Baseball Bat
BASEBALL BAT (See also, BLUNT FORCE, TOOLS) Prior to the standardization of their dimensions, baseball bats were handmade for their wielder. It is rudimentary as a weapon, but effective enough that records of using them to bludgeon a human skull pre-date the word baseball.
_Single loose sheet, 11 x 16 _
New Orleans Sheriff Department, November 22,1893
SHERIFF KILLER STILL AT LARGE
DEAD OR ALIVE
$1,500 REWARD
Generous rewards shall be paid to any that provide information or assistance in the apprehension of Gareth Sherringham, notorious murderer of Sheriff Weathers and six further civilians. Any who withhold information, harbor this known criminal, or in any way shield him from the law will face punishment of DEATH. Let the divine arm of the law demonstrate that it extends from the throne of the Almighty Lord, and let those who stand in its way see Salt and Sulfur
WAYNE HARDIN, Acting Sheriff of New Orleans
DESCRIPTION. -- Sherringham is 5 feet 1 inch short. Bald, with a grey, unkempt, sorry excuse for a beard. Green eyes that do not stare straight when asked a question, instead staring at his own hooked nose. Surprisingly quick for such a round man. Carries a wooden baseball bat with which he slowly beats his victims to death.
750 dollars bounty if delivered alive for state execution, 500 dollars bounty if delivered dead, and 250 dollars for information that leads to his arrest. This totals to a 1,500 DOLLARS BOUNTY
_Journal of Gareth Sherringham
Single loose sheet, 6 x 8.25 _
December 17, 1893
Good things do not thrive in New Orleans. I thought being a deputy might help change that, and now I am hunted by the city. If I could I would blame these people, but Wayne has offered them enough to feed their families for a full year and I myself would take up arms for such a prize. Perhaps I could select a worthy candidate to surrender to. Tabitha could most certainly use the money, her lot in life is even less fortunate than my own.
Not that anyone reading this should believe the word of The Diamond Killer, but I have only killed three men in my life. Two were at the behest of the Sheriff himself and the third, well, the third was of my own volition, though naturally I would assert that the bastard deserved what I gave him. My sole mistake was lacking the control to wait until Wayne was over the hill.
I doubt I shall survive the year while Wayne haunts every tired step I take, resourceful and cunning as he is. One imagines he is the sheriff now. A stirring thought, that. At least he won't take it upon himself to murder the vagrants of this city, but then I didn't imagine Sheriff Weathers would either. Both are men who thrived in New Orleans.
As for myself? I am tired and have exhausted all recourse. Far be it from me to damn a friend to death for sparing some bread. They shall find my shriveled body in this swamp I imagine, but I take solace in knowing Sheriff Weathers won't be there to call my corpse a fat prick.
