed.
What about Indians?
If they haven't all been killed.
You know, why should I care if that's Esther's baby?
- You don't believe me, do you? - Believe what?
That I don't have feelings for Esther.
I came into this world two minutes before you did.
I know you better than anyone.
I know you better than you know yourself.
You're in love with Esther.
Do you regret not visiting Julia?
We hardly had time.
One makes time when one wants to.
Then there's your answer.
I can't believe we're bypassing New York
and going straightaway to God-knows-where.
Newton, Massachusetts.
May I ask, why are you so interested?
Adam Dury lives there.
I meant in my seeing Julia.
I remember when you first met Julia.
Your company was rather dull
because you could think of nothing else.
What does it feel like when you're in the first throes?
Restlessness, above all.
Your mind is never still.
You wait at a street corner in case she happens to pass by...
attend a party that you'd otherwise dread
in hopes she's been invited.
And you try to bring every conversation back to love.
Are you Miss Howard?
- Yes. - I'm Eliza.
Mrs. Kirkpatrick sent me to fetch you.
- From the boarding house? - Yes, Miss. Let me take your bag.
It'll be dark soon.
Mrs. Kirkpatrick said I should take you
over to the old Dury place in the morning.
What do you sell?
What do I sell?
Most of the boarders we get are salesmen.
I work for the New York Police Department.
I never heard of a lady working for the police,
especially in New York City.
I'm the first.
Excuse me? What are those mountains?
You mean the Gunks?
The Gunks?
Shawangunks. Locals call 'em "Gunks" for short.
Do people climb them?
Oh, yes. I climb them myself.
You?
Why shouldn't I?
Newton, Massachusetts.
I believe there's a factory there that makes a biscuit
my grandmother is very fond of.
- Your grandmother? - Yes, made with figs.
Ghastly sounding, but she swears by them.
I think it best we stay the night
and attempt to speak to Mr. Dury tomorrow.
And no mention of the Dury name to anyone.
You think there might be trouble?
Let's just say, I'd rather he wasn't expecting us.
- It's not respecting the dead. - What isn't?
This. You're sightseeing,
acting like a ghoulish tourist visiting a gravesite.
People visit the pyramids. They're gravesites.
That's different. This is Sitting Bull.
Battle of Little Big Horn. Custer's Last Stand.
Are you the men waiting to see Captain Miller?
Yes. I'm Detective Sergeant Marcus Isaacson,
and this is my brother...
? Jesus loves the little children ?
? All the children of the world ?
? Red and yellow, black and white ?
? They are precious in his sight ?
You've come all this way to inquire about Corporal Beecham?
- You remember him? - Remember him?
It's been 10 years, and I can't get him out of my head.
His army records state that he was sent
to the Government Hospital for the Insane
after being found unfit for service.
It says you were the officer who relieved him of his duty.
It was the Regimental Surgeon who declared him unfit to serve
and sent him back east.
Would you say he was a good soldier?
At first. He was disciplined,
attentive to detail, efficient.
Didn't get on with the other men,
but I put that down to him being religious
and disapproving of their whoring and drinking.
I've seen men driven to bloodlust out here in the West.
Never in a place like Chicago
and certainly not in the course of a labor riot.
- You're talking about the Haymarket riots? - That's right.
We were called in to keep the peace,
but the violence got ugly.
A bomb thrown amongst police, rioters shot and killed.
I mean, you must be half-crazy to do what he did that day.
What exactly did he do?
I came across him sitting astride a dead striker,
Young man... boy, really...
in a back alley.
He was stabbing at the body with a knife, over and over.
That wasn't the worst of it.
He was naked.
Naked?
From head to foot,
drenched in blood.
Down there, between his legs,
he was stiff as a flagpole.
Jesus! That child ever stop bawlin'?!
Well, it'd have helped if her father took her for once.
That's enough from you, woman.
Let her suck on some candy.
Thank you, Mr. Byrnes, but she's got no teeth.
Why don't you give it to your namesake then?
Here you go, young Thomas. You take it.
Got a tongue in your head, haven't you? What you say?
- Thank you, sir. - You're welcome, young man.
Go on, git.
All o' ya.
They was two days snoopin' around Washington,
in and out of various buildings and such.
Do you know what they were looking for?
Cowboys and Indians, it seems.
Whoever does solve these murders,
one thing's for certain...
it's not going to be...
That alienist?
I'm not going to let him throw
30 bloody years of police work out the window.
Do you understand me?
I'll let the Swede know of your concerns.
You knew them?
The Dury Family?
I knew them. The whole town knew them.
The reverend and his wife,
Adam, their oldest.
My brother went to school with the youngest.
Japheth.
He was the one kidnapped by Indians.
That's what the papers said at the time.
Can't keep the Sheriff waiting.
House is this way, what's left of it.
You the gal from the city?
I'm Miss Howard of the New York Police Department.
Well, I can't say Mr. Roosevelt is a popular man in these parts.
Thank you for agreeing to meet.
My pleasure.
Sheriff Early, are you familiar with what happened here?
I was a deputy at the time.
I seen what was done to 'em.
And what was done to them?
Butchered.
Like hogs.
This here's the Adam Dury farm, gentlemen.
Ho, now. Ho.
Thattaboy.
Hello?
Mr. Dury?
Anybody here?
Mr. Dury, we only want to talk.
Don't suppose you know where your master might be?
Good morning, Mr. Dury.
Mr. Dury,
my name is John Schuyler Moore,
and I work for The New York Times.
We've only come to talk.
We know you'd already left home...
when the event occurred.
"Home."
That's a poor description of it.
If you ask me, old Reverend Dury
couldn't save anyone's soul with his hellfire and damnation,
let alone redskins.
