The rise of Sherlock Holmes
Page 4
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“I had no intention of telling you any of this, detective but Alice... Her mouth moves so quickly! Mr Drebber had been with us nearly three weeks. His secretary Mr Strangerson had accompanied him from Copenhagen, I could see the stickers on their suitcases. Strangerson was a quiet, friendly man... but his employer was, well he was a bastard! Constant drink and brutish behaviour. On one occasion he... he even grabbed Alice! I fear It was the final straw. I gave him notice and told him to leave. I’m afraid, that is why he left”. Madam Charpentier said. I wasn’t done there, Holmes. I needed to know more.
“An hour later, Drebber returned. He was reek of booze and he forced his way in. He made a remark that he had missed his shuttle, sat down on the bed next to my daughter... and before my very eyes he proposed to her! She shrunk away from him terrified, but he tried to pull her for the door. That’s when my son Arthur came home. He had been on the planet Loxley with those dreadful Navy starships and it had been hard while he had been gone. Arthur kicked him out saying he would just go after him to be sure he stayed away. I don’t know what happened, but the next morning we had learned that Edward Drebber was dead.” The Madame concluded, wiping tears from her red eyes.
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“That was her statement, which I found rather interesting. Straight from her lips!” Gregson said finally and Holmes seemed to be listening more intently. I watched Holmes and Gregson talk as I drank my coffee. The plot was certainly starting to thicken.
“How long was the son gone" Holmes asked and Gregson nodded.
“Yes I asked, at first she wasn’t sure. She said maybe two hours but it could easily have been four or five. I asked her what he had been doing for those hours and she said she didn’t know. I took two officers, we arrested him advising him to come quietly. He said he supposed we were arresting him because of what happened to that Drebber bastard. Naturally I found him to be very suspicious indeed!” Gregson said finally and Holmes nodded.
“Indeed" Holmes offered as Mrs Hudson poured both of them some coffee before leaving the room again to clean up the mud on the staircase from the children.
“We took his statement, sadly he was unable to explain much. He said he’d met a Navy friend for a beer at the pub, though he wouldn’t disclose the name. I tell you, Holmes. I think we have our man!” Gregson laughed, sipping his coffee.
Lestrade entered the room next looking rather down. Gregson stood up to gloat.
“Why so sad, Lestrade? I nailed the bastard! Or is it you feel dumb about wasting all that time looking for Strangerson?” Gregson asked. Lestrade took off his hat and looked down at his feet, looking back into the eyes of Gregson again.
“Not really. I just came to tell you they found Joseph Strangerson. He’s dead. He was found at six this morning, so I guess you nailed the wrong man, Gregson!” Lestrade said as Holmes lit a pipe, nodding his head.
“Fascinating gentlemen! It would seem the game goes on!” Holmes said, sucking on his pipe.
CHAPTER SIX: THE SECOND BODY
At first, we all sat there in utter shock, listening intently to hear what the Inspector would say next. Holmes smoked his pipe, calmly tapping his fingers together and cleared his throat.
“Well Inspector, we have just heard the great detective Gregson's miraculous tale of events. Perhaps you might indulge us with your own story?” Holmes asked and Lestrade nodded, sitting opposite Holmes on the chair where Gregson had sat.
“Are you certain he is dead?” Gregson asked and Lestrade nodded.
“Beyond a doubt. I was the one who discovered the bloody mess. I’m sure you’ve been told Holmes, that I had figured Strangerson for the killer. I pursued my suspicions on that basis. The pair had been seen together at Euston Station at eight thirty of the third. At two in the morning, Drebber had been found dead at Brixton Road. All I needed to know was how Strangerson had been occupied between eight thirty and two am. I was convinced he’d have no alibi, therefore no excuse. I rang Liverpool telling them to keep a watchful eye on the shuttles. I figured the pair had been separated somehow, so I phoned the hotels, motels and hostels around Euston with a description of him. Finally, I get hold of a private hotel in Little George street and they said I was probably the gentleman he’d been expecting for two days. I told them I’d go up and see him immediately. I was a little worried he might take off as soon as he saw the uniform. A girl took me up to his room on the second floor so he might suspect it was just housekeeping. We get to his door and the girl screams. She takes off running down the hall, yeah? So I look down at the floor and see there’s blood spilling out from under the door. The door was locked from the inside, so I charged in with my shoulder,” Lestrade said, pausing to wipe sweat from his forehead.
