Until Your Dying Breath

The worst tragedy ever to hit Bagley County occurred in the town of Kernstock on June 30, 1929. Mr. and Mrs. Walter Mulder and their six children died in what appeared to be a farmhouse fire. It has been a tragic loss for the community, as their family was beloved by all in the town. May they all rest in peace together as a family.

-Joseph Trundle, Bagley Daily Papers, July 7, 1929

* * * *

Edmund Mulder sat alone in his study, reading this column in the Sunday paper over and over until he could nearly recite it himself from memory. He sipped from a glass of gin, poured from a stash he kept under the floorboard long before prohibition. People had called him an alcoholic, but he just drank to take off the edge he felt he was always balancing on. Sure, he knew he should be more careful - especially now. But it was too late for caution, so he sipped on.

The clock on the wall read 2:00am. If he went to bed now, it would still be the earliest he’s fallen asleep in weeks. He sighed, throwing back the rest of his gin. Just as he put out the lamp on his desk, the whole room lit up in blazing orange. He closed his eyes, trying to escape the heat he was suddenly imprisoned in. Stumbling for the door, he tripped over the edge of the desk. He coughed into his arm and began pulling desperately on the doorknob. Tears filled his eyes as if the room was really full of smoke - he knew it wasn’t. He collapsed to the floor and covered his ears as they flooded with the screams of his brother and his brother’s family.

* * * *

Sheriff Sam Murphy sat in bed with his wife, Elaine. It had been a long day in the office; the whole town was shaken up from the fire. It seemed no one could think about anything else.

“It’s just so tragic,” Mrs. Murphy said to her husband. “Something this horrible hasn’t happened around here for as long as I can remember.”

“I know, it’s awfully tragic,” her husband responded. He was familiar with the gory details of the whole ordeal. “But remember, it was an accident. A lamp fell onto their rug and what do ya know, they didn’t make it out. But darlin’, it’s all gonna be alright. At least we’re here and we have each other.”

This was the best he could think to say, but in reality, he was feeling just as unsettled as she was. Breaking the news to poor Walter’s brother, Edmund, was the hardest thing thus far. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the look on Edmund’s face. He was as pale as a ghost and was only able to stammer out a few words of disbelief before disappearing into his home without even closing the door.

Mr. and Mrs. Murphy both settled in for bed. Sam’s dreams the last few nights had been taken over by scenes of the Mulder family being consumed in flames, with no help arriving until it was too late. He laid awake, staring at the ceiling. Just as his eyes were finally beginning to close, he heard a slight creak from the corner of the bedroom near the door. His eyes opened wide and his fingers twitched, ready to reach for the gun in his nightstand. He glanced over to the corner, seeing nothing, and then sat up for a better look. He squinted his eyes - the door was still closed and no one was there. He laid back, and as soon as his head hit the pillow, a shadow fell over him and his entire body froze. All of his muscles stopped working. He couldn’t even let out a sound. Before his eyes was Walter Mulder, towering over his bed. Am I asleep? He wondered. This is another one of those dreams, he thought, despite the thick fear spreading slowly through his chest.

“Wait…” The word came out of Walter Mulder’s mouth, just as Sheriff Murphy noticed the blood trickling from his chest. He wanted to cry out, but his voice was caught in his throat. In an instant, Walter’s body erupted into flames.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Walter screamed. A cold chill ran through Sam’s body despite the scorching flames hanging over his bed.

* * * *

“We are here today to mourn a great loss in our town. God called an entire family home, and while their friends and family tarry in this mortal world, grieving them, they are surely at peace in heaven with our Lord.”

Edmund listened to the Pastor’s words, consumed in his thoughts as he stared at the row of graves before him. There wasn’t a dry eye amidst the whole crowd besides his; he just felt empty. Numb. Each casket that was lowered felt like a gunshot to his chest, especially those of the children. Edmund’s wife, Rebecca, wasn’t able to conceive. All she wanted was everything Walter’s family had - they had success, land, many children, and they were well-to-do people. She wanted it more than anything. Of course, now they were gone.

Standing here with this feeling, he almost wished it was him being buried. Even that wouldn’t bring me the peace Pastor Brown is describing, he thought. It’s too late for any of that, at least for me. The Pastor’s voice got quieter and quieter in his head as his mind travelled further away. His posture slumped as he stared out at the lake bordering the cemetery. Across the lake he could see the remains of Walter’s house between the dead trees. The lake had been so close by, full of cold water, and yet no one made it out of the fire to run to it.

“Help!”

