A subsequent entry in Fletcher's journal adds, "Mr. Collins has consulted me regarding certain stains found beneath the recently removed floorboards in the basement. I have advised him that the discoloration is likely due to mineral deposits from the proximity to the river." This explanation appeared to satisfy him, though I am not convinced of its accuracy. Some questions are better left unasked in a small community such as ours.
Most revealing is an entry dated December 1896, apparently written after Fletcher had consumed what he described as perhaps more brandy than is advisable for a man of my years. The more I reflect upon what I observed in the Blackwood basement, the more disturbed I become.
The configuration of equipment suggests a purpose I dare not name. The drainage system, the hooks, the table with its channels and collection basin all suggest activities that civilized minds refuse to contemplate. And yet I cannot dismiss the correlation between guests who were never seen to depart and the exceptional meals for which the establishment was known. God forgive me for even entertaining such thoughts. This discovery prompted Whitaker to contact descendants of Harper's Ferry residents from the period.
Through these interviews, he began to construct a timeline of disappearances that correlated with certain entries in the Blackwood House guest register. Each missing person had been recorded as having paid their bill and departed, always within three days of arrival, always after having taken dinner with the sisters. Whitaker's investigation took an unexpected turn when he managed to locate Martha Simmons, whose grandmother had worked as a laundress for the Blackwood House. In an interview conducted in 1961, Simmons recalled conversations with her grandmother. She wouldn't talk about it much, but sometimes after a few glasses of blackberry wine, she'd say things that didn't make sense to me as a child.
About how she wasn't allowed in the basement after certain guests had checked out. About stains on linens that Miss Eleanor insisted on washing herself. About smelling something like a butcher's shop coming from the kitchen when she arrived early one morning, though Miss Ruth claimed to be preparing a special breakfast. Most disturbing was Simmons's recollection of something her grandmother had witnessed in the summer of 1896. Grandmother said she came to work earlier than usual one day and saw Miss Ruth in the garden behind the house.
Said she was burying something wrapped in cloth. When grandmother approached, Miss Ruth straightened up quick and said she was just planting new herbs for the kitchen. But grandmother said there was a smell and the cloth was stained dark. Miss Ruth gave her an extra dollar that week and told her not to come so early again. Simmons also shared a story her grandmother had told only once on her deathbed in 1932.
Grandmother said that once when cleaning the dining room after a special dinner party, she found what looked like a small bone under the table. Not like chicken or beef, more like a finger joint. She said when she showed it to Miss Eleanor, thinking it might be important, Miss Eleanor took it quickly and said it was just part of the special roast. Then Miss Ruth came in from the kitchen and whispered something to Miss Eleanor. They both looked at Grandmother in a way that frightened her badly.
She said Miss Ruth told her, "Some secrets are best kept by those who wish to keep breathing." Grandmother never spoke of it again until she was dying and felt she needed to unburden her soul. Whitaker's research traced a possible connection to three women who established a small restaurant in Allentown, Pennsylvania in 1897 under the name Shepherd Sisters. The establishment operated for approximately two years before closing abruptly following the unexplained death of a patron who, according to local newspaper accounts, took ill suddenly after dining alone at the establishment. The Allentown city directory from 1897 lists the proprietors of the Shepherd Table as Mary, Elizabeth, and Caroline Shepherd. While the image is not clear enough for positive identification, Whitaker noted in his research journal, the resemblance is striking, particularly in the case of the youngest, who has the same distinctive gaze described by multiple Harper's Ferry residents when speaking of Ruth Blackwood.
A review of the Shepherd Table published in the Allentown Morning Call in December 1897 provides an eerie echo of descriptions of the Blackwood House. The establishment offers cuisine of remarkable quality, particularly the roasted meats, which achieve a tenderness and flavor that larger restaurants cannot match. A photograph in a local business association publication shows three women whose approximate ages align with what the Blackwood sisters would have been at that time. The three sisters who operate the establishment maintain an atmosphere of refined dignity, though some might find the youngest sister's intense observation of diners somewhat disconcerting. Gentlemen dining alone are treated with particular attention and are often invited to sample special dishes not listed on the regular menu.
The death that precipitated the restaurant's closure occurred in March 1899. According to police reports uncovered by Whitaker, a businessman named George Harrington was found dead in his hotel room the morning after dining at the Shepherd Table. The coroner's report listed the cause as acute gastric distress of unknown origin, though a note in the medical examiner's personal papers suggested possible poisoning cannot be ruled out, though no known toxin presents this particular pattern of symptoms. By the time authorities sought to question the Shepherd sisters about Harrington's last meal, they had already closed their restaurant and departed Allentown. A brief notice in the newspaper mentioned only that they had relocated to pursue opportunities elsewhere.
No forwarding address was provided. From Allentown, Whitaker followed a trail that led to similar establishments in multiple locations. A boarding house in Rochester, New York, 1900–1902. A small hotel in Cleveland, Ohio, 1903–1905. And a restaurant in Chicago 1906–1908.
In each location, the pattern was consistent. Three women operating an establishment known for exceptional meals, followed by unexplained disappearances of male patrons, and then sudden closure and relocation. The Chicago Connection proved particularly fruitful for Whitaker's research. City directories listed a restaurant called The Sisters Table, operating on the Near North Side from 1906 to 1908. The establishment was owned by three women who identified themselves as the Shepherd sisters, Mary, Elizabeth, and Caroline, whose ages approximately matched those of the Blackwood sisters if they had assumed new identities.
A review in the Chicago Tribune from December 1906 praised the restaurant's exceptional cuisine, particularly the house specialties of roasts and stews, which the youngest sister reportedly prepares according to old family recipes. The tenderness of the meat is remarkable, achieving a quality that few professional establishments can match. More telling was an interview with a former waiter at the Sisters' Table conducted by Whitaker in 1962. The man, then in his 70s, recalled, "The place was unusual, not like other restaurants where I'd worked. The sisters kept to themselves.
The kitchen was strictly off limits to staff except for the one bus boy they allowed to help with heavy lifting. They had a special room in the back that was always locked. Once a week, usually late Tuesday nights, deliveries would arrive. large iceboxes that the youngest sister would inspect carefully before they were taken to that back room. The waiter continued. There was a private dining room where special guests ate by invitation only, always men dining alone, usually well-dressed businessmen or travelers.