Skip to main content Skip to navigation

The Sewer Rat Murders by Brittany Garvey

A light, hazy rain had filled the sky when I found her. The naked, twisted, broken form of a young woman laid in the putrid sewers under the city. I looked down at her. These things were never easy. Without looking behind me, I sighed, “Terrance? Please contact the Shirakawa family. We have found their daughter.”As I made my way down into the waters of the sewer, I averted my eyes to shield myself against her nakedness. I didn’t want to dishonor her memory. Removing the duster from my back, I placed it over her. She deserved some dignity. She had been such a sweet girl. It was troubling to know that such a young woman was treated like a common whore upon her death. Her brother would be livid. She was very important to him.

“Sir,” a voice came from above me, “The mortician is here.”

“Good. Send him down.

A carriage was waiting outside the morgue when we arrived. I groaned to myself. The girl’s family was already here. They had their traditions and if we didn’t follow them, death would come to us. Her body would need to be prepared so that it could be shipped back to Japan for burial alongside the rest of the family. They would have many demands of both the morgue and myself. Right now, I didn’t have any answers.

“Harrison,” a voice boomed through the building as I entered the main hall. At the top of the stairs a deathly stoic, yet angered, man glared down at me. He was the young girl’s brother, Takashi Shirakawa, the heir to a large investment company and an illegal weapons dealer. His collections were quite extensive. “I should very well kill you for what happened to my sister.”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” I responded, trying to not sound overly familiar to listening ears, “could you wait until after I find her murderer?”

“Do you have any leads?” His voice was less angry.

I didn’t want to lie to him, but I couldn’t very well let him believe that I was a failure as the city’s inspector. This was even more true after he had gone through the trouble of acquisitioning the position for me. In a bout of stupidity, I laughed, “Of course.” In my continued foolishness, I had the bright idea to add, “Would you care to join me?”

To this point I had only heard of the cruel things these Shirakawa men were known for. His brightened demeanor should have been my first warning as to what was going to come.

We traveled to various parts of the city. I feigned knowledge while questioning various shop owners. Needless to say, it didn’t take Takashi long to catch on. To say that he was astute, would be an understatement. Still, I had hoped that he would remain in the dark until I had procured at least some sort of lead.

Upon our return to the morgue, that evening, he confronted me. The look I received as he loomed over me still gives me chills. Friend or not, he was a man that wasn’t afraid to kill.

“Do not waste my time,” he growled. “You have squandered precious daylight. Find my sister’s murderer, Harrison.”

I found my back against the paneling, speechless. Even my mind went dead. The opening of his coat had been moved aside to show his newly acquired Smith and Wesson revolver. He must have noticed my intense stare as I looked at it. Pushing away from the wall, he stepped back. Gingerly, he pulled it out and moved it around in his hands, almost as if he were cradling a babe.

“It is a beautiful piece, is it not?”

I nodded, choosing to stay quiet as to not upset the beast inside him.

He sighed as he holstered it. “I won’t dirty it on you.” I found him smiling at me. “Come now, my friend. You know that I will not cause you any harm. After all, you will catch my sweet baby sister’s murderer, will you not?”

Over the next week, I increased my search for any evidence. Everything came up dry. Takashi’s frustration increased, which left me scrambling. One night, I found myself being greeted by Terrance as I stepped out of my home. His face was so pale, one would wonder if he had been visited by one of Dickens’ ghosts.

“Come inside,” I said, offering him my hand.

He refused, shaking his head. He stammered, “Sir, another girl was found. She died in a similar fashion and was also found in the sewers.”

My heart sank. The murder was not isolated. We needed to keep these murders from the public. The city was having a hard enough time growing and staying stable. Excusing myself, I grabbed my coat and we ran to the morgue, arriving just as the mortician was pulling in.

“Sir,” I called out to the mortician as the body was being carried in.

The mortician, with his advanced years and gentle blue eyes, silenced me and motioned for me to follow him. There was something about his eyes that caught me off guard. It wasn’t until I saw the poor young woman that I realized why he was so silent.

“My deepest condolences,” was all I could say as I covered his granddaughter’s face. “What can you tell me?”

He sighed deeply as he lit his pipe. The perfume of his tobacco quickly enveloped the room. After a few minutes of silence, he looked at me. His face was contorted with grief.

“She was my only granddaughter. A good girl.” A few tears left his eyes, as he took several breaths to calm himself. “She was going to go to London next year . . . for medical school. She was a good girl. Not some street harlot.” As he looked at me, his old blue eyes bore down into my very soul. It was as if death’s grip was coming for him. “I beg you. Please find this mad man.”

