“What was he wearing?” Val asked retrieving his notepad from his coat pocket.
“A simple suit. Grey in color. Wool in cloth.”
Val nodded. “Let’s see him.”
O’Brien pulled back the linen sheet from the dead man’s body and Val and Felix both gazed down at the face.
“Look familiar to you?” O’Brien asked.
Val looked at his sergeant and then back at O’Brien. “He sure does.”
✽✽✽
Outside a light rain had begun to fall and Val pulled his overcoat closed.
“So, who do you suppose killed the good doctor?” Felix wondered.
“I’m certain Odean Barton had no shortage of those who didn’t like him. Both here and in the states. But I find his death and his visit to the opium den last night too coincidental,” he said.
“Yes. That is too coincidental.”
“And now we have another body who, while not a victim of the primrose strangler, is known to one of the victims,” Val reasoned.
“It makes no sense,” Felix shook his head.
“Let’s visit the opium den,” Val said.
Chapter 13
Val knocked several times on the door to the mysterious building but no one answered.
“Maybe no one is in,” Felix said.
“They’re in.” Val looked about. “Always more than one entrance. Let’s look about.”
Moving to the alley, they circled the back of the building until they found a small door that, with enough force, could be opened.
“Well done, Felix.”
Felix smiled. “My pleasure.”
Entering the building, the first scent that Val smelled was the opium. It seemed to cling to the walls. Next, he noticed the cheap, red lanterns hanging everywhere, similar to the one that had been outside the night before.
He saw a small divan with a man lying face down in it snoring. In another room, a man was lying on the floor surrounded by pillows and a naked woman.
“Who runs this place?” He asked Felix.
“They must be around here somewhere,” Felix asked just as a small Asian man dressed in a long black tunic and trousers came forward. He was slight of stature and he bowed to them.
His English was broken. “How I help you?”
Val introduced themselves to the man and explained why they were there. “A man was found drowned in the Thames and he was last seen here at your establishment.”
“No drowning. Never had,” the man replied.
Felix sighed. “No. Listen to us. A man drowned. He was last seen here. We can describe him to you. We need you to tell us why he was here and who he might have been with.”
The man nodded at the words.
Felix proceeded to describe Odean Barton and the time he was at the opium den the previous night.
“He come alone. Stayed a while. Then left. Nothing more,” the man said.
“What did he do while here?” Val asked.
“Smoke the pipe. Enjoy the dream world,” he smiled showing his yellow teeth.
“What is your name?” Val asked.
“Cheng Sing.” He gave a little bow again.
Val sighed. “We are going to look around. We will need to talk to anyone who was here last night.”
The Asian man nodded in complete compliance but it proved disastrous. The Asians inside the den spoke very poor English or they were excellent actors. They didn’t give the detectives anything to work with and Val was extremely frustrated.
When they returned to the police station, it was late and Felix sat in the chair opposite from Val while he thought out loud.
“So Odean is helping Irene with her woman problems. Irene in the meantime is seeing Lyle Bowler and sitting for his sketching. Meanwhile there is another man that no one seems to know anything about whom Irene was seeing as well and might have been pregnant by this ghost.”
Felix nodded. “That about sums it up.”
“Odean is killed.” Val mused. “Why?”
“The mysterious man found out he was talking to us and killed him.”
“But Odean didn’t know anything.”
“He knew Irene was pregnant. He told her to talk to the man.”
“But the child could have been Bowler’s child. Even Odean might have been doing more than massaging her.“ Val said than shook his head. “No. Odean was charismatic but not a killer. I’m sure of it.”
“So, who killed him?”
“We need to find Lyle Bowler. He’s the key. He knows some of the missing pieces. He might even know who the mysterious man is.”
“It’s possible.”
“Let’s work on Bowler tomorrow. Simon Eastoft can help with the physical description and we can do a sketch of him and have some of the bobbies distribute them,” Val nodded.
✽✽✽
The appointed place was different. It was a dark pub near the docks. The salty sea air was thick and Mr. Sage and Mr. Cedar were the first to arrive.
“What happened?” Mr. Cedar asked.
“With what?” Mr. Sage returned.
“Don’t play games with me. You killed Mr. Cypress. Why? He didn’t know anything. He hadn’t even been initiated into the circle.” Mr. Cedar complained.
“He was piecing things together and he was talking to that damn detective,” Mr. Sage complained.
“Calm down,” Mr. Basil said entering the room. “No harm no foul. That doctor wasn’t pristine. He had issues. It doesn’t concern us.”
Mr. Willow entered the room and nodded to the other gentleman. “Mr. Cypress is no concern to us. He can’t be traced back here and his death can be blamed on a number of things. Maybe he drowned after having too many a pint.”
“Too many a pint? What shit is that?” Mr. Cedar said. “The last he was seen was in our company at the opium den. They questioned the Chinaman!”
“No one will tell him anything,” Mr. Sage said smugly. “Isn’t that why we pay that Chinaman so well? To keep our secrets?”
