by David Marcum
The smaller man tried to shake him off. “Let me be! What right have you - ?”
“I have every right. Inspector Lestrade! Police! Now calm down, and let’s see if this can’t be discussed like gentlemen.”
The man gave one more shake of his arm, firmly in Lestrade’s grip, and then seemed to release his anger as if turning loose of a rope. He relaxed into a defeated slump, and Lestrade freed him. “Here,” said the inspector, “what’s your name?”
“Bouchard,” said the American, sullenly. “William White Bouchard.”
“Well, Mr. Bouchard, I don’t know what your disagreement is with Mr. Green, here, but violence is no way to settle it.”
“You’re a policeman, you say?” countered Bouchard. He gestured toward Green. “Then arrest this man. He has defrauded me, and I will not stand for it!”
“Careful, my friend,” drawled Green, his eyes half-shut. “That’s slander, you know. That statement, in front of witnesses, might be enough for me to take everything you have.”
Holmes smiled and said, “I don’t think it would be as cut-and-dried as all that.”
Green glanced toward Holmes, and then seemed to truly see him for the first time. A look of recognition widened his eyes.
“Sherlock Holmes, isn’t it?” he said. He stepped forward suddenly. “It is! You’re just the man to settle this! I want to hire you!”
Holmes laughed. “For what, Mr. Green? I’m a consulting detective, not a solicitor or bookkeeper. I’m afraid a tedious case of possible fraud, or a defense against such a charge, is of little interest to me.” His eyes glanced over the two men, and then toward the smaller fellow lurking behind them.
Bouchard also took a step closer, an interested expression on his face. “It’s more than that, Mr. Holmes. I didn’t mean what I said about Green, here. What you observed was the result of a great deal of stress creating friction between two old friends.”
“He’s right,” added Green. “Our circus may be small, but we’ve always been very successful. That is, until recently. There have been a series of accidents-”
“It’s more than that,” interjected Bouchard. “There have been deliberate attempts to drive us out of business!”
I could tell that Holmes was becoming intrigued. “What sort of attempts?”
“We had a fire a few weeks ago,” said Green, “not long after we set up here along the Thames. It destroyed a tent and also one of the supply wagons. Since then, equipment used in performances has been found broken in ways that could have only been intentional. Just last week, one of the animals in our menagerie, Walter the Lion, was poisoned to death in a most horrible and painful way. None of these things are enough in themselves to drive us out of business, but circus folk are a superstitious lot, and the word has spread quickly through our little family that we might be unlucky.”
The inspector barked a short laugh, causing Holmes to state, “That is a very real concern among circus people, Lestrade. One whiff that there is something wrong with the enterprise, and the performers will flee to a different operation that is considered more safe and acceptable.”
“Exactly, Mr. Holmes,” said Bouchard. “We’ve been quite successful until now, having recently completed a very profitable tour throughout northern England. It was only after we arrived here, at this site, that our luck seemed to change. It’s amazing how quickly the feelings amongst the performers can shift from a sense of safety and stability to one of unease. We were once like a family, but now my partner and I are being looked upon as enemies.”
“If you are both concerned that the incidents are part of an attempt to drive you out of business, then what was the conversation that we interrupted, in which you, Mr. Bouchard, were accusing Mr. Green of cheating you? I believe that you mentioned that the lease for the Wheel was ‘the last straw’?”
Bouchard looked uncomfortable, but replied, “I was angry, and take back what I said about being cheated. But the fact is that the lease for this poor man’s Ferris Wheel was negotiated without my knowledge. Following our last stop in Easingwold, I traveled down to Colchester for a few days to visit with a friend who has been ill. During that time, the circus was packed up and moved here, as planned. We’ve negotiated an open-ended arrangement with the owners of this property, who had no objections to our setting up here, as it has been vacant land since a fire destroyed several buildings last year, or so I understand.
“While I was away, Mr. Green was approached by the gentleman who built this wheel that you see behind us, offering to lease it at an exorbitant rate-”
“It is not exorbitant!” interrupted Green, showing more emotion than I had seen from him since our arrival. “Our business has doubled - even tripled or quadrupled! - since we installed the London Wheel. Word of mouth alone, as people share the fact that one can obtain a new and different view of London, a bird’s-eye view as it were, will only continue to increase our visitors.”
I had my doubts that the Wheel, considerably smaller than the Great Wheel at Earls Court, would provide any sort of bird’s eye view of the capital, or even of nearby Westminster across the river. Green continued, “If we hadn’t begun to have other difficulties, you would never have complained about the lease.”
“Not true!” countered Bouchard. “I do not believe that we should be turning away from what has made our circus so successful over the years, in favor of mechanical contraptions that cause a mere momentary sensation, only to quickly leave the patron jaded and expecting some other machine to provide and even bigger and better thrill. There is nothing wrong with traditional circus acts, thrilling feats of skill and danger, and the possibility of something new and unexpected in each and every performance!”
I glanced at Holmes, watching the argument with some amusement. “This wheel is the future!” stated Green, his voice rising, taking a step toward his partner.