Looking over at the girl’s covered body, all I could say was, “I will ensure it. We will find him. I will ensure that justice is served.”

Unfortunately, that was easier to be said than done. This most recent crime scene was as dry as the last. I had no idea where to begin. Here I was, a new inspector of a major city, unable to truly do my job. In desperation, I returned to the sewer where I had found the first body.

The street was your average street. Nothing stood out as unusual. The shops were like any other—pastry shops, barber shops, a bank, then a small school. Although, I do have to admit that there was an opium den tucked behind the bank. It didn’t seem off for the times, however. I then travelled back to the second location. Again, nothing stood out. I was baffled as to how to connect the two murders. We never released the news about the Shirakawa girl’s death. I knew they had to be connected. Yet, there wasn’t a way to know for certain. Needless to say, I was getting frustrated.

I found myself in one of the many drinking establishments. I will pause to say that they were legal at the time. Besides that, I did indulge in a light drink of absinthe. It was, at the time, my guilty pleasure. This night in particular, I may have over-indulged. I quickly found myself sitting with a large group chattering, drinking, and laughing. Needless to say, I awoke the next day to find myself in Takashi’s care. He had watched over me in my own home, as I restored my proper constitution.

Per his usual behavior, he informed me of my poor decorum and that he would not come to my rescue if I were to indulge further. I could not ask for a better friend. It was like old times; we spent a good part of the morning catching up. He had gone to Japan with his sister to ensure that she received a proper burial.

As the morning drew to a close, his face went from its usual joviality to weary and run thin.

“My friend,” he began, “my father has decided to cut all ties with Japan. The death of Machiko was more than he could handle. He does not want us to continue with the family name.”

“You make it sound like you will kill yourself,” I joked, not realizing that was actually a ritual to restore honor.

He half smiled, but the seriousness did not leave his face. “He wants me to come up with a new surname.”

“I hear Smith is popular,” I said, desperately wanting to lighten the mood.

To some success, he chuckled, “so I hear. Perhaps I should just move to New York. America is supposed to be full of opportunity.”

“Whelken needs you,” I said. How true that would become. We did need him.

Our conversation was cut short by an errand boy at the door. He handed me a letter before scurrying, most likely, back to the dens. I stared at the words. It was from the mortician. There had been another murder. Without even needing to speak, Takashi tossed my coat onto my lap.

“Let us hurry then. My carriage is at your disposal.”

With a smile, I joined him. We rode off to meet the mortician. Once again, the poor victim had been found naked in the sewers. Only, this time I recognized her. I had seen her the night before. I may have been well intoxicated, but I knew I had seen her there. As a smile crossed my face, poor Takashi and the mortician must have thought that I had gone mad. Laughter began to roll from my lips. I clapped my hands and ran off down the street. Takashi was quick to follow.

“Harrison,” he called after me. His nicer shoes and suit made it difficult for him to catch up to me. I admit, I partially enjoyed it. It was like being a young boy in a school yard again. Once he did catch up to me, he grabbed my shoulders and shook me.

“Did you indulge that much that you have lost yourself?”

I backed away from him, a smile still on my face. “No, my friend. I knew her. I saw her. Even more, I saw him. The man she left with. We have him.” I patted him on the cheek, “My friend, you will have your justice.”

Only justice wasn’t easy to obtain. We found the murderer, Victor Pell. He was the second son of an industrialist. While I was able to arrest him on the charges, his father was quick to protect his son. The smile that boy gave as he looked at me from the stand made me want to jump over the rail and punch him in his perfect teeth. Even that would have been merciful.

Within the week, he was free. I looked at the family of the third victim, the mortician, and my dear friend, as Victor walked, nay, skipped, out of the courthouse.

“Too bad for you,” he sneered, as he passed me. “Maybe next time, you will have a bit more evidence.”

The sky darkened out of nowhere and the rain came down to cleanse the earth, starting first as a trickle and ending in a deluge. It was as if the heavens themselves wept over the injustice. I allowed the water to cover me, to cleanse me. Never before had I wanted to kill a man so badly. It was un-Christian of me to think such things. In that moment, I didn’t care.

I found myself in the shadow of the rain. A sheet of it encircled me. I looked to my side to see Takashi standing next to me, his free hand in a tight fist.

“When is it enough for them?” he asked, more to the sky than to me. “You promised me justice.”