His head jolted up as he heard the childish cry, but everyone from the service had disappeared. Instead, over each of the graves stood Walter, Helen, and their kids - all staring back at him. Their faces were frozen in sheer terror and their clothes were covered in ash. Walter and Helen’s faces held horrified and ghastly expressions, drained of all hope. The children’s eyes were wide, piercing and pleading. Edmund stood rigid, afraid to move. His eyes focused again on Walter and Helen - their chests were both drenched in blood.

“Edmund, what on earth is wrong with you?” Rebecca’s sharp tone drew him back to the funeral. He looked around, but the ghosts of his brother’s family were gone.

He took a deep breath. “What is it?”

“You don’t look like a mourning man, sweetheart,” she said, her voice gentler now. “You look as though you might vomit or faint. We are here to mourn, and, need I remind you, so is the whole town.”

His eyes met hers and he paused there for a moment. Taking a gulp, he mumbled, “I’m afraid to say I am feeling rather lousy, and I may go sit down for a moment.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. She only pulled out her handkerchief and held it to her face, turning back toward the graves.

* * * *

“Mornin’ Sheriff Murphy.”

“Good morning to you, John,” the sheriff responded. “What brings you here today?”

John Wakely was a highly respected and well-known lawyer in Kernstock. “I was wondering if I could take a moment of your time - in your office?”

“Sure thing,” Sam said. “Come on back.”

The two gentlemen sat across the sheriff’s desk. “What brings you in today, John?” Sam asked.

“I hope I’m not overstepping here, but I wanted to talk to you about the Mulder fire.”

Sam sighed. “Quite awful, isn’t it?”

“Truly awful,” John commented. “And I didn’t feel inclined to mention this before, but lately I’ve been thinking you ought to know. A week before the fire I was in the general store, run by Edmund Mulder, as you know. I was standing in the corner of the store when I heard the brothers quarreling.”

“Edmund and Walter?” Sheriff Murphy asked.

“Yes sir. They were in the back room I believe. I couldn’t make out everything they were saying, but it sounded tense. I think it was something about money and the farm. All I know for sure is that Edmund seemed quite aggravated.”

“What're you trying to say?” the sheriff leaned forward. “You reckon Walter’s family was bumped off? By his own brother?”

“It may sound a little far out, but I saw Edmund at the funeral, and he didn’t look quite like a man mourning. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. I don’t mean to throw around accusations, I just thought I’d let you know about the argument and ask if you had considered the possibility of foul play.”

Sam sat with his thoughts for a moment, muscles tense. “I did consider it - that’s my job. But the fire seemed like an obvious accident. However, I wasn’t aware of this… situation between the brothers. Thanks for coming down here to let me know.”

* * * *

Rebecca walked into Edmund’s study, closing the door behind her and crossing her arms. She hesitated before asking, “What did the sheriff have to say?”

Edmund was standing behind his desk, grasping the top of the chair. “He said they’re going to be exhuming the bodies of Walter and Helen.”

“What in heaven’s name makes him think he can -”

“They found pistol shells in the remains of the house. They went back and combed through it.”

“I can’t believe -”

“And they searched the lake and found a discarded pistol.”

She paused. “Can’t you tell him not to dig up the bodies? Surely you have some say in that - they’re your family!”

“Exactly, Rebecca! They were my family! And evidence was found that indicates they were murdered. I couldn’t tell him not to. They’re investigating the gun as well and they’re planning to make a pinch soon.” He sat in the chair and put his head in his hands, tugging at his hair.

“Edmund, you need to pull it together.” Her sharp tone had returned. She walked over to him and leaned in close to his face. “That ritzy lawyer is coming by soon to talk to us about Walter’s will and his land. You need to stop feeling so sorry for yourself. You’re walking around like a broken sap, and it’s burning me up. The lawyer will be here in an hour, so go make yourself presentable and act respectable.”

“What if I’m arrested? What do we do then?”

She was already heading towards the door, but she spun around to face him. “Then you will plead innocent!” she yelled, causing him to flinch. “We have a reputation to uphold. But Edmund… ” Her voice faltered slightly. “I can’t handle this falling back on us. You have to promise me you’ll claim innocence, even until your dying breath.”

* * * *

Sheriff Murphy and Dr. Ellsworth stood over the covered exhumed bodies of Walter and Helen Mulder. “What’d you find, Doctor?”

“Well, I’m sorry to say that your theory seems to be correct. Both Walter and Helen were shot - several times actually. We ran X-rays for each of them, which wasn’t done before they were buried due to the fire. But clearly the fire was just a cover-up. I reckon that gun you found in the lake is the real cause of death.”

Sam held back a shudder. “Well, that’s quite the caper isn’t it. Smoking the innocent kids too, just to cover up the murder of their poor parents.” Both men stood, looking silently at the pale sheets covering the victims. “I’ll need that paperwork. Getting the arrest warrant will be a doozy now; you did good work here.”

