Sherlock Holmes Murder Most Foul (16 page)

Holmes raises a disapproving eyebrow, “You are mistaken, sir. You tried to interview me, but I declined the offer.” He jerks his arm away, “I dislike your impertinence now as I did then.”

Guided by Chandler, Holmes steps from the pavement through the grimy door. Entering the gloomy passageway, he pauses and sniffs the air,
[168]
“Rancid meat.”

Admiring Holmes’awarenes
s
,
Chandler smiles and indicates a right-hand door, “A cat’s meat shop, Mr Holmes.”

Holmes ruminates, “Ah, yes, the idiosyncrasy of the English. Even in poverty, they steadfastly feed their pets before themselves.”

Chandler points past the staircase to the back door, “Straight ahead, Mr Holmes.”

Holmes contemplates the staircase, “How many people live up there?”

Chandler scratches the side of his face, “Fifteen, not counting Mrs Hardiman who lodges down here in the cat’s meat shop with her son.”

Holmes frowns, “Discounting the kitchen, this house must have only seven rooms, and seventeen people reside here?”

Chandler nods, “Packed like herrings in a barrel, Mr Holmes.”

Holmes smiles, “Your colourful metaphor is most apt.”

Pushing open the back door and nearly striking a kneeling Dr George Bagster Phillips on the left shoulder with its lower corner, Holmes is approached by Lestrade as Bagster Phillips studiously continues his examination of the corpse.

Surprised at not seeing Watson with Holmes, Lestrade enquires, “Where’s Dr…?”

Quickly emerging from behind Lestrade, Inspector Fell glares at Holmes, “Who invited you here?”

Irritated by his tone of voice, Lestrade turns to Fell, “I invited Mr Holmes. He’s assigned to this case.”

Fell haughtily sneers at Lestrade, “I should have been informed. Why wasn’t I told?”

Lestrade scornfully snaps, “Would you like me to summon the Chief Commissioner to notify you? I believe he’s seeing the Home Secretary this morning.”

Fell fumes, “H Division is my patch, Lestrade, not yours.”

Holmes walks down the three stone steps into the yard, “My congratulations, Inspector Fell. It seems that the murderer has favoured you yet again. Perhaps he knew that your incompetence would dispose of any crucial evidence he may have left behind.”

Again, Fell glares at Holmes, “How can you be sure that it’s the same man?”

Holmes stares intently at him, “Foolishness will not confirm the fact either way. Will it, Inspector?”

Exasperated by the bickering, Dr Bagster Phillips rises from the corpse and turns to Lestrade and Fell, “Gentlemen, this will not do. I insist that the body be taken to the mortuary at once.”

Feeling harassed and pointing to the prying faces of onlookers peering over the fence into the backyard, Lestrade growls at Fell, “Look, Inspector, you either clear this yard and get those people away from that fence, or the Chief Commissioner will want to know from Superintendent Arnold later today why a particular individual of H Division obstructed a murder inquiry.”

Fell grimaces, “Are you threatening me, Lestrade?”

Holmes interjects, “On the contrary, Inspector. Lestrade is trying to alert you. Sir Charles Warren is not a man to be provoked.”

Immediately concerned with his own survival, Fell hurriedly turns to five police constables lingering in the backyard and barks, “You all heard the Inspector. Everyone out! And get those people away from the fence. I want the entire area cleared.”

Hastily filing past Chandler standing in the doorway, the police constables depart the yard.

Stepping past Holmes, Fell scowls, “Tread carefully, Mr Holmes.”

Politely tipping his head, Holmes replies, “Fear not, Inspector, I intend to.”

Seeing Fell leave the yard, Lestrade looks at Chandler and growls, “Stay there! And let neither hide nor hair past you.”

Acknowledging the instruction, Chandler silently nods.

Indicating Holmes to Bagster Phillips, Lestrade addresses the doctor, “This is Mr Sherlock Holmes, Dr Phillips. I’d like him to see the body.”

Bagster Phillips respectively tips his head to Holmes, “A pleasure, Mr Holmes. But I warn you, prepare yourself.”

Moving aside, he reveals the corpse.

