Of Night and Dark Obscurity

by Nicola Italia

  “I must tell you, Caroline, many of the women who work at the workhouse, and those inside, don’t even like to wander the streets alone anymore.”

  “Because of the killings?” She asked.

  Stella nodded. “The women walk in pairs and never venture out at night.”

  “It’s better to be safe,” she agreed. “My grandmother and father have told me the same thing.”

  But she had disobeyed them when she had visited Val that night.

  “How is your Inspector?” Stella asked suddenly.

  “He’s not mine,” she began. “He’s buying a house. It’s a beautiful house newly built in Westminster. I’ve seen it. Peter Davies is selling him the property.”

  “La di da!” Stella said smiling. “Westminster.”

  “I think he’s frustrated. The case is high profile and difficult. So much is at stake.”

  “I saw the Punch article about you two,” Stella admitted.

  “That was abominable. I was so angry. It was outrageous that they take something so serious and horrible and turn it into smut for sales.” Caroline fumed.

  “It’s what they do. Pay them no mind.” Stella told her.

  “I hope he finds the killer soon, Stella. It grieves me to think of Irene lying in her grave alone and her killer still free to roam the streets searching for new prey.”

  ✽✽✽

  Felix and Val took the cab to the address that Felix had followed Oliver to. It was a room not far from Val’s own lodgings. It was on the second floor in a rundown part of town.

  “Jesus,” Val said as they came to their destination. “I would have thought the man would live better than this.”

  “Maybe he’s frugal with his coin.”

  “Maybe.”

  Taking the stairs quickly, they were able to find his room at the end of a badly lit hall. Knocking twice on the door, it opened to reveal Oliver Morris. The middle-aged man was going bald with his hair turning salt and pepper. He had a neat mustache and was dressed in trousers and a shirt. He was shocked when he opened the door to reveal the detective and his sergeant.

  “May we come in?” Val asked politely.

  Oliver nodded and when they entered the room, Val was surprised, and then not at all by the surroundings. Bookcases lined one complete side of his sitting room and the small table was set for tea with a pot and one cup and saucer. His bed was made and covered with a fine linen bedspread and his clothes pressed and hung for the next day’s work.

  “You choose an interesting part of London to live, Mr. Morris,” Val said.

  “It’s merely a place to lay one’s head. It doesn’t need to be Marlborough House,” Oliver returned.

  “Quite so.” Val agreed. “We wish to speak with you privately away from Mrs. Pratt. She seems a respectable sort of women.”

  “She is,” Oliver agreed heatedly.

  Felix looked quickly at Val who did not look back. “May we sit?”

  “Please.”

  Felix sat on the small blue sofa while Val took a seat at the tea table across from Oliver.

  “My duty is to find a killer Mr. Morris. I don’t wish any harm to come to Mrs. Pratt, nor her establishment, nor yourself,” Val told the older man.

  He nodded. “I understand Sir.”

  “You perhaps are fond of Mrs. Pratt,” Val conceded.

  “I am. She was having a hard time of it when her husband died. I heard of it and offered my services.”

  “Then you are to be commended,” Val said. “I want to tell you about five women. You don’t know them. They’re strangers to you. But to me, they are very important. Effie Whitson, Bessie Turner, Aida Harris, Irene Derry and Prudence Finch.”

  “The Primrose Strangler,” Oliver nodded. “I’ve read of them.”

  “Aida Harris was my fiancée. So, I have an even greater need to find the killer to have justice served.”

  Oliver wetted his lips. “I see.”

  “That Tuesday night, the day Prudence Finch was found. Who was in the Club?” He asked pulling out his notebook.

  “C-can I get you some tea?” Oliver asked.

  “No thank you. The sergeant and I are fine.” Val said, noting the man looked nervous.

  “I’ve some cream biscuits here. They’re delicious,” Oliver told the men.

  “Mr. Morris,” Val said quietly.

  “I lied to you. Before,” he said suddenly.

