The Resurrected

Charles Ward's escaped.

- How did he get out? - Looks like he went out the window.

- How did he get loose from his restraints? - I don't know, doc.

We got one hell of a mess in there doctor.

I ain't going in there. There's no way for nothing I'm going in there.

- What's the matter with the light? - Dealing with it right now, sir.

What in the hell happened here?

- What do you have down there? - It's Ward's suitcase.

Testing...

Testing...

This closes the case of Charles Dexter Ward

I'm telling this now, while all the details are still fresh in my mind

I don't expect anyone to believe this. I...

I don't even know if I believe it myself.

I can't trust my eyes anymore,

even when I sleep.

I haven't slept in days,

but when I do, I hate what I see.

Three weeks ago, Providence was a sane enough place.

It's a smallish city on a small corner

of the smallest state in the Union.

It's inhabitants enjoy the eastern sea breeze,

except in the summer when the river starts to smell.

But that smell is historic, having stunk since the time of the witch hunts.

The whole place reeks of history.

And history, I've learned, can jump up and bite you.

This piece of history began simply enough...

- Good morning. I'm... John March. - Claire Ward.

Come in, Mrs. Ward. Have a seat.

- I'll take that for you - Thank you.

- Would either of you like coffee or tea? - Nothing, thank you.

I'm fine. Actually, some erm... Tea please.

Yes, sir.

You were recommended to me, Mr. March, by my friend Elaine James.

Formerly Mrs. Arthur James.

Oh yes, erm, please say hello to Mrs. James for me.

Elaine said that you were highly capable.

She also said that I could trust your discretion.

Thank you.

My husband has moved out of the house.

The police came to our house last night. They asked me questions.

About what?

About contraband that they found in Charles' possession.

What sort of contraband?

Apparently, remains from a cemetery.

Do you mean human remains?

I see. And how did your husband explain that?

I don't know. I haven't spoken to him for more than two weeks.

I've tried to reach him, but he seems to be avoiding me.

Our wedding anniversary is coming up, and...

Do you mind? It's just a tool of the trade.

Why did Charles move out?

I erm... I suppose I drove him out

It was the night of October 1st, and we were hosting a fundraiser

for Senator O'Neils re-election campaign.

Half way through the evening, Charles said that...

he had work that couldn't wait, and just left.

Hey, stop. What's going on?

Darling, there's some work I have to do that simply can't wait.

- Now? - Yes, now.

In the middle of party with all these guests here, you can't just leave now.

Well, I'm sorry. Please offer them my apologies. Tell them I'm sorry,

I had to go. Alright?

...and left all those people standing there and went out to the carriage house.

He'd built himself a laboratory out there.

A laboratory?

My husband is the head of chemical engineering for Belmont Cosmetics.

Long after everyone had left, he was still carrying on in there.

- What do you mean, 'carrying on'? - I don't know what he was doing.

There were awful smells coming from the

carriage house. A lot of noises. Loud shouting.

Shouting?

All I know is that I wanted him to stop.

I erm...

I guess I lost it. I screamed at him that he'd have to...

find some other place for whatever it was he was doing...

You're going to have to find some other place

to do whatever it is you're doing out there!

The next morning, I saw him loading his equipment into a van.

And then I saw he was with that man, that Dr. Ash.

Who's Dr. Ash?

I don't know, somebody Charles met.

I've found a better place to work. I'm sorry it took so long.

Sorry about last night.

You've been so patient.

Charles, what is it? What are you working on?

I promise... I promise I'll tell you everything when the time's right.

Trust me?

Do you trust him?

He's my husband, and I love him.

And I believe he's sincere.

How did the police get involved?

A man named Lucius Fenner called me.

He's an old, retired gentleman who lives across

the River Road from where Charles set up shop.

Mr. Fenner was complaining that Charles

was working all night...

and keeping him awake, receiving deliveries at all hours.

But apparently, Charles ignored his complaints,

until Mr. Fenner's fighting nature was aroused.

And Fenner called the cops...