“The window was open, and down on the floor by the window was the... bloody mess. He’d been dead for some time, the cause of death a stab wound in the left side of his chest. Blood everywhere. No doubt the blade had penetrated his heart. The part that made my skin crawl though, was what was written in blood on the wall above..” Lestrade said and Holmes nodded.
“RACHE...” Holmes muttered and Lestrade nodded.
I suddenly noticed by arms were covered with goose flesh and I rubbed them. I had seen horror and bloodshed in Afghanistan, but the thought of this murder still had the affect of filling me with unease. The Inspector continued his tale.
“The man was seen. A kid playing in one of the other rooms saw a man climbing outside and up to his window. He went outside, watched the man climb, thought nothing of it, but got a description of a bald man with a goatee. The man must have stayed in the room a while as we found bloody water in the sink and blood on the sheets where he wiped his knife.” Lestrade went on.
“Did the victim have anything on his person?” Holmes asked and Lestrade nodded.
“Yeah, another one of those Mormon books. He also had Drebber's purse, his initials were on it. They no doubt shared finances. A letter from Cleveland that dated back a month or so saying ‘J.H is in Europe', no other information on that...” Lestrade replied and Holmes lit another pipe.
“Nothing else?” He asked and Lestrade scratched his head.
“Nothing that I thought was really of any interest, just a glass of water on the table, um... a pack of cigarettes... oh and a small pillbox with two pills in it.” Lestrade concluded and Holmes clapped his hands together, laughing wickedly as Lestrade looked baffled.
“Are you taking the piss again, Holmes?” Lestrade asked and Holmes leant close to Lestrade.
“It’s remarkable to me that you still don’t see, Lestrade. Sometimes, the best clues are simply right under your nose,” Holmes said, Lestrade looking utterly confused.
“I don’t follow" Lestrade replied.
“The pills. Do you have them?” Holmes asked eagerly and Lestrade reached into his jacket pocket.
“Yes, I was going to process them with the rest of the evidence that’s out in the car, why man?” Lestrade asked, passing the pillbox to Holmes who instantly removed the pills from the pill box, studying them. The capsules were clear, the powder inside each pill seemingly identical.
“Watson! Do these look like normal pills to you?” Holmes asked me and I took a quick look at them.
“No they don’t look like any pharmaceutical prescription medicine I’ve ever seen. They’re probably made in a private lab,” I offered making my best assessment.
“Water soluble I’d say, given their transparency and lightness. A pearly grey in colour, wouldn’t you say, Watson?” Holmes asked and I nodded in agreement.
What Holmes did next I was not happy about. Mrs Hudson had a long suffering terrier downstairs and she was an old dog, clearly on the verge of death. To cut a long story short, Mrs Hudson hadn’t the heart to put her down so Holmes would often use the dog for experiments, the specifics of which he would not disclose. Until that very day.
“Watson! Get the dog!” Holmes asked, breaking open one of the two tablet capsules.
I brought the dog upstairs and she licked Lestrade, her body fat and her eyes tired and begging to be allowed to rest. Holmes opened one of the capsules, pouring the contents into a bowl and adding a small amount of milk. The dog lapped it up gratefully, licking its lips before sitting by the bowl as if to ask for more.
Holmes pulled out his pocket watch, watching the second hand tick around the clock, nervously tapping his foot as if awaiting some grand event to start.
“Come on! It can’t be a coincidence! There must be a reaction...” Holmes mumbled as the three of us sat around watching Holmes and this poor miserable dog do absolutely nothing. Holmes sniffed the pill capsule, tilted his head and looked back at the dog. Nothing.
“Huh! How about that! No reaction whatsoever. Unless...” He started, cracking open the second capsule, sniffing the powder and smiling as he poured the contents of the second capsule into the bowl, adding a little more milk. The dog lapped it up delightfully.
“Holmes, it’s wonderful that you’ve invited us to watch you feed drugs to a dog, but in all honesty... this is pointless!” Gregson said as Holmes gave him an angry look.
“Quiet! Or you can go outside and wait on the doorstep, you silly little man!” Holmes instructed and Gregson fell onto the sofa pouting.
Suddenly, the dog keeled over and Holmes smiled. He was the only one smiling at the sight of the dead dog on the floor.
“Of course! I should have suspected as much!” Holmes said as Lestrade wiped more sweat from his forehead.