The doctor left to get the records. The sheriff stood alone, staring at the floor to avoid looking at the bodies on the cots. He heard a sound and looked up, almost expecting to see the doctor already, but he knew it was too soon for that. The noise was coming from under the sheet - it was crying. It’s in my head, he thought. Just like those dreams, I’m feeling guilty because I couldn’t rescue them. That’s all. But the crying continued, and it was getting louder. He turned to the cots, taking a cautious step closer. The sobs began to flood his ears and drown out the rest of the room. He reached for the cloth, and by the time he could almost feel it, the cries were turning to screams. Despite an instinct in his gut telling him not to, he carefully pinched the cloth and pulled it down. There was Helen, her face twisted and frozen into a horrified scream, tears staining her face. Her eyes were glassy and glued to the ceiling. A reflection of flames glimmered in her eyes. He continued to pull the sheet down and was shocked to find her still fully clothed, bathed in blood. When he looked back to her eyes, they immediately snapped to meet his own. He jumped back as her body wrenched forward.

“MY CHILDREN!” she shrieked.

Sam’s knees buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor, covering his ears. Suddenly everything went silent. He looked up slowly to see Helen’s body perfectly covered with the sheet, the room back to normal. Just as he was standing back up, the doctor re-entered the room.

“Everything okay there, Sheriff?”

He straightened out his belt and cleared his throat. “Yes, of course.” He took the folder from Dr. Ellsworth and tucked it under his arm. As they headed for the door, the sheriff spoke again. “Doctor, might I ask you an odd question?”

“Ask away,” he responded.

“Do you believe in any of that, you know, ghost hokum?”

“Not particularly,” Dr. Ellsworth expressed. “I believe that spirits exist separate from this world once they’ve passed on. Do you think...?”

“No, nothing like that,” the sheriff said. “It was a silly question.”

* * * *

The arrest of Edmund Mulder left the town in an uproar. At first his neighbors didn’t believe he’d done it - then again, he stood to inherit his brother’s fortune and land, especially with the children gone too. Edmund had been seen with the gun that was found, and then of course there was the quarrel in the general store. Weeks had passed since the initial arrest, and he had already paid thousands of dollars in bail and bonds, so the inheritance from Walter mattered less and less. He and his wife both hardly left their house anymore.

Edmund sat in his study, alone again with his last bottle of gin empty beside him. Nearly three months had passed since the fire, and his trial was set for the following day. The evidence against him was damning and everyone was convinced of his guilt. Surely the whole courtroom would be convinced of it too. He thought of Rebecca - she’d been consumed with depression for weeks with all the town chatter.

Edmund began to sob. He slid off of his chair and collapsed to the floor, hoping to sink through the wood below him and disappear. Sweat dripped from his forehead. Suddenly he heard his brother’s voice in his head.

“Edmund, wait, what are you doing?!”

Those had been Walter’s last words. They played on a loop in his mind, jumbled with Helen’s screams. He began to hear the gas pouring, the match striking, the lamp shattering.

“Edmund, wait, what are you doing?!”

“I’m sorry,” Edmund sobbed. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry. Make it stop!”

He looked up from the floor to see his brother standing there, blood dripping onto the wood floor. Standing close behind him was Helen, tears streaming down her face. Both of their expressions were frozen; the betrayal in their eyes pierced his soul.

“Please, forgive me.”

He stood up and noticed the kids - those poor young children - all standing behind their parents, pale white and covered in ash. He felt all their eyes on him, and he knew it didn’t matter if they were really standing there. It wouldn’t even matter if they rose from the grave and said they forgave him somehow. He couldn’t forgive himself. The depth of his guilt had been consuming him ever since that fateful night, eating at him more and more with each passing day.

He looked to the wall on the right where his shotgun was hanging. He looked back at his brother’s family once more before reaching for the gun.

* * * *

Incident Report of Sheriff Samuel Murphy

In regards to the body of Edmund Mulder, found in his home.

On September 27th, 1929, Edmund Mulder was found dead. Cause of death was a wound from his own shotgun. No evidence of forced entry, gunpowder was found on his hands. Concluded suicide. He left a note claiming innocence in the matter of the deaths of his brother, Walter Mulder, and his wife and 6 children.

* * * *

In The District Court of Bagley County

The State of Iowa

vs.

Edmund Mulder

MOTION TO DISMISS

The State of Iowa, plaintiff in the above, moves and asks the court for an order dismissing the said case with prejudice for the reason that the defendant Edmund Mulder is now dead.