“I did. My apologies.” I looked down to the rain soaked dirt. “I have no excuse.”

For a while, we did not speak. It was more due to my wounded pride than his anger. In the following weeks, three more women showed up dead. We all knew who did it, but we couldn’t stop him. The deaths felt like taunts.

On the night that a seventh victim was found, Takashi came storming into the morgue, rage fuming from him. He half-scared the poor mortician into his own grave.

“Harrison,” he called out to me, his voice once again echoing through the halls. Part of me wanted to hide. Yet, there I found myself in the main room. “I grow tired of your government’s justice. One victim was too many, now he has claimed seven. Still, the courts do nothing!”

The mortician looked on at Takashi. The poor man was showing his advanced years more than ever before. With a sigh, the mortician nodded, “You are correct. They won’t do anything. Mr. Pell is under the protection of the greater government. At worst, he will be deported.”

Takashi’s face contorted into one of disgust and loathing. “Then I suppose I will take these matters into my own hands.”

“I would not,” I began before silencing myself.

“Do you plan on stopping me?” he asked me. His eyes dared me to speak against him.

I was conflicted in my answer. While I had to admit that I wanted to help him, I also didn’t want him, or myself, to be caught. The punishment for taking the law into our own hands would be severe.

“I will not stop you,” I finally said, “but, let us be careful about how we go about this.”

“You will join me?” he asked surprised.

I shook my head, “I cannot join you in this. I can only advise you. Remain unseen. While I would like to, I . . . ”

“Hmm,” the mortician grumbled and groaned at himself, “you know I have a lot of work to do here. I need two strong and able-bodied men to help me with my increased workload. I am getting old after all. It . . . it might take all night.” He wandered off into the next room, from which we could hear him finish, “It is such a bloody job, too. It might stain your clothes.”

Takashi and I looked at each other. “Shall we volunteer?” I asked.

“It would only be right,” Takashi responded.

We followed the mortician and helped him until the sun had set and we had the cover of darkness. It took little time to locate Victor. He was by one of the many dens, speaking with another young woman.

In the shadows of an alley, we waited. They started to move down the street together. As they went, it became increasingly more difficult to keep up with them while remaining in the shadows. To our luck, one of the buildings was being worked on. We scaled the scaffolding. We were forced to remain crouched down, as to not be seen or to make excessive noise, as we continued to pursue him.

The young woman who accompanied Victor became upset with him. As she turned to leave, he grabbed at her wrist and yanked her so hard that she stumbled back into him. Holding her face tightly in his hand, he smiled down at her. A whistle from a nearby patrol caused him to release the girl. She took the chance to run. As the group of police ran past Victor and down the street, he turned back to his victim. A light, playful laugh escaped him as he started to chase her.

In that moment, Takashi reacted. Jumping from the roof on which we were perched, he landed on top of Victor, knocking him to the cobbled street. I followed, only with less recklessness. Victor spat at Takashi and swore.

“You! How dare you!” His voice was more than enraged, it was almost as if he were some sort of demon. He shoved Takashi off him and continued his pursuit for the young woman.

The fall must have cause some damage to Victor’s leg. He was not as quick as he once was. Takashi took out his revolver and pointed it at Victor’s back. I stopped him and removed a knife from my breast pocket. In my youth, I was quite good at throwing knives. I must say, I was suddenly pleased with my unusual hobby. The knife landed in his right calf, causing Victor to lurch forward.

Like a mad dog, he continued after her, now hobbling. He was unable to remove the knife from his calf without losing her, so there it remained. Another knife landed in his other calf, putting him to the ground. There he crawled on the stone, trying to scurry away from those who pursued him with vengeance in their eyes. His fine clothes were now stained with the filth and pestilence of the street. No longer a prince of the industrial era, but a filthy rat that rubbed its belly with the streets.

Unable to move further, he turned on us. His gun shook as he pointed it at me. Takashi could only laugh.

“Get away,” Victor screamed, his voice cracking. “Get away from me.”

“Is that what she said as you killed her?” Takashi asked as he approached, his own gun in hand. “Did my sister beg for her life?”

“H-how would I know?” Victor stammered.

“How indeed.” Takashi shot at Victor’s hand, causing him to drop his gun. Victor cried out in pain. “Tell me, why? Why did you kill her?”

He looked away from us. In my frustration, I yelled at him, “Answer him, you filthy rat!”