Yes, and they showed up just as Charles was receiving another shipment of...

...those long boxes.

I want to know what he's doing.

Mrs. Ward, you wouldn't happen to have your husbands social security number, would you?

What are you going to do, audit him?

No, no, it's just the way we work today.

But that one number gets me his entire life. There's a lot of shoe leather.

Well I can get it for you. Does that mean you'll take the case?

I'll tell you what.

I'll take a drive out, to see what Charles is up to.

Doesn't look like it's on the level, well, we'll discuss my taking your case.

How does that sound?

- I appreciate it, Mr. March. - My pleasure.

And don't forget, your husbands social security number.

I won't.

- Not too shabby, boss. - Take it easy, Lonnie.

So, what did miss manners want?

Oh, same old story. Husband's dabbling in grave robbery.

What?

I don't know, that's why I'm a detective. To find out all about what I don't know.

Well, are you going to take the case?

Softly softly catchie monkey. OK?

Lonnie, erm...

Call your contact in the PD. Find out what really happened out in the Ward place.

Pawtuxet Valley. Sunday. OK?

- You got it, boss. - Thanks.

- Gee, she was pretty! - Polly, she is a client.

I'd spent the better part of my life in Providence,

but I'd never ventured out to the Pawtuxet valley.

You always got a strange feeling when you met someone from the valley, like...

like maybe they were hiding something.

Hello?

Anybody here?

You're standing in dogs blood.

Dang mutt,

ran in front of the truck out front. Splattered everywhere.

Last few weeks we had a lot of trouble with...

...wild dogs round here.

Running into trucks, wrapping themselves around axles. What a mess.

Hey...

- Could I have some gas if you don't mind. - No problem, come on.

Listen, I'm looking for the Ward place out on, erm, River Road.

Couldn't find it on my map. Could you point me in the right direction?

Ward, huh?

Could you be a little more specific? I've been driving for almost two hours.

Just keep your window down, the smell will take you right up the driveway.

The smell? What kind of smell?

Like that dog.

Smells like death.

Thanks.

No mail box, no address...

1.6 miles south east of the gas station,

just past the cemetery.

You start to smell it half a mile away.

You'd have to pay me...

five figures to go there after dark.

Hank O'Hara, fire inspectors office.

We've got a report that some flammable materials are being stored here.

We'll need to inspect the premises. Are you Mr. Ward?

I see. Then could you call Mr. Ward to the door please?

Raymond...

I'm Charles Ward, what can I do for you?

Fire inspectors office. We got a call from the police about...

some hazardous chemicals being stored here without a permit.

All that business was taken care of yesterday.

I see.

- You mind if I look around? - Yes. I do, I mind very much!

Do you have a warrant?

Actually I'd like to know what kind of research you might be doing out here,

what kind of chemicals you might be using.

I noticed a very peculiar smell.

The smell is from the remains of lab animals that I haven't cremated yet.

When I do, I assure you that it will be in...

a small incinerator with every precaution

...respectfully taken.

One more thing, sir...

do you mind telling me what was in those long boxes of yours?

I'm afraid that's none of your business.

Good day.

So, Charles Ward pulls up stakes and moves to the country. So what?

Maybe he does need time to himself.

Maybe Claire's driving him crazy.

- What you want on your dog? - I'd like... erm...

Thanks.

VANDALISM AT CEMETERY

- Hello? - It's me.

Lonnie, what have you got for me?

Yeah, about the raid on Wards place.

Yeah, the raid. You mean the police?

That's the one. You ready for this?

The cops found eight, count 'em, eight boxes of human remains.

Nothing fresh mind you, old bones. Pretty stale too.

Ward said it was all a shipping mistake, but here comes the good part.

Somebody down the precinct remembers this tip they got about drug smugglers,

smuggling corpus dilecti's along with their dope.

They ran a check through Interpol. Turns out they've

had a rash of tomb snatchings over in Europe.

38 in one month.

Honorius I, Cosimo Ruggeri, Walter Bauld, Nickolai Simanof