  “I know,” Val said simply.

  “You do?”

  “People are my,” he said pausing for the right word, “trade, Mr. Morris. Reading them, talking to them, gleaning the information I need. I knew you were protecting Mrs. Pratt. You have loyalty. I respect that. But there is a murderer with blood on his hands. And no amount of loyalty can cleanse them. So. Who was at the Club Tuesday night.”

  Oliver took a deep breath. “They’re a strange lot. They go by code names and that’s how I know them.”

  “What do you mean code names?” Val queried.

  Oliver looked at both the men. “There’s a Mr. Sage, Mr. Cypress, Mr. Basil, Mr. Willow and Mr. Cedar,” he said checking off the names.

  Val felt himself go very still as he recalled the name of the owners of the opium den building. The Association of Herbs.

  “Go on,” Val nodded to the older man.

  “They keep to themselves. They always ask for a private room and take their meals and drink in the room.” Oliver remembered.

  “What did the men look like?”

  Oliver tried to focus. “They are well-dressed. I remember that. They are quite well dressed and well spoken. Some of the men that come into Pratt’s are all about appearances but these men really are.”

  “What do mean?” Felix asked confused.

  “The clothes for instance, Savile Row,” Oliver nodded his head. “I’d bet a month’s wages on it. I can spot a ready-made suit and a tailored suit straight away and these men were tailored.”

  Val made a notation in his notebook.

  “And the shoes?” Oliver went on. “John Lobb I’ll wager as well. Finest leather from a fine shoemaker,” he nodded and Val suppressed a smile.

  “You’ve an eye for detail, Mr. Morris,” Val complimented him.

  Oliver shrugged. “It’s my business. I’m a man who studies other men. When you are a steward, you recognize the man who will want more wine with dinner, another whiskey, a lit pipe, a cigar, and you know which men expect to get these things for free and which men will pay for these items. I care about the men who will pay.”

  Val smiled then. “Well done.”

  “I do remember one item that stood out in my mind. It’s only because my own father loved pocket watches, though his was nothing so grand. But this one—this one was quite a looker.”

  Val put his pencil down. “Yes?”

  “Once the gentlemen were speaking and they asked after the time. Why they couldn’t cast a glance at the mantelpiece I really can’t say, but one of the gentlemen pulled out his pocket watch. I was pouring brandy at the time and the gold watch caught the light in the room. It was beautiful,” Oliver recalled.

  “What does that prove?” Felix said not following.

  Oliver gave him a balanced glance. “This wasn’t an ordinary watch. This was a Charles Frodsham & Co watch. I remember seeing a picture of it somewhere. Magazine perhaps. It was 18K Gold and I could even see the roman numerals on it. I recall reading that it belonged to a certain family and had been in the family for several generations,” he finished looking smug.

  Val smiled broadly at the man. “I’d like to buy you a pint one day Mr. Morris.”

  Oliver shook his head. “Never touch the stuff, Inspector.”

  Val stood up and shook his hand. “Tea, then.”

  Chapter 20

  Once inside the cab, Felix looked confused and bewildered.

  “I understand that you knew half of what that upstart was saying, but would you mind translating it to us lesser folk?”

  Val smil
ed lightly and took out his pipe. He retrieved his matches from his pocket and lit it. In the dark of the cab as it swayed, he puffed several times and then glanced at Felix.

  “That Mr. Morris, he could teach a class on observation to new detectives,” he remarked.

  “Is that so?”

  “Look at what he told us. He told us about their clothes, their shoes, and a rare and expensive pocket watch.” Val glanced out the window.

  “So?” Felix looked perplexed.

  “So. Charles Frodsham & Co makes watches that are almost art pieces. They are not pushed out on a factory line ten a day. Whoever bought this watch, whoever owns it, we’ll be able to track him down. Now do you see?”

  Val puffed again on his pipe as Felix smiled. “I sure do, Guvnor. We’re closing in on our prey.”