“Of the two pills in that box, one was poison and the other was completely harmless. The smell of the second pill I had smelt before on the breath of Mr Drebber! The most commonplace crime is all to oft the most mysterious, because it produces no new features from where deductions can be made. It was right there though, under our very noses the whole time. We only needed to look. If these pills had been at the original crime scene, we would have caught him earlier, but they were at the second. This tells me our killer is done. His method revealed. He wants us to know how he has done it. From this we can learn that there will be no more murders!” Holmes said.
Gregson looked at the dead dog and then at Holmes. He looked rather frustrated.
“Look Holmes, we all know you’re smart... and these experiments of yours do prove that, but we know I was wrong about the Charpentier boy, and obviously Lestrade is wrong about Strangerson. Do you know who bloody did this or not?” Gregson asked impatiently. I myself had to admit, I was curious to hear whom Holmes had deduced the killer to be and also what he had hired those children to look for.
“Do I know who did this? Yes. But a name is but a small thing. This is a situation I am hoping will be dealt with delicately, for the clock is ticking, and time is running out. I would like to finish this affair myself. Your killer has a name, but a name can change and he will do so if he feels like we are on to him. He will run and hide if we move without thinking. He is a man that knows how to move fast and believe me he will. I think that I can say, respectfully, this man is beyond any of you. He has always been several steps ahead, and for now he still is. But if he suspects we are getting too close, he will and can vanish. Mark my words,” Holmes said as his cell phone rang and he quickly answered it.
“Yes? Wonderful Wiggins. Send the driver up stairs too, you both can help with my bags,” Holmes said, closing his phone and grabbing some bags from his bedroom, bringing them into the sitting room by the doorway.
Holmes seemed to be taking some kind of journey, which I thought was odd as he had not mentioned it to me. The boy Wiggins and a bald, six foot cab driver climbed up the stairs, Holmes patting the boy on the head as he slipped him a candy bar and the boy took off running.
“Gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to Jefferson Hope. The murderer of Edward Drebber and Joseph Strangerson!” Holmes exclaimed. He referred to the bald Taxi driver with the goatee.
I froze, and everything – The very fabric of time itself seemed to slow down. Jefferson’s face filled with rage as he swung at Holmes, who was in fact an avid boxer and knew how to move himself. Holmes ducked the swing, throwing a punch into Jefferson’s ribs. The man staggered backward, running for the window and smashing it to make his escape. Lestrade and Gregson had him in handcuffs as they pinned him to the floor, glass shards sticking out of his bald head. The two men forced him onto the ground.
“You’re nicked, sunshine! Don’t bloody move!” Lestrade exclaimed, looking over at Holmes who was catching his breath and lighting a pipe.
“His cab is outside. You might want to take it in to Scotland Yard. And I’m sure you will have plenty of questions, believe me detectives I am happy to answer them all!” Holmes exclaimed.
CHAPTER SEVEN: A GAME OF DEATH
I accompanied Holmes and Lestrade in the back of the Police car, the vehicle lifting off and carrying us from Baker street to the racing traffic that streamed through the sky. Jefferson sat behind a laser screen shield in the back of the car, looking out the window as it flew high over the city. He watched as the flying ships and cars jetted through the sky, buzzing over rooftops and around towering skyscrapers. Glowing neon holograms of prize fighting, horse racing and women dancing reflecting on his face through the glass of the window.
Behind us, Gregson drove Jefferson’s cab, following closely. He travelled alone as myself, Holmes and Lestrade had remained with the prisoner. Oh, and no one really wanted to travel with Gregson.
On the radio, slow techno music played quietly and Jefferson kept staring out the window as if lost in a trance.
“You will stand before the Royal High Court for murder which is punishable by death. You have the right to be silent, but if you say anything at all know it may be held against you in court. Do you understand?” Lestrade asked and Jefferson laughed.
“Oh I have plenty to say! You pigs might not be able to shut me up!” He replied and Lestrade nodded. Holmes glanced over the seat, looking at Jefferson right in the eyes.
“You might want to save that for your trial" Holmes said to Jefferson and the man smiled again.
“There may not be a trial! No, no I have no intention of doing myself any harm, don’t worry. I am proud of you, Holmes. You didn’t disappoint me! I set them up, and you knock them down! You’d make a wonderful policeman! Better than this lot!” Jefferson said. Holmes couldn’t help but smile.
“Why wouldn’t there be a trial?” I asked and Jefferson looked at me.
“Who are you? Are you a doctor?” Jefferson asked and I nodded my head.
