by David Marcum
Shrubb nodded, “Yes, why?”
“Your brother wasn’t used to failure, I think. He studied the city and chose the best locations for these developments - hence his detailed volumes of property transactions and locations in London. A well-versed man in that field, I would presume.”
“Yes. He was the educated one. He found the properties and I organised the workmen and ran the operation.”
“So, his latest venture was to revitalise parts of Regents Park, with the view of establishing residencies for the officers of the nearby Regents Park Barracks and the new garrisons that will be moving there soon.”
“We had already convinced most of the residents to depart, and were almost ready to demolish.”
“But one held out.”
“Yes. Mrs. Bell wouldn’t sell. Even when we made a higher offer than to any other resident.”
Holmes held up the iron key.
“And that’s what drove your brother to purloin this key and gain access to the Bell residence when he believed all to be away.”
“How dare you besmirch my brother’s good name!” said Aubrey as he stepped towards Holmes.
Lestrade intercepted him and posed a question of Holmes. “How can you be sure that Shrubb took that key from the Bell residence?” he asked.
“When we arrived, we noticed that there were only two keys on the rack near the front door. Professor Bell has told us that there was a third which seems to have gone missing. Mr. Shrubb was found inside the house when all occupants had left. I would say that his claim that the door was unlocked was a fantasy. With this key, he could have entered from the front or back, as both doors use the same lock.”
“Why did he break in?” asked Lestrade.
“Ah, well, that’s where I must presume a little, until of course more evidence is unearthed that proves me incorrect. The sticking point of the sale of the house was Professor Bell’s residency at the University College. His mother would not have them move. The facts as they stand point to Mr. Shrubb entering the house with the express purpose of removing one of the venomous reptiles and probably placing it in Mrs. Bell’s bedroom.”
“Preposterous!” said Aubrey.
“Possibly, but if Mr. Shrubb could cause a ruction between mother and son because of the reptile collection, then he may have thought he could convince Mrs. Bell to sell up.”
“Yes, Mother is proud of my work, but she doesn’t like my collection,” said Julius.
“But that lizard bit him. It’s obviously vicious and,” Aubrey pointed at Julius, “he is responsible!”
The professor looked shocked at the accusation. “I would never-” he started before Holmes cut him off.
“You have no need to apologise, Professor Bell, I have seen the lizard in question and it is a somewhat sedentary beast. Can you explain to us how and why the Gila Monster in question would act the way it did?”
Julius Bell’s posture changed completely as his professional stature was called upon.
“The Gila Monster, especially the male that I possess, is rather slow and sluggish. They generally don’t attack unless provoked.”
“If someone were to pick one up, would that be enough to elicit an attack?”
“Possibly, especially if it was handled roughly. A Gila Monster will bite and latch on for dear life then thrash around until they subdue their pray,” Julius said, “That was how I found Mr. Shrubb. My lizard had bitten him on the wrist and clamped its mouth shut with some force. I had to remove it with a stick.”
“But it wouldn’t attack unless picked up or moved?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
I felt I had to step in and clarify things. “So, what you’re saying is that Mr. Shrubb stole a key from the Bell’s household, and then came back when they were away and tried to pick up a venomous lizard to put it in Mrs. Bell’s bedroom, but was himself bitten.”
“Precisely. We already heard from the maid that the cases are rarely opened fully, so the lizard had to be extricated from its confinement, which probably aggravated it enough to attack,” said Holmes.
“That doesn’t excuse this man!” said Aubrey Shrubb, pointing at the professor. “He kept dangerous reptiles in his house, waiting to leap on unsuspecting victims and kill them.”
“Yes,” said Lestrade, “Regardless of whether Mr. Shrubb entered illegally, he was still killed by the professor’s lizard, which is manslaughter under the eyes of the law.”
“Ah, but did the lizard kill him? What say you, Professor?”
“As I explained to the police, it’s simply not possible for my Gila Monster to inject enough poison into a man of Mr. Shrubb’s size to kill him. Even if he had ingested the entire poison sack, he would simply have been rendered prostrate for a matter of hours and lethargic for a good week.”
“Quite so. That was also my estimation. If the neurotoxic poison of the lizard didn’t kill him, we should then look at the treatment,” Holmes turned and addressed me directly. “Watson, of the doctor’s use of strychnine in treating the lizard’s venom?”
Searching my memories, I stated, “Strychnine is itself a poison, but like many poisons when administered in small doses acts as a stimulant. I’ve never come across its use in this way, but I would assume it is used to stimulate the nervous system to counteract the retardation effect of the neurotoxin.”
“Exactly. And what of cocaine?”
“Again, another stimulant. The two together would engender an extremely vigorous reaction from the heart and respiratory system.” I clicked my fingers as the penny dropped. “By God, Holmes! I see where you are going.”
Lestrade looked as lost, as always. “What are you suggesting?”
I continued, “The dual actions of the strychnine and cocaine on a man of Mr. Shrubb’s size would have put such a strain on his heart that it would have seized, if not burst.”