Staring at the body, Holmes stiffens.

Lying on her back, in the recess between the stone steps and the paling fence, with her long black coat, brown bodice and black skirt soaked in blood, is the body of the murdered woman. Positioned close to the rear of the house, her head is turned to the right, with tongue protruding from the mouth of her swollen face. Her parted legs, clothed in red and white striped woollen stockings, are drawn up, but both feet rest upon the ground and point straight towards the woodshed at the end of the backyard.

There is a pronounced bruise on her right temple, another on her upper eyelid, another on her cheek and yet another two inches below the lobe of her left ear. Next to this bruise are three distinct scratches that run in the opposite direction to the deep incision of the throat, which encircles her entire neck down to the vertebrae.

Bent and bloodied at the elbow, her left arm lays across her left breast, whilst her right arm remains straight at her side.

Her abdomen is entirely laid open. The intestines, severed from their mesenteric attachments, are on the ground above her right shoulder, and just above her left shoulder lays a portion of the stomach.

Lestrade edges closer to Holmes, “She was found here some three hours ago. I didn’t want her moved until you’d seen her, Mr Holmes.”

Holmes glances at Lestrade, “By whom?”

Lestrade strokes his moustache, “A carman by the name of John Davies.” He indicates the top of the house, “He lives up there on the third floor with his wife and three sons.”

Holmes stares enquiringly at Lestrade, “Now, Lestrade, this is extremely important. Has the woman been identified yet?”

Lestrade nods, “Some fifteen minutes ago. A woman friend of hers. Said her name’s Annie Chapman.”

Fleetingly registering disappointment, Holmes ponders.

Noticing his expression, Lestrade queries, “Why should her name be of any significance, Mr Holmes?”

Ignoring the question, Holmes crouches and thoughtfully gazes at a piece of muslin, a small tooth comb and a pocket comb arranged neatly upon the ground by the feet of the body.

Squatting beside Holmes, Lestrade stares at the items, “He’s a queer one, Mr Holmes. First he makes a right bloody mess of her, then he goes and does this, all neat and tidy, like.”

Pensively, Holmes murmurs, “The murderer taunts us, Lestrade.”

Lestrade muses, “Something like a cryptic message, is it?”

Holmes jovially claps his hands together, “Lestrade, you exceed yourself. Take the first letter of each item and what does it give you?”

Lestrade sighs wearily,
[169]
“A slip of the tongue, Mr Holmes. I was merely jesting.”

Holmes is persistent, “Oh, come, come, Lestrade. I know my methods can appear somewhat unorthodox at times. But the first letter of each item, please.”

Lestrade reluctantly relents and, feeling utterly foolish, stammers, “M, material. C, comb. C, comb.”

Holmes smiles, “Excellent, Lestrade. However…” He fingers the piece of muslin, “The material is coarse.”

Lestrade blurts, “Another C?”

Holmes nods, “Yes, Lestrade. Now, say the first three letters.”

Lestrade sighs, “Ah, come, Mr Holmes. He’s not that clever?”

Holmes sternly replies, “Oh, yes, he is, Lestrade. He is very clever. Now please indulge me. The first three letters, if you will?”

Again, Lestrade relents and mutters, “See, see, see.”

Holmes is jubilant, “Or, look, look, look.”

Lestrade shakes his head, “And what are we supposed to be looking for?”

Holmes cheekily retorts, “Why, his name, of course.”

Lestrade indicates the corpse, “Amongst this?”

Holmes raises a bemused eyebrow, “Where else?”

Bagster Phillips crouches and looks at Holmes admiringly, “Your methods are quite intriguing, Mr Holmes. How may I assist you?”

Carefully lifting the left hand of the body, Holmes points to an abrasion on the knuckle of the third finger, “A ring, or rings, have been wrenched from this finger.”

Bagster Phillips nods in agreement, “The abrasion over the head of the proximal phalanx would indicate so, Mr Holmes.”

Holmes lowers the hand, “Brass rings, if I am not mistaken.”

Lestrade chuckles mockingly, “Another little supposition of yours, Mr Holmes?”