“Yes I am" I replied seeing no reason to give him my name.
“Well doctor, if you’d be so kind to feel my chest right now. I won’t hurt you, I promise. Look you got me, right? Where can I go?” He asked and Holmes gave a nod of approval. I lowered the ray shield and touched the man’s chest. There was a great and intense amount of pounding and commotion inside him. I noticed his long, filthy fingernails as he lifted his shirt.
“You have an aortic aneurysm. How long have you been like this?” I asked, raising the ray shield again.
“Years. It’s from over-exposure and malnourishment among the Salt Lake Mountains. Been getting worse for days now. Doctors recently gave me only a few days to live. My heart could explode in my chest any time now. That’s why I want to talk. I want to be sure you lot don’t bloody look at what I’ve done and judge me without knowing any of my reasons. I don’t want to be remembered as a monster,” he said and Holmes raised an eyebrow.
“Well, you might be too late for that old mate!” I said, returning to my seat. His condition was unfortunate but it was also too advanced to treat. The man wasn’t lying. He could indeed die at any time.
“What’s that mean?” Lestrade asked and I sighed.
“An aortic aneurysm results in blood spilling out into the abdominal cavity. In ninety nine per
cent of patients, it results in a very quick death" I replied and Lestrade cursed.
“You could have had surgery for this!” I exclaimed and Jefferson shook his head.
“It’s always the answer with you doctors, isn’t it? Have an operation, take some pills. Not for me doctor. No, this is just the way it is. I’m not afraid to die, sir. Are you?” He asked and I sighed, turning away from him.
“So he could die at any time?” Lestrade asked and I nodded.
“Most certainly.” I replied and Lestrade put the flying vehicle on auto pilot, an electronic voice confirming it as he took out a notepad and prepared to take a statement.
“Then it’s my duty to take a statement. Carry on" Lestrade said and Holmes and I listened intently.
“My hatred of these men, and why I hated them will have no meaning to any of you. They were guilty of taking two lives, a father and a daughter, John Ferrier and Lucy Ferrier, so their lives weren’t worth spit. After the time that passed, the hours and days... I was unable to secure a conviction. Any one of you might have done the same!” Jefferson said as Lestrade took down his notes while we drifted through the clouds.
“Lucy was to marry me, and I carried her ring with me every day, vowing to have my revenge. I followed those men across two continents to find them. She was forced to marry Drebber and days later she died of a broken heart. The men were rich and I was poor. I trailed them to London, but I was broke. I needed a job that would keep my finger to the pulse and put food in my mouth. I had precious time, you see. I knew the end was coming... death was coming and I could not avoid him forever. So I took a job as a taxi driver. The money wasn’t great, but I wasn’t a bad driver. I knew how to fly, it was a gift. It took me a while to learn my way around... The city is so big compared to the old days. Its a maze. But I learned where the hotels and motels were. All the popular spots and worked my way up from there. I discovered the men I hunted were at a Camberwell boarding house. They wouldn’t recognize me with a goatee and I knew I had them. By cab and by foot I hunted them, always at their heel. They were cunning. Drebber was always drunk, Strangerson wasn’t one to be caught sleeping, they were tricky. My greatest fear was my chest would burst and I wouldn’t be able to complete my work. I didn’t give up though. I would not give up. One evening I was driving around Torquay Terrace, and there they were getting into a cab. At Euston Station I stood near them at the platform as they planned to take a shuttle to Liverpool. They had missed one if I remember rightly, and the next wasn’t coming for a few hours. At that point Drebber had said he had some business to take care of and asked Strangerson to wait. Apparently they had planned to stick together, but Drebber’s matter was urgent and private. They arranged to meet later at a private hotel and catch a later shuttle. I was delighted! Finally I had them right where I wanted them. Separated. A man had left a key behind to an abandoned Brixton house at work and I made a copy of it. Drebber had walked around drunk for a while and I followed him. He wound up going back to the Terrace and I wondered what he was up to. There was some commotion inside and yelling, but I waited for him to come out. Two men came out, the other was following Drebber. I didn’t know him, but he was pissed off about him chastising his girl or something. The younger guy hit Drebber a few times, but Drebber ran off, drunk and laughing. He hailed my taxi and got in. He wanted to go to the private hotel. The man was so drunk he could barely stand. This was the moment. I had him. I drove him to the house on Brixton Road.” Jefferson said, pausing to take some breaths.