“And as I found out in the morgue, Mr. Hyram Shrubb was a very habitual cocaine user, with many injection marks in his left forearm.”
Holmes pointed at the syringe.
“I’m sure that if we test the contents of that syringe, it will be a very highly concentrated dose of cocaine. I would presume that Mr. Shrubb was in intense pain from the lizard bite and mixed himself what he thought a heavy dose of pain relief, but to his poor luck, turned out to contain the seeds of his own demise.”
Aubrey Shrubb stepped forward and said, “Are you saying that my brother accidentally did it all to himself?”
“Yes. Through his actions, your brother paid the ultimate price.”
Holmes turned to Lestrade. “I would think that the death should be put down to misadventure. I’m sure that the Bells would be most happy to remain out of any further enquiries.”
Lestrade nodded and gave Aubrey Shrubb a look of contempt which made the taller brother shrink back. “I’ll do that, but I’ll be making some notes about the practices of Shrubb Brothers for future reference.”
He turned and stormed out.
Aubrey Shrubb looked apologetically at Professor Bell and tentatively held out his hand. The professor took it in his own and gave it a perfunctory shake.
“No hard feelings, I hope,” said Shrubb, “I can only apologise for my brother’s actions, but can assure you I knew nothing about them.”
Julius eyed him with suspicion before begrudgingly nodding his acceptance and turning to leave.
“Professor,” Holmes said.
Bell turned and saw Holmes holding the iron key.
“Yours, I believe,” he said.
The professor walked over and took the key, saying, “Thank you, Mr. Holmes. I can’t tell you how much that I’m in your debt. I’m sure my mother has made some recompense offer, but I would be prepared to increase whatever it was.”
Holmes smiled, “
No need for that. This has been a most interesting day and has broken the monotony with much verve. There is only one reward I would be most interested in seeking.”
“Name it, sir, please.”
“I would love to return to your reptile room and discuss all things herpetological with you, at your leisure.”
The professor’s face lit up with glee.
“Oh, any time, sir, any time! I would also be delighted for you to attend my lectures at the University College whenever you have the time. From what I’ve seen and heard today, I believe that there are things I can indeed learn from you.”
“I’m sure we can both benefit,” said Holmes, “I will check my calendar and take you up on your offer.”
Still beaming, the professor pocketed the key, turned on his heel, gave one last desultory look at Shrubb, and exited.
Shrubb’s face was aghast with all that had happened. He looked around his brother’s room as if every artefact held a level of danger and betrayal in his mind. He finally stepped towards Holmes.
“I am in awe of your deductive skills, sir, and owe you an apology as well. I truly believed that young man meant ill to Hyram. I was possibly blinded by a brother’s love, but now see what Hyram was up to. Sadly, his actions have left me with several terraced houses that serve no purpose in my business - business that I will need to re-examine in case there are other occurrences of this kind.”
He turned, shoulders slumped, and trudged out of the room. I watched his tall figure reduced by bereavement and betrayal and almost felt a touch of sympathy towards him. I told Holmes as much as we stood alone in the dead man’s parlour.
“I wouldn’t be too sad for him, Watson. His pride has been damaged more than anything else. I don’t think the loss of his brother will affect him too much. It’s more the damage to his reputation that worries him. With all that’s happening in this city at the moment, I’m sure a person like Mr. Shrubb will recover and build an empire with a renewed vigour. I just hope he refrains from utilising the devious methods of his kin.”
I leaned back and took down the great index volume to which he referred. Holmes balanced it on his knee, and his eyes moved slowly and lovingly over the record of old cases, mixed with the accumulated information of a lifetime. “... Venomous lizard or gila. Remarkable case, that!”
Dr. John H. Watson - “The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire”
The Bogus Laundry Affair
by Robert Perret
The Foreign Office had rewarded Holmes handsomely after a bit of diplomatic business in Woking, and so it was that he had spent the better part of a month loitering around Baker Street. I have had no small part in making the public aware of the fruits of Sherlock Holmes’s prodigious industry, but he spent as much time in the valleys of exertion as he did at the peaks. He had thus languished in a blue cloud of tobacco smoke, calling for tea to be brought to the divan and toast to be brought to the settee. We were just reaching the tipping point I often feared, where his torpor would trickle into ennui and the needle would follow, and so I was much heartened when a constable appeared in the doorway to fetch us to Inspector Lestrade.
Holmes waved the policeman away. “If it were anything of interest, Lestrade would have come himself.”
“He is detaining a caravan and refuses to leave it,” the constable said.
“Why ever not?” Holmes sighed. “Surely such a task is a particular speciality of patrolmen such as yourself.”
“He doesn’t trust anyone else to do it, on account of there is no cause, sir.”
“Lestrade is detaining a tradesman without cause?”
“Inspector Lestrade believes there should be cause, sir, but there isn’t. That’s why he requests your presence, Mr. Holmes - in order to find it.”
“ ‘The Case of the Lost Cause’, Watson. I’m afraid it is over before it begins.”
