by DAN MONTY
“Agreed!” Holmes said finally and I offered him a puzzled look.
“I see, so you agree that a werewolf could not have done this? I thought you told Lestrade...” I started but Holmes moved away from the viewfinder of his microscope, looking at me.
“...I told Lestrade the facts I had deduced based on the evidence I had at hand. Do I believe a werewolf in fact committed this murder? No of course not. We are however meant to think one did. Ergo, we have concluded that neither one of us believe in werewolves, that is fact. That said, dear Watson, the evidence we have thus far discovered has painted us a picture that a lesser mind might be lead to believe otherwise. All signs point to an animal attack; the vicious bites, far too big for a human mouth and teeth far too Sharp. The stride matches that of a running wolf and even the evidence of the killer thrashing the limb in its mouth left to right points this towards being an animal attack. The description of the creature from the girls matched perfectly the description given to us by Mrs Hudson, therefore one must conclude that our killer is a wolf like beast that is covered in black fur, abnormally tall with a ferocious stride and razor sharp claws, the claw marks certainly support that.” Holmes said, removing the slide from under the microscope and holding it to me.
“All of the evidence might make it seem likely we are dealing with an animal attack, except for this. This is not animal hair, nor is the saliva!” Holmes said.
“Not animal hair? What do you mean? What is it?” I asked and Holmes smiled.
“Acrylic and polyvinyl chloride. It’s synthetic! Man made! Whoever the killer is, you can rest well knowing he is in fact wearing a costume, my dear Watson. My suspicions were correct. The only useful piece of evidence in the wallet aside from the victim’s ID pointed to a business card of a company called MYFX Studios. The two girls said the victim had recently started showing up around the area, which tells us that it’s highly probable the man only recently became homeless. Prior to that he was staying at The Green Man hostel, suggesting for at least a time, he had little money. Our victim was in his fifties, possibly closing in on retirement, but I’d wager he was fired. The faux hair on the body was comprised of materials a special effects company might use. I believe our killer might have been an associate of our victim, and I believe our killer has something to do with special effects. Namely, MYFX Studios, 106 Edgeware road Paddington. That will be our next destination!” Holmes exclaimed and returned his attention to the microscope.
*****
By three in the afternoon of the seventeenth of June, Holmes and I were in a cab bound for Paddington. Our cab landed safely on the ground outside a large chrome building at 106 Edgeware road, the home of MYFX Studios. The two of us passed through the revolving doors of the massive building, stepping into a large foyer which featured three elevators, a sitting area and a small reception desk. Holmes and I walked up to the desk.
“Can I help you?” A petit woman at the desk asked and Holmes stepped forward.
“Yes, I would like to speak to the manager here please. It’s a matter of utmost importance!” Holmes insisted. The woman looked up at him only mildly interested and I noticed that she was noisily chewing on a mouthful of gum.
“Do you have an appointment?” The woman asked and Holmes frowned.
“I do not" he replied and the woman nodded, her face stony and expressionless.
“You need an appointment. Mr Barker is a very busy man.” The woman said, rolling her eyes. Holmes sighed and tapped his hands on the desk.
“I’m his doctor. It’s about his cholesterol. I’m afraid I must be allowed to speak with him at once!” I insisted. I was not entirely sure what had prompted such swift actions from me, but Holmes nodded at me in thanks.
“Okay, well Mr Barker is in a meeting right now, but you can go on up. Level twenty three, MYFX Studios. First door on the right.” She said and I nodded my head respectfully.
“Thank you.” I said and I lead Holmes over to the elevators.
“You are quite useful sometimes, Dr Watson" Holmes said quietly and I smiled.
“I have my moments.” I replied as we stepped into the elevator, pressing the number 23.
Upstairs, we took a right coming out of the elevator and stepped through the door marked MYFX.
In the next room, a man in his forties was yelling at his secretary who was crying. Holmes and I stood there watching and listening to the commotion.
“... I don’t care if he was your friend, the guy was a weirdo! Stole it right off my desk! That’s why I fired those other two losers! I have no room for idiots in this business! I’ve got major jobs coming in for big Hollywood films, and these idiots can’t even respect my property!” The man said, turning to look at Holmes and I.
