by DAN MONTY
“Forgive me, I get so tired" Jefferson said.
“Go on" Lestrade replied and Jefferson nodded.
“Years ago, I was a janitor at York College. There was a professor giving a lecture on poisons, an alkaloid he called it. He’d extracted it from plants and natives had used them to make poison arrows centuries earlier. I used the alkaloid to create a soluble pill, several of them, but I’d also make soluble pills that were harmless. I’d place them into my pill boxes. I decided to make a real game of it. There would be a good pill and a bad pill. The bad pill would kill you and the good one would not – but my victims would have to choose, and I would take whichever one they did not. Equal chance of death. Russian roulette. They could live or die, but they would have to make a choice!” Jefferson said with a wink. Holmes’ eyes narrowed.
“A game of death" Holmes said and Jefferson nodded.
“May the true righteous man survive" Jefferson replied and Holmes shook his head.
“There’s nothing righteous about you, Jefferson. To you this is little more than a game of chance, though your victims were the only ones taking a true chance. You were already a dead man,” Holmes offered and Jefferson leant forward smiling.
“So were they. They just didn’t know it yet.” Jefferson replied. He then walked us through the moment Drebber had died.
“I looked at him, the drunken fool looking back at me fumbling along and wondering why he was at that empty house. I said to him ‘who am I? Look at my face! You remember my face?’ and he looks stunned, like the devil has finally caught up to him. I said ‘I hunted you from Salt Lake City to St Petersburg. Lucy Ferrier! I bet you don’t feel the same way about her now, do ye?’ I asked as I locked the door. My hands shook and my chest pounded. I might have suffered a fit, but my nose started gushing blood, relieving me somewhat.
“She was my wife" Drebber said to me and I smiled at that.
“Not by choice though, was she?” I asked.
“You’re going to murder me?” Drebber asked and I laughed, shaking my head.
“No. I’m going to let chance decide. Two pills, you take one and I’ll have the other. Let’s see how strong your faith in God really is. You dragged my beloved Lucy from her slaughtered father. You planned to force her to marry you! All because it was against your religion to let her marry me. Let’s have your religious faith save you if it is meant to be. No tricks, you take one... and I’ll take the other. Our fate will be decided by chance, for one of these pills will suck the useless life out of you, but the other is harmless. Its not murder, Drebber. I am giving you more of a chance than you ever deserved,” I said.
“I didn’t kill her father! I would never kill John!” Drebber said and I shook my head.
“No, but you did something far worse! You broke my Lucy’s heart. Now she’s dead. So, all we have left is this,” I said, retracting the pill box with the two pills in it. We took the pills and I pulled out Lucy’s ring, dangling it in front of his eyes as my nose dripped blood. He gasped, panicking as he fell to the floor. I Must have dropped the ring as I checked to see if his heart were beating. My hands shook and it slid into his pocket. I was far too overjoyed to see the man dead to pay it much mind. There was so much blood from my nose. I used some of it to scratch the word ‘RACHE’ onto the wall.
“I thought it would be a nice way of finishing things. A little touch to throw the police off. I returned to my cab and drove off into the night sky. I noticed then that Lucy’s ring was gone and I cursed. I planned to go back, but thought it too risky.” Jefferson said as Lestrade looked at me. I thought he was trying to say something and I decided to ask.
“What’s wrong, Lestrade?” I asked and Lestrade blushed as he held up his notebook.
“Ran out of paper!” Lestrade said and I turned to Holmes who was rolling his eyes as he pulled out a digital recorder.
“You can relax, Inspector. I have been recording the whole statement. I rarely leave home without it,” Holmes replied.
“For Strangerson I knew he was at the private hotel. I waited for him to come out, but he didn’t the bastard! He probably suspected something was amiss when Drebber didn’t return. I knew his room number, that was easy to find out and outside I noticed his open window. I grabbed a ladder, looking like a maintenance guy no doubt to a kid that was watching me, I climbed into his window. He was surprised to see me, I’ll say that. I offered him the same choice, but the man lunged for my throat! I stabbed him in the chest with a knife I brought along, I liked to have a backup in case things got dicey. I have little more to say than that, and it’s a good thing too because I’m spent. A young boy signalled my cab and got in asking if I knew a cab driver named Jefferson Hope. I told him it was me, suspecting no harm at all. He told me I was needed to pick up a man at 221b Baker street and I figured it would be a good fare for the day. That’s it.” Jefferson concluded with a grin.
CHAPTER EIGHT: THE GAME ENDS
The police cruiser flew down to a tall building on Broadway in Victoria towards a tunnel that protruded from the side of the building, which was actually known as New Scotland Yard. The interior was rather white; tasteful art deco decor and modern, high tech computer screens with holographic maps of the thirty two boroughs of London the Police were responsible for, which excluded the city of London itself.