Irked by the remark, Holmes snaps, “You see all, yet you observe nothing, Lestrade. Impoverished people cannot afford to purchase gold or silver, only brass. Whoever took the rings from this poor woman is of the same class. A person who deems brass valuable. Why else take it?”

Scolded, Lestrade points to the three items on the ground, “I thought you said he was clever?”

Holmes nods, “He is, but whoever took the rings from the finger is not.”

Lestrade blanches, “Good Lord, Mr Holmes, do you know what you’re saying?”

Astonished, Bagster Phillips queries, “Two people committed this murder?”

Holmes nods again, “The murderer had an accomplice.” He points to the three scratches below the lobe of the left ear, “What do you think caused these scratches, Dr Phillips?”

Bagster Phillips leans closer, “Fingernail scratches. I believe the murderer placed his left hand over her mouth, sinking his fingernails into her skin. Then, with his right hand, he strangled her.”

Holmes indicates the tongue protruding from the mouth, “I agree with your prognosis, Dr Phillips. The thickening of the tongue supports the case for suffocation.” He gazes at the blood smeared swollen face, “And then she struck the fence before she fell?”

Bagster Phillips straightens his back, “Or she was laid down. The murderer pushed her chin up with the palm of his left hand and then cut her throat once from left to right. Carrying on round the entire neck, he sliced through the muscles to the vertebrae and almost severed her head.”

Lestrade interjects, “What type of knife might have been used?”

Bagster Phillips contemplates the question, “A narrow-bladed knife, such as a slaughterman might use.”

Lestrade pursues the question, “A surgical knife, perhaps?”

Bagster Phillips musingly strokes his grey beard with finger and thumb, “A post mortem knife would have been sharp enough to remove her organs.”

Holmes attentively pricks up his ears, “Do you mean removed from the body, or taken from this yard?”

Bagster Phillips stands and rubs his aching knees, “I believe, Mr Holmes, that an autopsy will confirm the majority of her pelvic organs are missing.”

Shocked, Lestrade stands bolt upright, “My God! What manner of man are we looking for, Mr Holmes?”

Holmes raises a censorious eyebrow, “God has nothing to do with this, Lestrade. Divine intervention, as conceived by mankind, does not exist and therefore cannot solve this case. Only an entire analysis of the facts will.” Carefully slipping his hand beneath the blood-matted hair of the woman’s head and touching something, he exclaims, “Ah, ah!” Removing the torn corner of an envelope, he stands, shakes a few pills from it and gives them to Bagster Phillips, “Common medication, Dr Phillips?”

Bagster Phillips inspects the pills, “They are consumption opiates which can ease coughing. In life, she must have suffered from an infection of the lungs.”

With an enquiring expression, Lestrade turns to Bagster Phillips, “She was dying before she was murdered?”

Bagster Phillips nods in agreement.

Turning over the piece of envelope, Holmes stares at a large capital
W
, scrawled in red crayon upon its surface. Immediately reminded of his missing friend and associate, Holmes murmurs, “Watson.”

Lestrade frowns, “I beg your pardon, Mr Holmes?”

Rotating the scrap of paper, Holmes reveals a large capital
M
to Lestrade.

Lestrade gawks, “The murderer’s initial? You’re right, Mr Holmes. He’s mocking us.”

Holmes concurs, “M might be the first initial of his surname, or he could be telling us that he committed the previous two murders as well. Bragging, if you like.”

Lestrade frowns again,
[170]
“You’ve lost me, Mr Holmes.”

Holmes hands the piece of envelope to Lestrade, “In addition to the fact that all three women were throttled, what other curious similarity connects Martha Tabram, Mary Ann Nichols and Annie Chapman together?”

Intently staring at the initial again, Lestrade mutters, “M, Martha. M, Mary.” He hesitates and then suddenly blurts, “Good Lord, Mr Holmes, he christened Annie Chapman M.”

Holmes tersely raises his finger, “Similarity reveals familiarity. The murderer, or accomplice, knew the deceased. Only by knowing her in the first place could they amend her name.”

Bagster Phillips politely interrupts, “If you are finished, Inspector, I suggest that we have the body moved to the mortuary.”