“What the hell do you two want?” The man asked us aloud.
“Mr Barker, I presume?” Holmes asked and the man nodded.
“Yes, yes, what do you want?” Mr Barker asked and Holmes sighed.
“I’m sorry to say that Basil Borthwick has been found dead this morning. He was an employee of yours, yes?” Holmes asked and Mr Barker calmed down.
“You better come into my office" the man said, leading us into his office and closing the door. Holmes and I sat in the two vacant chairs in front of his desk. Barker sat behind his desk.
There were several posters on the walls of monster movies, both Holmes and I took note of a poster for a film called Wolf by night, the name Brandon Chase over the top. It had a horrific drawing of a werewolf on it. There was also a water cooler of filtered water and cups. The desk was scattered with papers and there was a full ash tray being used as a paper weight.
“Basil Borthwick! Yeah I knew him. He was one of my prosthetic costume designers. He was one hell of a designer too, been in the business for thirty years. Got his start designing robotic limbs.” Barker said and Holmes nodded.
“Yet you fired him?” Holmes asked and Barker shrugged.
“So what? I fired a lot of people lately! We had to make some cutbacks. Trim the fat, that sort of thing. Besides, he was getting old and coming in hungover. I don’t have time for that sort of thing.” Barker replied.
“Did he have any enemies? Anyone that he might have made angry?” Holmes asked and Barker shrugged.
“Everyone hated him. He had a reputation for being a bit of a bastard. He used to yell at some of the younger builders. One of them I fired because they got into a bit of a scuffle... ah Mason his name was. Mason Sternwick. Yeah, he was screaming at Basil for stealing his ideas. Dumb kid! I fired him the next day! Brought a new guy on. He’s taken over the werewolf movie suit design.” Barker said.
“Could I trouble you for a cup of water? I’m quite parched" Holmes said and Barker nodded. He walked over to the water machine, grasping a cup and filling it will cool water before passing it to Holmes, who smiled graciously, taking a sip.
“Yes, it’s funny you should mention that. Evidence suggests that a werewolf costume was used in the murder of Basil Borthwick. Are all your suits accounted for?” Holmes asked and Barker looked horrified.
“A werewolf suit? That’s impossible! I mean, our suits are scary looking but they aren’t dangerous! Of course they are all accounted for! We keep them in the vault!” Barker insisted.
“Well this suit would have to be very convincing, Mr Barker. In fact, the jaws would need to be able to bite a man’s arm clean off, and I daresay the wearer should be a tall man.” Holmes said and Barker laughed.
“That’s absurd! I mean the suit would have to be modified to have real teeth... who would do such a thing?” Barker asked and Holmes leaned forward.
“It is conceivable though, is it not? That one of your employees could develop a prosthetic costume with metal arms and razor sharp teeth? Who could wear such a suit, Mr Barker? Tell me. Who could design such a beastly apparatus?” Holmes demanded and Barker wiped sweat from his brow.
“Mason Sternwick! He might be crazy enough to do it. He was one of the suit designers, they w
ere built with stilts in the legs. He’s a young guy, quite short but... He has the brains!” Barker exclaimed.
“And where can we find this Mason Sternwick?” Holmes asked and Barker sighed.
“Last I heard he was staying at the same hostel as Borthwick. I wasn’t told the address.” Barker said and Holmes stood up from the chair.
“Thank you, Mr Barker.” Holmes said and we left the office, walking to the elevator.
“So, bound for the hostel I suppose?” I asked as Holmes sipped from his cup of water.
“Later. Let’s return to Baker street first. The day has been long" Holmes said.
I worried that Holmes might be feeling a tad unwell and then I remembered he had been quite lethargic of late, feeling depressed and almost eating himself to death out of boredom. I agreed it might be wise to call it a day.
CHAPTER TWELVE: MASON STERNWICK
Holmes was relatively quiet that night, messing about with his microscope and conducting what he referred to as ‘much needed research’. It seemed we had at least one suspect now at least and Holmes felt there was no need yet to rush and knock on the gentleman’s door.