Gregson, Lestrade, myself and Holmes led the prisoner into a white prison area where criminals would await sentencing. Jefferson was photographed, fingerprinted and placed inside a cell with a laser screen that would keep him from attempting escape, though none of us thought that would be his intention anyway, least of all Holmes, who remained with me as Lestrade and Gregson went off to process their findings and evidence. As far as they were concerned, the case was closed.
Holmes walked over to the crimson laser screen, looking in at the prisoner. I looked on, folding my arms and listening.
“I only have one question, your accomplice? Who was the man you sent to retrieve the ring? I should also inform you that the ring was not the ring you dropped. That ring is now in evidence,” Holmes said. Jefferson nodded his head.
“Yes, I realised later that the ring you gave him was not the original. In regards to my friend, I’m sorry I can not tell you, Holmes. I will take whatever is coming to me for as long as I live, but I will not incriminate my colleagues. I bet that holographic suit of his fooled you though! Amazing technology! Illegal of course, I mean you could disguise yourself as anyone! Imagine that! Sadly it’s a younger man’s game all that running around.” Jefferson said in reply.
“Well come Thursday, you will face the magistrate and you will go to trial. Your game is over, Jefferson. Enjoy prison. I think it will suit you just fine!” Holmes said, and the two of us left the building, hailing a cab back to Baker Street.
*****
I awoke the next day to the sound of Holmes playing the violin. It was Lieder again and he was playing beautifully.
I ventured downstairs and Holmes finished playing, setting his fiddle down by his chair, the bow beside it. I sat down in the chair opposite his and sighed.
“Mrs Hudson ok?” I asked and he nodded, packing some tobacco into his pipe.
“So, I take it you employed those children to find the cab. That was a clever move. Shame about the dog though,” I added and Holmes sighed.
“The dog was miserable Watson. I just gave it a hand to doggie heaven" Holmes replied and I chuckled, shaking my head.
“I was thinking about writing a book. You know, a chronicle of your exploits? I mean the police get all the credit for your work and observations, it might be nice to have a record of your adventures if nothing else. What do you think?” I asked and Holmes shrugged.
“I suppose it would be mildly entertaining to know my adventures are being recorded by some means. You wouldn’t make me look like a fool though, would you?” Holmes asked and I smiled.
“Maybe sometimes,” I grinned and Holmes sat back in his chair, smoking on his pipe.
“What would you call it" Holmes asked and I shrugged. I honestly hadn’t pondered titles. Now that he mentioned it I had no idea.
“What about... A study in scarlet?” I offered and Holmes stifled a laugh.
“Absurd!” Holmes remarked and I smiled at his bluntness, not deterred in the slightest.
“Your dislike of it makes me like it even more. I love it!” I said and Holmes rolled his eyes.
“You need to get another dog, Holmes. You owe Mrs Hudson that at least!” I said and Holmes glared at me.
“I will do no such thing! What on earth do we need another dog for? We barely saw the last one because it was always asleep. If I’d known you’d suggest I bought another, I’d have stuffed that one!” Holmes said and I laughed.
“Yes, I can see you doing that. So what’s next for the great Sherlock Holmes?” I asked and Holmes sighed again.
“Well we still have to tie up the loose ends for this case, Watson. After that, perhaps I shall pass out for a few days – Maybe a week. Foetal and bored. You can bring me Thai food if you like!” Holmes said and I frowned.
“Not bloody likely. I’ll be your doctor, Holmes but I won’t be your uber service as well.” I stated, standing up from the chair and limping over to the window.
“How’s the leg?” Holmes asked and I turned to him with a touched smile. He never usually cared to ask.
“It’s feeling better. Thank you for asking.” I said and he nodded. He sat there smoking his pipe and reading the morning paper. I returned my attention to the window, glancing out of it and watching the traffic fly overhead in the skies above.
On Thursday, we had been warned to be at the courthouse as our testimonies would be invaluable to the trial. Though such a request was unnecessary as we did not get the chance to speak, the higher judge taking the matter before a private tribunal, where it was announced that Jefferson would be dealt the harshest of punishments.
The day after the trial, the body of Jefferson Hope was discovered in his cell. His aneurysm had burst and he lay on the floor of his cell with a queer smile on his face – as though he had expressed a silent great relief that he had finally met his maker, and his suffering was over.
That night in our sitting room, Holmes and I discussed the matter in great detail.
“I suppose Lestrade and Gregson would be glad to be done with that fellow. Case closed.” Holmes said as he poured a glass of red wine for himself and one for me. We sat in our chairs, drank wine and talked.