Mr. Willow nodded in agreement. “We go on as before. Mr. Cypress was weak. We saw that early on. He needed to be disposed of. We’ll say no more about it.”
✽✽✽
Val had a description of Lyle Bowler from his employer Simon Eastoft and he was able to have a basic sketch drawn up of him. With pressure from the Superintendent, he was able to speak to several detectives and constables to have them help circulate the picture. Val knew the detectives each had their own cases and he hesitated to add to their burden.
But the constables circulated the picture and they spoke to their network of informants and citizens who might know something. The average “bobby” patrolled the streets and made acquaintances with the people they were supposed to protect.
Val hoped that through their network of people someone might know something and put them on the right track to help them find Lyle Bowler.
In the meantime, he decided to do some more digging to try and see who exactly owned the building where the opium den was based. It could be that it was leased without the owner’s knowledge, or it could be that the owner knew exactly what was happening.
He recalled the estate agent who was working with Caroline Derry and he thought he would ask his help. He set out to pay a visit to the estate agent while Felix talked to the bobbies to see if they had luck with distributing the sketch of Lyle Bowler.
✽✽✽
“Mr. Davies?” Val said as he entered his office ushered in by a young clerk.
“I am. How can I help you? Mr. …”
“Inspector Pierce. With the Metropolitan police. I’m sorry to intrude. I believe we have an acquaintance in common.” Val began.
“Oh yes? Who might that be?” Peter Davies smiled.
“Miss Caroline Derry.”
Peter Davies nodded in acknowledgment. “So, we do. Please have a seat. Is this business? I understand the death of Irene, her sister, has been trying on the entire family. Though she and her father have only b
arely mentioned it to me. I did not know the young woman myself.”
Val shook his head. “It might or might not be related. Can you find out who owns a particular building? It’s for the investigation.”
“It shouldn’t be too difficult to retrieve the information. I keep copies of records from the court house so they are accurate and kept as up to date as they can be by my clerk,” Davies said smiling. “I only need the address to begin.”
Val wrote the address down and handed it to the man. “I understand Miss Derry has purchased the building for her housing project.”
Mr. Davies nodded calling for his clerk. He handed the address to his clerk to look up the information and then returned to his large walnut desk.
Val noticed that Peter Davies’ office was opulent and well decorated, meant to make a statement and proclaim to his would-be clients that he was successful at his work.
“Technically, her father Hubert Derry has purchased the property. As you know women cannot own property. But from what I am to understand she is to act as a manager of sorts and collect the rents and be a liaison to the tenants.”
“Commendable,” Val said smiling.
His clerk returned only to tell him that he would have to journey to the courthouse. The property had recently been sold and the new owner was not listed.
“Could I trouble you for—“ Val began.
“Not at all Inspector. I’ll send my clerk this afternoon. You can retrieve the information this afternoon, tomorrow morning or whenever suits,” Peter said.
“Thank you. I’m obliged for your help.”
Val returned to the police station and upon entering was immediately stopped by his sergeant.
“Guvnor.”
“Yes?”
“One of the constables thinks he saw our man Bowler staying at a rundown room in The Old Nichol.”
Val rubbed a hand across his forehead. “He would be there.”
“What do you want me to do?” Felix asked. “I can take a constable and go see if there’s anything to it.”
Val nodded. “Meanwhile I have someone pulling the paperwork on the opium den to see who owns the building. That might give us a lead. I’m going to head to the Doctor’s office to go through the files. I have an idea.”
Felix nodded and they separated. Val walked into his office and pulled out the four pictures of the women and looked at each one closely. Effie Whitson, Bessie Turner, Aida Harris and Irene Derry. All women from good families and good backgrounds. All women. They were all women. He looked about his cluttered desk and tried to focus on the four women.
What tied them together? What was it that they had in common? There must be something. But in speaking with the families, servants and friends there hadn’t be a united thread.
He pulled the picture of Irene Derry close to him and looked over the last picture taken of what had been a vibrant woman. A woman who had chosen to see her doctor because she had had female problems. Female problems. Women. Suddenly a thought sprang into his mind and he grabbed his coat and hat and hurried out the door.
✽✽✽
Felix shook his head as the man they thought might be Lyle Bowler opened the door to the room where he was staying at the boardinghouse.
“Detective Sergeant Felix of Metropolitan Police. Who might you be?”
“John Mitchell,” he replied in a heavy Scottish accent with a heavy salt and pepper beard.
“And your age?”
“Fifty-five,” he answered.
“Thank you for your time.” Felix said as the door closed.
“That was him I tell you,” the eager young Constable said excitedly.
Felix sighed. “Constable. The man we are looking for is young and not Scottish.”
“He could be faking the accent,” the eager constable said.
“And the lines on his face and his salt and pepper hair?”
“Theater makeup?” The constable responded.
“Come along,” Felix said as they left the boardinghouse.