“Mason Sternwick could easily be our man, Holmes! He had a fight with Borthwick, and he was working on the werewolf suit as well! I swear to you, something is amiss with that man, and we haven’t even met him yet! We also know that height makes no difference to who wears the suit, as the suit is stilted. He'd just need strong legs.” I said as I read about the murder in the paper, the bold headline on the front page reading “A WEREWOLF IN LONDON!”, which reminded me of the classic film of the same name.
“You could very well be right, Watson. Unfortunately, all theories must be considered. What does the paper say?” Holmes asked and I stifled a laugh.
“That Scotland Yard Police are utterly baffled and have no idea what to make of it. The press is having a field day with this case! Scotland Yard are being made out to look like idiots!” I replied and Holmes laughed.
“So, it’s just another day then?” Holmes remarked sarcastically. I had to admit, the yard were rarely put in the good light until Holmes solved their problems and allowed them to take all the credit.
I folded up the paper and yawned loudly. It was about eleven pm and I was tired, not to mention the fact that my leg had been acting up again from all the running around I had been doing. I decided to turn in.
“Well, I’m off to bed! Good night Holmes.” I said and Holmes waved without turning away from his microscope. I sighed and made my way upstairs.
*****
The following morning, I awoke to Holmes playing a beautiful piece on the violin. An Irish number called swallowtail jig. His bow sped over the strings as he tapped his foot and I walked downstairs to see him playing, tapping his foot on the carpet as he moved from side to side. As he came to the end of the number, he slid his bow back and forth slowly, drawing out the final note as the bow created an odd vibrating sound on the violin. Back and forth he dragged the bow, the sound becoming eerie as it was sustained. He stopped playing and turned to me.
“What was that? At the end? You were doing so well, but the note at the end sounded... odd" I said and Holmes nodded falling into his chair.
“That, dear Watson was known as a wolf; a sustained, sympathetic artificial overtone that expands and amplifies the frequencies of a note. To many it is known as a design flaw or factory imperfection, but in truth it matters not how much one spends on an instrument, a wolf will follow you, no matter the quality of the stringed instrument. If the occasional notes are poor in response, it does not mean the instrument has an imperfection. In this case though, it was deliberate. I found it somewhat poetic to have a wolf follow my tune. I trust you slept well?” Holmes asked and I sighed.
“Yes. Yes I slept well.” I replied, still trying to get my head around the wolf note.
“Wonderful! For we have work in Paddington!” Holmes said finally.
*****
Our cab landed at 308 Edgeware road Paddington, the home of the hostel known as The Green Man. It was a small and very old white building with a pub on the lower floor and a hostel above it. The rooms were two star and relatively small, but affordable for travelling backpackers new to the sprawling London cityscape. It was dwarfed by the surrounding towering skyscrapers, but the old place had hung in there somehow over the centuries, only making minor adjustments to its interior in the last hundred or so years. It also provided cheap accommodation for men like Mason Sternwick who had recently found himself unemployed.
We knocked on room three of the hostel and a short, thin man answered. Mason was perhaps forty or so, his hair blue and his face pale. His clothing was somewhat juvenile; a ratty pair of denim jeans that were full of holes, a Sex Pistols t-shirt and leather jacket. I felt overdressed in my pressed, grey suit, but Holmes was quite comfortable in his long black coat which blew behind him in the draft.
“Yes?” Mason asked and Holmes looked the lad up and down.
“Mason Sternwick? We would like to talk to you about the death of your colleague, Basil Borthwick,” Holmes said and Mason’s face fell.
The three of us sat together at a table in the pub downstairs. Mason seemed shy and somewhat agitated, an observation of my own I knew Holmes would already have noticed.
“Basil was an idiot! He never could come up with ideas of his own. The werewolf was my design, not his. I went up to him one day and he’d copied my design almost completely! Old fool! I swore to him that if I saw him again I’d kick the crap out of him. I didn’t kill him though, honest! He wasn’t a bad guy. I mean he was a prick and he pinched the bosses lighter after he got fired to stick it to him, but no one really hated him. He didn’t do drugs, didn’t smoke... He got stuck into the booze a bit but who doesn’t?” Mason asked and Holmes nodded.