He weren't a missionary very long 'fore he was
driven off the Plains and back to civilization.
And when he come back here,
he brought pictures with him
of dead white folks... folks he'd seen
mutilated in the Minnesota Massacre of '62.
Pictures?
Photographs.
Awful, they were.
Used to show 'em to the town children,
tell 'em that's what would happen
if you're not God-fearin'.
Nobody liked him much...
or his wife.
And nobody blamed them Injuns for comin' all the way back here,
stealing their boy Japheth and getting revenge on 'em
for whatever they done out West.
You really think it was Indians that killed them?
That's what the record say happened 16 years ago,
and that's what I say happened 16 years ago.
So if you have no more questions, I'll be on my way.
Don't believe a word he says.
Mr. Dury, we were hoping to ask you some questions.
I don't speak ill of the dead...
even if they deserve it.
That is why you're here, isn't it?
We've no intention of disparaging your parents, Mr. Dury.
It's the police investigation of their deaths
that we believe was flawed.
Perhaps you'd care to talk about a different aspect of the case.
Tell us about your brother.
Japheth?
What do you want to know about him?
He'd be in town sometimes after school,
fetching something for his mother or
running errands for his father.
He didn't have any friends, not with that condition of his.
What condition was that?
His face was always twitchin',
like he was in terrible pain.
Adam Dury didn't want his parents' house. Nobody did.
I don't blame 'em.
It's full of ghosts.
I taught him how to hunt with snares,
skin animals.
Thought it would do some good, but...
but even then, he couldn't escape her shadow.
"Her shadow"?
My mother. She was a...
She was a woman with no heart.
With me, it was mostly indifference, but, uh, with Japheth...
with Japheth, she was at him all the time.
Telling him that he wasn't hers...
it was man-eating savages left him on our doorstep.
She said that he was the bastard child of the Red Injun.
And the only time my poor brother's soul
knew any peace was when he was in those mountains, climbing.
The spasms in his face would stop,
and it'd be still as a pond.
He stuck to the rock face like a lizard.
I never seen anyone like Japheth Dury.
You said he had no friends. Did he climb alone then?
Mostly, though there was a time someone else climbed with him.
Another fellow, a farmhand.
Older. Took a liking to Japheth.
I trusted him to look after my brother.
He betrayed that trust.
Mr. Dury,
what do you think happened to your brother?
Japheth came home one night. He was upset.
Sobbing, cursing...
Bleeding... down there.
I'd have ripped that man's throat out myself, I'd ever gotten the chance.
This man... is he still around?
In a manner of speaking.
- What manner is that? - In a manner not of this Earth.
He died up in the Gunks. Fell off a thousand-foot cliff.
That was right around the time the Durys were killed.
Do you think it was an accident?
An accident? His throat was cut from ear to ear.
His eyes were missing.
Do you remember his name?
I won't never forget it.
Beecham.
George Beecham.
Extra! Extra!
Come and get your newspapers!
Theodore.
I recently had a meeting with Chief Byrnes.
Ex-Chief Byrnes.
Excuse me. Could you box that up for me, please?
Certainly.
Look, there's no reason for you and Byrnes
to butt heads over this child killer.
People aren't ready for this
new highfalutin form of investigation.
They just want this son of bitch caught.
It'd scare the people if they were to find out
that an alienist could figure out who the killer was
before their police department could.
Why are you telling me this?
Because faith is a terrible thing
to take away from a man, Theodore.
It's like taking away his future.
You can't stop the future.
The facial spasms,
the hunting, the climbing... it has to be him.
I don't know why, but...
I almost feel sorry for him.
The better angels of our nature.
Laszlo, are you all right?
I don't believe it's hit bone.
You need to tie it off.
Why do you think we've been followed all the way up here?
Because we know too much.
John, if I don't get away and you do,
I need you to give someone a message.
You'll have to deliver that message yourself,
as I have no intention of either of us dying today.
Laszlo, we must hurry.
I think it's best if we stick to the woods.
Is the pain better or worse?
Hard to tell.
I think my brain has already habituated to it.
What did you want to tell me?
Your message.
Oh, it's nothing.
I'm not a fool, Laszlo.
I've been in love enough times to recognize that look.
"Dull," I think you called it.
Does she know how you feel?
Not the extent of it.
And is it reciprocated?
Yes.
Of course, I...
I suspected it all along, but to actually hear you say it...
She's wonderful.
She'll make you very happy.
Look after her, Laszlo.
I shall do my best.
Well, I suppose I can brag that I introduced the two of you.
I'm not speaking of Sara.
Who then?
Mary.
Mary?
I know it's hard to comprehend.
I've questioned my own feelings many times.
I told myself it's concern and duty on my part,
dependence on hers.
And naturally, I realize how inappropriate it is, but...
there are certain things a man cannot control.
I told you,
love resides in the heart.
Nonsense.
It's still physiology.
My brain reacts to qualities in her that I lack in myself...
kindness,
warmth,
courage.
Humility.
That, too.
No one deserves it more.
You were jealous.
Come on.
Thank you, Mary.
If I didn't know better,
I would think that you never wanted your room back.
Must be the Doctor.
Good evening, Miss.
Pardon us for letting ourselves in.
Is...
the good Doctor home?
I mean, certainly, he must be home by now.
We'll just have a look around.
Dr. Kreizler?
Where is he?
Upstairs?
I'm sure you've spent many a fine evening up there.
Cat got your tongue, has it?
Fine.
I'll have a look for meself, so...
What do you think you're doing?
Answer me.
Run, Mary! Run!
Run!
Kreizler!
Where in the name of God is he?
It's like that, is it?
Come here, you filthy shag!
Me leg!
Come here. Come here.
Give me that.
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