  ✽✽✽

  Val and Felix went to visit the clockmakers the next day located at 84 Strand. It was a very respectable place of business and the man serving the customers looked dour and bored, which Val supposed was the equivalent of snobbery.

  “I’d like to speak to the manager,” Val told the first man.

  The man looked down his nose at Val and Felix and sniffed. “I’m sure he’s very busy at the moment. If you’ll be so kind as to leave your card.”

  “I will leave my card,” Val said pleasantly. “And if I don’t speak to the manager within five minutes, I will tell everyone in the building that I’m a Detective Chief Inspector here on business relating to fraud.”

  The man’s eyes grew round and he sputtered something before disappearing behind a large oak door. He returned a minute later with an older man who had a white beard and spectacles.

  “Gentlemen I’m Martin Bridle. Please follow me to my office.”

  Once seated, Mr. Bridle offered them tea and they declined.

  “Mr. Bridle, I’m Detective Chief Inspector Pierce, this is Detective Sergeant Grant. We’re investigating a series of murders.”

  “Murders? I’m sure no one here has committed a murder!”

  Val frowned. “No Mr. Bridle. You and your employees are not suspected of murder.”

  Mr. Bridle looked relieved. “What brings you to Charles Frodsham & Co?”

  Val pulled out his notebook. “We understand that you created an 18-karat gold watch with roman numerals. It is believed to be in a particular family. I would like to know the name of who owns the watch.”

  Mr. Bridle pulled out a large ledger book and looked down the list of names. “Do you know when this watch was made?”

  Val shook his head. “I do not.”

  “We have made several 18 karat gold watches over the years. We are the preeminent watch maker in London,” Mr. Bridle said proudly.

  Val nodded. “I understand you cater to prominent families. Perhaps you can draw up a list of all the gold watches made in the last forty years.”

  “Forty years?” Mr. Bridle looked shocked. “That will take time.”

  Val nodded. “I understand. We will call for it in two days’ time.”

  The man looked exasperated but acquiesced. “It will be ready.”

  “Thank you.”

  ✽✽✽

  Val met with Peter Davies to finalize the paperwork for the house. He was excited that he had made the decision to purchase it. He made a good living with the Metropolitan Police and he had saved a significant amount of money over the years which enabled him to take this next step.

  He was thrilled that not only had Caroline been able to see the house, but he could tell she found it pleasing as he did. It was everything a home should be and once the killer was brought to justice, he would take the next step.

  He knew he was in love with her. It had not happened quickly; instead it had happened gradually as they had been thrown into each other’s path. He had been about to marry Aida whom he had cared for, but Caroline was something altogether different. He admired her tremendously and she was everything he wanted in a woman. She was intelligent, lovely and kind. She cared about bettering the lives of those around her and had made it a point to help them. That kind of selflessness struck a chord in him.

  He knew very few women in his circle that would go out of their way to help those less fortunate. Some women organized charities and gave clothes and shoes to the poor, but Caroline was actually purchasing properties to renovate so people could have good, safe places to live. She had a giving and generous heart.

  He went back to his small room and began to pack up his belongings. He wouldn’t take much from the room as he wanted to start fresh. He would take his books and clothes and that was it. He would choose new furnishings for his new home and knew his savings would be well spent. He whistled lightly as he packed up his belongings.

  ✽✽✽

  Val spent much of the next day moving his meager belongings into his new home in Westminster. He knew he would next have to furnish the home and he knew exactly who to ask for to help him.

  He sent a card round to the Derry home and made an appointment to see Mrs. and Miss Derry that afternoon. Taking special care in his dress, he arrived just as the clock in the parlor was chiming the hour.

  “Inspector,” Malvina Derry greeted him warmly as he settled into the couch in the parlor.

  “Madam,” he said equally warmly. “Thank you for receiving me.”

  “Caroline and I were so pleased to receive your card.” Malvina said smiling at him and at Caroline who was seated next to him.