“Your boss said he had to fire you both over a fight?” Holmes asked and Mason nodded.
“Yeah. Old Jack Barker wasn’t doing it until recently but he doesn’t like anyone mucking about at work, you know? Lately though he’s been acting... different. He takes this werewolf stuff too seriously. He’s obsessed. He fires people all the time now. Hell he fired Basil because he knew Basil was brilliant. He hated that. Stress must’ve got to him too, he only recently started smoking.” Mason added, rolling his eyes and checking his watch.
The door to the pub opened and Detective Tobias Gregson entered, walking over to the table where they all sat.
“Ah! Mason Sternwick I presume! You’ve got a lot to answer for, lad! I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with me!” Gregson said and Holmes looked at Gregson.
“On what charge?” Holmes asked and Gregson smiled.
“Honestly, Holmes! You’re getting slow in your years, mate. This one is our mysterious werewolf! We spoke to a Mr. Jack Barker at MYFX Studios! This bloke is wanted for questioning in the murder of one Basil Borthwick!” Gregson exclaimed, bringing Mason to his feet and handcuffing him.
“That’s ridiculous! I didn’t kill Basil! You stupid bastard!” Mason yelled and Gregson smiled, shoving the man against the wall.
“Come quietly, lad! We wouldn’t want to have to make a scene now, would we?” Gregson asked, nodding at Holmes as he ushered the man out of the hostel pub and into his waiting cruiser.
Holmes and I watched as Gregson’s police vehicle rose from the street and flew off towards Scotland Yard. I turned to Holmes and sighed.
“Well my old friend, looks like Gregson has the upper hand this time. It’s going to be hard for him to prosecute though. Even we didn’t get any evidence!” I said and Holmes nodded.
“Actually Watson, I know exactly who killed this man and believe me when I tell you, I have acquired all the evidence I need" Holmes replied to my astonishment.
*****
Back at home, Holmes and I were seated in our sitting room on our chairs. We drank tea as Holmes finally let me in on what he had come to learn.
“The case was slightly more difficult to pi
ece together than I first suspected it might be. There was little evidence, and few suspects. However, I managed to solve the puzzle quite quickly when I set my mind to it. It all began at the crime scene when I came upon some valuable pieces of evidence. The bottle I thought would be useful, so I took a fingerprint from it. Sadly, I was able to determine that the print on the bottle did in fact belong to the victim, yet hope was not lost. The hair I found seemed unlike true hair, so with the help of my microscope I was able to determine that it was in fact faux hair. There was however another piece of valuable information. The Zippo lighter. Now, while it’s not at all uncommon for a homeless person to have a cigarette lighter on his person, Mason Sternwick was able to bring to my attention that Basil Borthwick did not in fact smoke. The reason I put the question to him I shall get to in a moment. First, do you recall my asking Mr Barker for some water?” Holmes asked and I nodded.
“Yes, I was worried you were feeling unwell. You seemed in rare form!” I said and Holmes nodded.
“Indeed I was, Watson but not for the reasons I might assume you’d suspect. You see, when the water was passed to me I drank it as I left the building, though I did not throw away the cup. I needed it. When Barker stood up I noticed something most queer about the fellow, but firstly, allow me to explain the question of the smoking I put to Mason. When I came upon the body of Basil Borthwick, I noticed he had on his person a Zippo lighter. Now Mason has told us Basil did not smoke, but I happened to notice a full ash tray on the desk in the office of Jack Barker, whom Mason just informed us recently started smoking. Last night I was up until late hours of the night comparing the prints on the lighter, to the prints I pulled successfully from the cup which contained my water. There were two sets of prints on the lighter, one set indeed belonging to Basil Borthwick, the other belonging to Jack Barker. When we arrived at MYFX, Mr Barker was engaged in a dispute with his secretary. He wasn’t just angry, he was upset because he couldn’t find his lighter. He was desperate to find it, though Basil had stolen it off his desk to stick it to him the day he was fired. Of course had he checked the pocket of Basil after killing him, he may have found it!” Holmes said.