“Such a device is beneath us,” countered Bouchard. “We’ve had great success for years with a traditional circus, featuring traditional performers. But you, my friend, had your head turned by talk of doubling our business. You made the arrangements to lease Charters’ Wheel without my knowledge or approval, because you knew I would never give it otherwise.”
“Charters?” prodded Holmes.
“Lester Charters,” said Green. “He is the man from whom we leased the Wheel. He built it.”
“As partners, Mr. Bouchard, how was Mr. Green able to make such a deal without your approval?”
“Our arrangement,” said Green, somewhat righteously, with a dark glance toward Bouchard, “is one of trust, allowing us to make decisions without the other’s approval. Granted, this has usually been in the form of hiring or firing performers as needed. When one or the other of us isn’t available, we don’t have to wait on the other to take care of something urgent. In this case, I was able to recognize the opportunity and seize it during the time when my friend was away.”
“You knew I wouldn’t approve!” Bouchard cried. “It cheapens our enterprise to feature such an attraction. Soon, people will only attend circuses to take a turn on machines like this. Traditional performers will be ignored or forgotten. Why bother to have performers at all? We can simply buy a piece of property and erect row upon row of risky automata, each bigger and more dangerous than the last.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?” Green asked grimly.
“What do you know about it?” responded Bouchard. “Your strong suit has never been the business side of things. You didn’t even understand the nature of the lease that you signed. I’ve just returned from a meeting with our solicitor, who explained an interesting clause in the lease agreement that you seem to have missed. And I also found that Charters is the subject of a lawsuit by the Ferris people, as he built this wheel using their design, but without any arrangement or accommodation with them-”
Before he c
ould continue, a rough voice behind us interrupted. “Oi!” It came from a fellow at the front of the line of people waiting to board the wheel. “That fella there doesn’t look well at all.”
The man who spoke was rough-looking, a laborer sporting a billycock pushed back on his brow. Beside him, clutching his arm, was a small woman, clearly his wife. Both of them were looking past us, toward the wheel, and even as I started to turn from them to observe what they had seen, the wife buried her head in her husband’s sleeve with a slight cry.
The small man who had been standing near Green and Bouchard when we first approached had since moved back toward the wheel. He had his hand on a lever, which apparently controlled the machinery driving the great structure. The wheel had stopped so that one of the cars was level with a small ramp, allowing passengers to enter or depart from the carriage seats. Sitting alone in the lowermost of these was a heavy-set man, slumped to one side with his eyes wide and staring.
Pushing past Lestrade, I moved up the ramp. There was a buckled leather strap fastened across the man’s ample waist, no doubt a safety precaution, and I spent a useless few seconds trying to open it before the man at the controls stepped up, his nimble fingers quickly tossing it to one side. I glanced at him, and saw that he was pale with shock. Afterwards, he stepped away, stumbling over his own feet. My quick examination of the man in the carriage, his face horribly contorted, confirmed what I had suspected, and I turned back to my companions.
“This man is dead.”
“Impossible!” cried Green, stepping forward. “He was perfectly fine when he waved to me, not five minutes ago!”
“You know him then?” asked Lestrade. “Who is he?”
“That is Lester Charters,” said Bouchard. “He is the man of whom we have been speaking. It was from him that we leased the Wheel.”
“I stopped it,” said the small man who controlled it, “to let him off. I thought he might want to join in the discussion. But then I saw that he was... was...”
“Doctor,” said Lestrade, glancing back my way, “can you tell how he died?”
“There are no obvious wounds. However, from the red coloring of the skin, the slight foam about the mouth, and the faint smell on his lips, I would venture that there is a possibility, in fact almost a certainty, that this man has been poisoned.”
Holmes raised an eyebrow and moved toward the body, while Lestrade stepped to one side and blew his whistle. Within a moment, a constable had joined him. After receiving a series of terse whispered instructions from the inspector, the constable left us in a hurry.
Above us, men and women in the other carriages were craning their heads, attempting to see what was happening below. The ones immediately above us had apparently heard my diagnosis, for they were passing the news up from car to neighboring car, yelling the words “murder” and “poison” several times. Meanwhile, the crowd on the ground waiting to board the Wheel was pressing forward, while Lestrade attempted to keep them at bay. “Doctor,” he cried. “A bit of assistance, if you don’t mind!”
As Holmes continued his examination, I left him and joined Lestrade, holding my arms wide. As a defense, we would have been quickly overrun, but Lestrade’s authority temporarily asserted itself, and the crowd moved back. Between us and the Wheel, Bouchard and Green stood closely and whispered, casting glances toward the dead man and the crowd in equal measure.
The masses has continued to accumulate as more and more people noticed something unusual was afoot, and wandered that way out of simple curiosity. Lestrade and I were starting to be pressed once again when a clatter of constables’ boots was heard approaching us. Within a moment, the crowd was under control, and soon after was being dispersed.
Lestrade and I rejoined Holmes, while the calls and cries of those above us became more strident. After Holmes stated that there was nothing more to be learned from the carriage itself, we quickly decided to remove the body, thus allowing the other passengers to be released from their temporary bondage.