“The way I see it, they didn’t solve the case. You did.” I said and Holmes smiled.
“It was a simple case,” Holmes said, sipping his wine.
“Simple? Please!” I exclaimed not believing what I was hearing.
“Just a matter of thinking backwards instead of forwards, Watson. I will be first to admit that many people have trouble with this, as to me it comes second nature. If you do indeed intend to write of my adventures, you might do well to enhance your own powers of observation. Some people if you give them a problem, they can come up with a solution. They absorb information and argue that certain things will come to pass. Other people will process the same information, yet allow to evolve from their own inner consciousness the steps which lead to a greater result. This backwards type of thinking is known as analytical thinking.” Holmes said and I began to follow what he was trying to say.
“Of my observations regarding this case, the first point was the footprints, which despite being buried under a stampede of Scotland Yard's finest, I was still able to draw the conclusion that there were in fact two distinct sneaker prints buried beneath them, the sizes of the imprints far too large to be that of female sized feet. To most people walking through the path, it might have only looked a muddy path – but every line, every impression tells a story. This was a useful piece of evidence in the case, for it told me that the persons who had walked into the house were both indeed men. The suspicion was confirmed when I entered the house and noticed the shoes worn on the victim. The message scrawled on the wall, Gregson realised was inscribed ‘RACHE' yet the man who had drawn the message was at least six feet tall. A person will generally draw a message at eye level, and it was scrawled approximately six feet off the ground. This tells me the killer was a six foot man who was wearing sneakers, not nearly enough to solve the crime but it was a good start. The ring clearly belonged to a woman and I indeed considered at one point writing it off as useless to us. However, after advertising in the paper and getting a call about the ring, the game was on. I knew that the killer was unlikely to come, but an accomplice might. I gave chase after the woman made off, though she turned out to be wearing a holosuit. In truth, had I not taken those children into my employ, we may not have not been so lucky. I rang the cab company, asking for the driver of the cab and they told me. The children set about to bring the driver to us, so not to arouse his suspicion of being caught out. This would only have caused the driver to panic and likely flee, and I tell you Watson, a man like he could vanish quickly if he wanted to. The thing that truly made me curious about the cab driver that drove the associate, was when Lestrade described the other suspect as being a bald man climbing up to the second floor window of the private hotel. I remembered the cab driver was bald and thought it curious. The rest of the case fell into place along the way. I also should say I found it curious the killer had killed a Mormon, and I wondered whether it was of any relevance. Lestrade confirmed the second victim was also a Mormon, so I knew there had to be a connection. This was a murder about religion. Lucy was forbidden to marry Jefferson because it was against Lucy’s religion to marry outside her faith. Jefferson became angry when Drebber forced Lucy to marry him, and she died within months of a broken heart. Drebber’s associate, Strangerson killed Lucy’s father. Jefferson vowed revenge against the two of them, hunting them across the globe until he found them here. He invented this game of sorts where they would have to choose between a harmless pill and a poison pill, Jefferson taking the other. Drebber played the game, taking the poison pill, the scent of the alkaloid was upon his lips though at the time I did not recognize the scent. Strangerson did not take the pill, resorting to self defence and getting stabbed in the heart. The two untaken tablets were discovered by Lestrade, left there by the killer. This told me the killer was done and was revealing his methods to us. The game ends..” Holmes concluded, sighing as he fell back into his chair.
“And that’s simple to you?” I asked and Holmes smiled.
“Simple enough, Watson.” Holmes replied, rising from the chair and making for his bedroom.
“It might make for a good book" Holmes said finally before vanishing into his bedroom, shutting out the light and no doubt falling asleep.
PART TWO
“CASE OF THE WOLF"
CHAPTER NINE: THE FULL MOON
Exactly three weeks and four days had passed since Holmes and I had assisted with the murder case which had begun on Brixton Road, and for three weeks there had been no calls or requests for myself or Sherlock Holmes. The pair of us had taken some time off, which was wonderful for me but seemed rather painful for Holmes, who had resorted mostly to idle napping and wallowing in self pity.
Honestly, the truth is you don’t truly know a man until you have come to live with him for a while. In most cases, you will catch glimpses of his various habits and idiosyncrasies, but only with time does his true nature begin to reveal itself. Holmes has done many strange things over the past few weeks, not including giving a granted nearly dead, but still living dog a toxic drug that could quite reasonably have sent it to an early grave.
Since that day, he had played ridiculous pieces on his violin at early hours of the morning and constructed a small village entirely out of cheese. He informed me that he was trying to create a crime scene from the past and recall the scene exactly to the last detail. I might have seen this rather odd reconstruction as clever, perhaps even entertaining if it weren’t for the fact that when I came upon it, the cheese had gone
off and the smell was most foul.