  He smiled. “I have a particular reason to request your time. I need to furnish my new house. I’m not sure if Miss Derry told you—“

  “I did,” she smiled at him. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you. I need to furnish the house and have absolutely no idea what is in style and what would suit. I would like to ask that you, Mrs. Derry, and Miss Derry, aid me,” he finished smiling. “If you would be so kind,” he added.

  “How delightful,” Malvina said. “I must admit I know of some charming places that carry very elegant pieces that would make your home quite stylish. I would be pleased to help you.”

  Caroline nodded. “I will help in any way I can, Inspector.”

  “You are both too kind. Perhaps we can meet tomorrow at Harrod’s?” He asked politely.

  “Harrod’s it is,” Malvina nodded. “At eleven.”

  Val took his departure and Malvina watched his retreating figure from the window and smiled widely.

  “Hmmm,” she said returning to her needlework.

  Caroline looked across at her grandmother. “Hmmm what?” She asked.

  Malvina pulled the needle through the fabric and rolled her eyes. “It just seems like a young man is going through so much trouble. That’s all.”

  “Going through so much trouble for what, Gran?” Caroline asked.

  Malvina nodded. “Exactly so. He’s going through so much trouble asking me to attend the decorations for his home. Why should he do that? That’s a wife’s job to decorate the home.”

  “Gran you know very well the Inspector is unmarried.”

  “Yes, Caroline. He is unmarried.”

  “So?”

  “So, he should leave the decorations to his wife’s pleasure. Unless of course…” Malvina trailed off.

  “Unless of course,” Caroline picked up.

  “Well unless of course his wife is picking out the decorations in a roundabout way.” She said oddly.

  Caroline understood what her grandmother was saying but instead said, “You’re planning on remarrying, Gran?”

  Malvina smiled at her granddaughter. “Cheeky.”

  ✽✽✽

  Val smiled broadly as he made his way home. He had asked Caroline and her grandmother to join him as he picked out the furniture for his new home because he had a plan. He would make arrangements beforehand that everything Malvina liked he would pause to consider and everything that Caroline truly loved would be purchased. He would make her see that her place was beside him. He was almost whistling a jaunty tune when
he arrived at the police station.

  Felix was at his normal desk seated outside his own office while a figure was seated at Val’s own desk. When he walked past Felix, he saw his eyes were trained on the figure inside the office.

  “Pierce.” The voice greeted him coolly.

  Val nodded at the figure of Superintendent Osgood seated behind his desk. “Superintendent.”

  “Close the door.” Came the quiet command.

  Val did as he was instructed and sat in the subservient position of the chair facing the desk.

  “It’s come to my attention that not only is this primrose strangler case dragging on with a string of five bodies to its name, but you’ve been seen in the companion of the lady, the victim’s sister, on several occasions.”

  Val was silent.

  “What exactly is going on Pierce?” He asked. “And I want the truth. Did the Punch article make up a story or did they simply fill in the gaps?”

  Val looked across at the man. “The case is slow moving because it’s that sort of case. The clues have been scant and some have led nowhere. There’s a lot of smoke and mirrors with this one. I am doing my best. As to the lady in question, I will not discuss her.”

  Osgood nodded. “I see.”

  Both men stared at each other for several moments. Val knew that the Superintendent didn’t like him. Osgood had grown up in one of the worst parts of town and struggled to become what he was. He was a tough man hard on himself and hard on the men that worked with him and Val might have admired him. Except that underneath it all he seemed to have a huge chip on his shoulder for men born of grander circumstances and birth.

  If he had worked hard and made himself his own man, then Osgood should understand that Val had done the same thing. Val may not have paid out of pocket for his education, but he still attended the classes, sat in on the lectures and received the excellent grades by merit. Money had not bought that. But for all Val’s hard work, Osgood didn’t see it that way.

  He looked down on Val for his money and background and hated to think that one day Val might make Superintendent in his own right.