A pair of constables assisted us in carrying Charters into a nearby tent, while several others corralled the Wheel’s passengers as they disembarked until they could be identified and questioned.
Inside the tent, Holmes called us to the table where the body lay, illuminated by a lantern hanging above it. Turning, he opened his hand to reveal a pair of wrapped candies, along with a great number of similar wrapping papers, now empty.
“These were in Charters’ waistcoat pocket,” he said. “Watson, what do you think?”
I took one of the pieces and looked at the paper, which indicated it was a well-known brand of chocolate-covered almonds. I raised it to my nose. The smell of bitter almonds was very faint, and not what one would expect from a simple candy.
“Cyanide,” I said. “No doubt.”
The empty wrappers also held the same smell. While Lestrade confirmed the fact for himself, Green and Bouchard pressed closer. “That is your favorite candy,” said Bouchard to Green. He looked at Holmes. “He eats them constantly.”
Green glanced at the small American with a sour grimace. “Thank you for that, my friend.” Turning toward Lestrade, he stated, “That is not an unpopular type of candy, Inspector. Surely you don’t believe that I had anything to do with this?”
Lestrade, who had been watching Holmes examine the body, said, “Early days yet, Mr. Green. As you can see, we’re only beginning to gather our facts.”
Holmes sniffed around the dead man’s mouth, and then pulled back the fellow’s lips. Nodding me over, I could see traces of chocolate still around the man’s gums and in the crevices of his teeth. “He must have eaten them very quickly.”
Our examination was interrupted by a commotion at the entrance to the tent. A burly constable pushed his way in, pulling the small man who had been operating the Wheel. “After he let everyone off, I caught this fellow trying to slip away,” he said.
“Here now! What’s your name?” demanded Lestrade, when the slight man was placed before him.
“Edward Meeser,” he replied in uncertain tones, as if he were not sure of the fact.
“One of your employees, gentlemen?”
“Not exactly,” replied Bouchard. “We acquired him, so to speak, when we leased the Wheel. He is an employee of Charters’.”
“Indeed,” said Holmes, joining us after completing his inspection of the dead man. “And what are your duties, Mr. Meeser?”
“Well, as you saw, I run the Wheel. I help load and unload the passengers, and keep track of how long each group has been on it, so as to make sure everyone gets a fair ride. There’s a slow rotation where each car is loaded, and then I run it a spell before stopping it a few minutes later, rotating it slowly again to unload. I make certain there isn’t any horsing around when the Wheel is in motion. And I check the machinery and connections every day as well.”
“You do not look so well,” said Holmes. “Perhaps it is the shock of encountering Mr. Charters’ body?”
Meeser nodded earnestly. “That’s the truth, sir. I never expected to see something like that come around.”
“I understand that Mr. Charters built the Wheel. Can you tell me where his workshop is located?”
“Down Stepney way. In Exmouth Street.”
“And what can you tell me about the accusation that Mr. Charters built the Wheel by using Ferris’s plans without permission?”
The small man’s eyes flashed in anger for just a moment. “Nonsense! This wheel is much better than anything that Ferris ever came up with. Or the one at Earls Court, for that matter. There are a number of improvements with this design that are far more advanced than what has been seen before. The mechanical works alone have many unique improvements that can be applied to a number of other machines.”
Meeser seemed to realize that his passion was unusual for someone in his position, an
d he took a breath and stepped back. “You seem rather defensive of your employer’s work,” said Holmes. “How long have you been associated with Mr. Charters?”
“Just a few months,” he replied. “But I know how much effort went into building this wheel. I can assure you that nothing was stolen or borrowed from any other inventor.”
“Except for the very idea of a giant wheel,” murmured Lestrade, bringing a scowl to Meeser’s face.
“Why was Mr. Charters riding the Wheel today?” asked Holmes. “Surely he’s ridden it before, probably many times.”
“I believe I can answer that, Mr. Holmes,” said Green. “Mr. Charters stops by several times a week to check on the condition of his machinery, and part of that is to see how the Wheel is operating.”
“He just liked to ride it,” muttered Meeser.
“What’s that?” queried Lestrade.
“He always wanted to have a go when he stopped by. No harm in it, was there?”
“Be that as it may,” said Green, “he also visited us regularly to go over the accounts and verify the number of people who ride on the Wheel. Meeser here keeps track of that. Charters’ agreement is to receive a certain percentage of our revenue, based on the number of riders.”
“Ridiculous,” muttered Bouchard. “I would never have agreed to such an arrangement if I had been here.”
“But I did agree to it!” returned Green, his tone threatening to return the two men back to their earlier disagreement.
“You have no idea what you agreed to!” countered his friend.
“Gentlemen, please!” thundered Lestrade, clearly fed up with the both of them.
“This agreement,” said Holmes. “I would like to see it, if possible.”
“Certainly,” said Green, gesturing toward the tent exit. “Right this way. It’s in our office.”
“It’s in my pocket,” countered Bouchard. “I took it to show the solicitor.”