“Why not, Holmes?” I said. “If it is nothing, you get to tweak Lestrade’s nose. If it is something, all the better.”
“I suppose.”
“You’ll come then?” asked the constable.
With a melodramatic sigh, Holmes stood from his seat and systematically stretched each muscle until he was as limber as a prize fighter. While this went on, I donned my own coat and hat and held Holmes’s at the ready. I had expected a carriage outside, but instead we were led on foot, the constable unerringly choosing the most sinister alley, the most forbidding passage, the most forsaken common, and soon we were deep within a London that I had never seen. The buildings were ramshackle piles of bricks and boards peppered with grim faces peering from the darkness within. Refuse seemed to grow like a mold upon the place, and living ghouls shuffled about, now gawking silently at the interlopers. It was as savage as the wilds of Afghanistan and it was less than a mile from where I lay blissfully next to my wife each night. My hand drifted to my pocket, but I had not anticipated the need to bring my Webley. I reconsidered the constable, but found little hope that he could protect us should these people become violent.
Ahead, I heard the familiar bellowing of Lestrade, and when we turned one last corner we saw him standing knee-deep in a pile of clothes which appeared to have spilled from the back of the caravan. A scrawny fellow paced back-and-forth while protesting to Lestrade his right to conduct legal trade. Two more men of remarkable stature stood silently in the background. They turned towards us with the blank eyes of sharks as we approached. Normally, toughs like these would be wound up for a fight, but these two seemed completely indifferent to our presence. In their pugnacious assessment, we did not rate as a threat, and I was forced to agree with them. This expedition had gone very poorly, and I silently assigned much of the blame to Lestrade, who had drawn us into this sinister tableau without consideration or warning.
“Mr. Holmes at last!” Lestrade cried. “Will you look at this? Do you see?”
“There is nothing to see, Inspector,” I said. “It is just laundry.”
“Precisely!” exclaimed Lestrade.
“Did you expect to find something else when you waylaid a laundry van?” Holmes asked, prodding at a pile of cast-off garments with the toe of his boot.
“Don’t play coy with me, Mr. Holmes,” Lestrade said. “If I can see it, you can too.”
“See what?” I said. Our presence seemed to have renewed the interest of local denizens, and we were slowly being hemmed in by the gathering crowd.
“The laundry!” Lestrade said.
“Yes, Inspector, we all see the lovely laundry.” I said. “Well done. Perhaps it is time to put in for a holiday.”
“Don’t be too hasty, Watson,” Holmes said.
“You think there is something to this, Holmes?”
My friend shrugged. “You know my methods.”
I could feel dozens of pairs of eyes watching me now. I cleared my throat and drew myself up before stepping through the cast-off clothing with as much dignity as I could muster. I walked ‘round the carriage, kicking the wheels and buffing the painted name on the side with my cuff. I took the cart horse’s head within my hands and examined its muzzle, as if that would tell me something. While it was true that I was playing for time in hopes the solution would leap to my mind, I was also watching the disreputable men who had been arguing with Lestrade. It was a feint I had seen Holmes use many times - poking and prodding in hopes of provoking a reaction from the criminal. The small man simply sneered and his comrades remained stoic in the face of my investigation. I walked around the far side of the cart and finally looked inside. It was a largely open space with shelves lining the sides, and a simple plank for a bench at the extreme end. It appeared that Lestrade had done a through job of dumping the van’s contents out on the rutted street.
“Everything seems to be in order, aside from the laundry itself being upset,” I said.
“Indeed, I’m afraid t
he quality of the laundering puts our own habiliment to shame.” Holmes picked up a shirt and brought it close to his face.
“I believe our charwoman is thick as thieves with Mrs. Hudson, so there’s little hope on that front.”
“At the same time, Mrs. Eddels is quite discreet and circumspect, which suits me better than a pristine collar. There is another reason why this laundry is remarkable.”
Following Holmes’s lead, I plucked a white cloth from the ground, which turned out to be a lady’s underbodice. Fighting back a slight blush which I knew would win Holmes’s contempt, I held it up to examine it. It was so flawless as to be practically new, though I did detect a faint scent of lye. I continued staring at the delicate thing, my mind churning for any useful observation that I might offer.
“It’s not anything about the laundry!” Lestrade bellowed. “It is that it is here at all! Do you think any of these blighters is paying for first-class laundry service?”
Indeed, most of those watching us were in filthy tatters and rags.
“I say!” I turned toward the small man, who was now twitching. “Where were you taking these things?”
“My clientele list is private!”
The two hulking men had now developed the clenched posture I most associated career thugs. Lestrade had been onto something.
“I’ve yet to see the laundry cart manned by three,” Holmes said.
“I need protection in places like this,” the small man said.
“If your business was legitimate, it would be cheaper and easier to avoid this kind of place altogether,” Holmes said. “Finally, I’ve never seen a launderer dressed so poorly.”
“Indeed?” asked Lestrade.
“For in that trade, the commission is also the collateral. Within a matter of months, any practitioner will have developed a most enviable wardrobe from those items left behind or left unpaid for.”