✽✽✽
Val used the key they had taken from Odean’s body to let himself into his practice. It was a small business with an office, a patient room and a small waiting room.
It was getting dark as the days were shorter now and he moved to the doctor’s desk and took out his matches. He lit the tall oil lamp that was on the desk and replaced the glass chimney back on top of it.
The soft light illuminated the rapidly darkening room as Val carried the lamp over to the place where he knew the doctor had kept his files. He flipped through the numerous files and then took a handful of them to the doctor’s desk.
He placed the lamp back on the desk and shook his head. It had never occurred to him that the link between all of the victims was already known to him. He had not realized it until now. If Irene Derry had been to the doctor and used her sister’s name, what if the other women had done the same and they had all been seeing the same doctor.
It was possible. He felt a thrill course through him. He pulled open the first file and looked down the sheet which held her statistics. She was fifty years old and suffering from heat flashes and weight gain. She was too old to be one of the four. He placed her aside.
The next woman was in her sixties and she was suffering from severe headaches. Val placed her on top of the woman in her fifties. He opened the next woman’s file and felt his heart beat faster. The woman was listed as twenty-two with yellow hair and only eight stone. That sounded like Effie Whitson.
He studied the woman’s file and continued reading through the diagnosis. The young woman had suffered from nervousness and mood swings and he had prescribed his tonic and rest. The young lady had been to see the doctor several times and he had also recommended pelvic massages for her.
The tonic recipe was noted in the doctor’s small penciled writing. It was listed as: one fluid ounce of 45 percent alcohol, 10.7 percent ether and Laudanum. The tonic basically had the same amount of alcohol, if not more, than a glass of whiskey. The tonic would render the patient drunk. Was that cured?
Val shook his head. The doctor had quite a racket. He placed the woman’s file aside and looked through several more files. Many of the women were older and didn’t fit the description of the victims. Some were too young and so they didn’t fit. Twice he went back to the filing cabinet only to return with more files to review.
From the windows behind him, he could see it was now dark. He wondered absently how Sergeant Felix had fared with the Lyle Bowler lead. He knew it was getting past dinner but he didn’t want to stop. This was the first new lead they had had in a long time that might link the women together and he was invigorated.
He pulled another file close to him and began to read the description of the woman. He felt his heart beat quicken. This woman sounded like Aida. Aida had visited a doctor? It couldn’t be. She had never mentioned it to him. The woman had been prescribed the tonic after she had complained about headaches. Odean had written that she had impure blood and depression.
On the next page he saw that this woman had also been prescribed pelvic massages. Val slammed his hand down on the table. No wonder Odean Barton was dead. One of these women had a man who found out the truth and killed him. They had discovered that he was no doctor but a charlatan peddling his potions and massages to unsuspecting women and plying his trade on them.
He tossed the woman into the smaller pile and then came upon Caroline Derry’s file. He didn’t need to open the file to know what was inside. A woman complaining of different ailments prescribed the doctor’s tonic and given massages. But this woman was pregnant and now she was dead.
He closed his eyes. It was getting late. He wanted to get through a few more files to see if he was onto something. Several more revealed one that sounded again like Effie, two that could be Bessie and another Aida.
The mantel desk clock struck the hour and it was eight in the evening. He looked up in surprise. Where had the time gone? He had been there for hours
poring over the files. He looked at the small stack that he had begun and sighed. It was a beginning. He could meet with the families of the women and see if they or the servants could agree with the dates they visited the doctor. If these women were the victims, they were tied together through Odean Barton.
But had Odean Barton been the killer of them all? He took the ten files under his arms and blew out the light. When he plunged the room in darkness, he heard a noise outside in the small waiting room. The light from the windows did not give much light from the lamp lights outside on the street.
He placed the files down upon the desk and waited. Soon enough the door knob to the office turned and he saw a figure enter the room. Without waiting a second more, he grabbed the figure and pushed the person up against the wall.
“What do you want here, eh?” He said angrily.
“Inspector. It’s me. Caroline.”
Chapter 14
In the dark, Val looked down into the face of Caroline. His hands had secured her shoulders to the wall and suddenly it was as if he had been burned. He removed his hands.
“What are you doing here?” He asked.
“I came to see you. Your sergeant at the station told me you would be here.”
“I see.” Val reached inside his pocket for the matches to re-light the lamp. He turned away from her to light it.
“I’m to purchase another house,” she told him awkwardly trying to fill in the silence. “As I’ve had several people want to help at the Guild and be a part of this, we can afford it now.”
“Who else has offered their support?”
“Well Lady Lyttleton of course, she likes to be seen to do things and be progressive as long as she isn’t doing the actual work.”
“That’s a bit harsh,” he said.
“I didn’t mean it that way. I’m very grateful to her.” She added. “And my estate agent. Peter Davies.”
Val felt the matches in his hand. “Peter Davies?”
“You know him?” She asked.
“No not really. I asked for his help with an address to a building.”
Of Night and Dark Obscurity Page 15