“She wouldn’t kiss me,” Victor yelled back. “She was beautiful. Her raven colored hair was as pure as the night. She would smile at me. Talk with me. So, when I asked her for a simple kiss, I never expected her to turn away from me. So, I killed her. I stripped her down and had my way with her! I would do it again. That damn whore deserved it! How dare she turn me down! She had no right to lead me on like that. So, I took it . . . I took it all. The other girls were just for fun. Killing her was fun, so why not kill other girls who were like her. They would laugh and accept the tainted drinks so easily. But, refuse me when I would ask.”

Takashi’s entire body shook as he listened to the confession. After centering himself, he looked deeply into Victor’s eyes. “My sister was beautiful. She was kind, too.” He came in close to Victor, who was too wounded to move. “However,” Takashi whispered, “she was not a whore.”

In a moment, three bullets landed in Victor’s brain. The noise of the shots quickly brought attention from the surrounding streets. We fled back to the morgue, where we were greeted with a smile by the mortician.

The mortician was able to hold our innocence. The bullets magically disappeared, not even found by the mortician. The killings of the women stopped. No one thought anything of it. A few months passed and I found myself once again being called out to another murder of a young woman. This one was a bit different than the others.

My associate, Terrance, took care of the investigation. Only, once again the man walked free. After the trial, he came to my home.

“It is frustrating,” he said, “to work so hard to bring justice to the dead. Only . . . only to have it ripped away by a corrupt judge, or evidence that is considered insufficient.”

“It is,” I agreed.

“Why not change it then?” came Takashi’s voice from the door to my home office. “You will forgive me, my friend, for letting myself in.” I smiled, he never did knock. I was used to it. However, this was the first time he actually apologized for it.

I refuted his claim. “Change comes through long and difficult paths. The judges like their . . . arrangement.”

“I mean . . . ” Takashi fell silent. It was unusual for him. He was typically well spoken. “Harrison, I have come up with a new name.”

“Oh?” I was honestly curious. I had forgotten that he had mentioned his father was changing their name.

“Yes.” He came and sat down in the other chair. He smiled and nodded at Terrance before continuing, “I want you both to work for me on a new project. One that will transform our city. Let us help the judges see . . . if they will not be fair, then we will strike from the shadows, from above.”

“What do you mean?” Terrance asked the same question I was thinking.

“Demons of the sky. Well, for the evil of the world. We have a term for them, yatagarasu. They are a yokai.”

“Ya-ta-what?” Terrance was always a bit slow on cultural things.

Takashi sighed and shook his head. “In the West of America, they have specialized marshals that uphold the law. They go after bounties that the government can’t seem to get to. Why not do that here, only . . . if the government fails us. We will take the law where it needs to be.”

“Umm . . . ” Terrance stammered, “I think that is called murder.”

“It is,” I agreed. Yet I was intrigued and wanted to know more. “They wear fancy brown dusters,” I mused.

“That they do,” Takashi said with a smile.

“I don’t mean this as any offense,” Terrance piped in, “but you look better in black.”

Takashi laughed, “I do and it is more fitting for a three-legged crow.” He looked back at me, his smile holding on his face. “So, what do you say?”

“It won’t be easy,” I said, trying to be honest, “but, I like it. Will three of us be enough?”

“Four,” Takashi corrected, “I already spoke with George about it. He agreed to help keep us hidden. But the three of us will do the bulk of the work.”

“Who is George?” Terrance asked, not realizing that he had never heard the mortician’s name. We kept him in the dark for a while. Eventually the amusement wore off and we told him.

“And the name?” I asked.

Takashi leaned back in his chair, “I am going to write it in English. My father doesn’t want to be associated with our past. So, I feel it is best to respect that. I will be honest, my father inspired it.”

With the end of that meeting, began the long road of the newly formed syndicate. An organization that grew out of the darker parts of society. From the front, it was the remnants of the prosperous investment firm and industrial powerhouse owned by the former Shirakawa family. Underneath, they had a heavy hand in the illegal arms trade. Now, it also dealt in death.

I continued to work as an investigator, eventually reaching the top of my division. Terrance found himself sitting behind a governor’s desk. The people loved us. The name Yatagarasu never caught on, and I feel that was for the best. Instead, in some strange way, the children called us by a new, more fitting, name. They would chide the name as they danced freely in the streets, no longer afraid. Thus, was the birth of our legacy. The one I now pass on to you. Carry it with pride.

About the Author

Brittany Garvey is pursuing her B.A. in sociology and psychology at WSU. Writing was a personal escape, which eventually turned into a full-time passion, resulting in one completed manuscript and several short stories. This piece is her first published work and a prequel to her novel.