Snifter of Death

by Chris Karlsen

  “Yes, cook is a treasure. Now, how can I help you?”

  He didn’t offer her a seat, which meant she hadn’t long to make her case. “I’m Esther Zachary’s friend, Calvin Zachary’s widow.”

  “I know of her. We met many years ago.”

  “We’ve been living abroad and only recently returned. She’s learned of Mrs. Cross’s death and wanted to send her condolences to the family. She’s not sure if they still reside at the last address she has for them. We thought you might have the information in the church records, having handled the funeral services.”

  From his inscrutable expression he didn’t believe a word of what she said. If she had a fingernail of hope that he did, it vanished with his hard-eyed scrutiny. He eyed with disdain her bonnet with the faded ribbon, the cheap wool dress, the lace gloves she’d carefully repaired where they’d torn. “What address do you show for the Cross family?” he asked.

  Her mind went completely blank. She knew many streets in several fashionable neighborhoods. She and Mrs. Zachary often took carriage rides around Hyde and Regents Park. Why couldn’t she think of one street? Finally, she blurted the only one that came to her, which was no doubt wrong. “Park Lane.”

  The Vicar smirked. Not smiled. Smirked. That meant it had to be wrong.

  “I suggest you start there. In the meantime, I will have my housekeeper escort you out. I don’t know what you’re playing at but I don’t care for mischief. You’ll do your soul a good turn to drop a coin in the poor box on your way to the street.” He rang a small bell on his desk and the housekeeper came. “See this lady out.”

  Graciela stood on the top stair of the chapel cursing her luck when a man’s disturbingly familiar laugh interrupted her thoughts. She took a quick step to the left and flattened herself against one of the portico pillars. The horrible laugh rippled over from close by. It sounded like Detective Bloodstone’s from the morning she’d bailed out Addy. He’d said something that sent the shine boy scampering away and had all the detectives snickering, including Bloodstone.

  Taking a deep breath, she peered around the edge of the pillar expecting to see the detective. His presence would’ve been the perfect end to this entire St. Jude’s Chapel mission-turned-catastrophe. To her great relief, it came from a carriage driver. She hadn’t noticed a group of them gathered at the corner waiting to be hired. Graciela, you had no reason to be frightened. You’d done nothing wrong. Stop being such a ninny.

  She left the church and headed home. Zachary would be getting up from her nap soon. The whole way home she questioned her luck. A dozen people are murdered every day in London.

  How hard can it be to kill someone?

  Chapter Four

  “Nothing yet, Superintendent,” Ruddy told Henry Jameson, the head of Holborn Station. “I made several drawings of the suspect and handed them out to the constables who worked the area around where the crime occurred. He didn’t look familiar to them or the shopkeepers.”

  “Maybe we’ll get lucky and this unpleasant stocking business will turn out to be an isolated event.”

  “Hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, sir, but King’s Cross station also had a case. These perverts rarely stop at one attack.”

  “Same fellow?” Jameson asked.

  Ruddy nodded. “I made a few drawings for their men to show but no one can identify the man.”

  “Keep trying. You both can leave.”

  Archie and Ruddy left and returned to the bureau.

  Ruddy took two steps and momentarily stopped short. “As I live and breathe...” Hurrying to his desk, he wrapped his brother in a tight bear hug. “I thought we’d lost you to the sub-continent forever.”

  “India might be the ‘jewel in the Queen’s crown’ and I’m happy to take her majesty’s coin to stay there, but I had to come home for a wee time,” Will said when they broke apart.

  “Let me introduce my partner, Archie,” Ruddy said. “Archie, this is my brother, Will.” The two men shook hands. “Let me get you a cup of tea and a chair.”

  Ruddy brought both over to his desk. “How long will you be here?”

  “I’ll only be in London a few days. Then I plan to head on home. I’ll stay on there for a couple of weeks before I go back. I wondered if I might stay with you. If you’ve a spare blanket and pillow, I can stretch out on the floor. I’m trying to save my blunt for when I’m home. I’d also like to buy mum a hat while I’m in London.”

  “Of course you can stay with me. Don’t be silly. You’ll not sleep on the floor. You’ll sleep in my bed while you’re here. I’ve a perfectly fine stuffed chair and ottoman I can make a bed out of.”

  “No—”

  “Stop. No arguing. As for the hat, I happen to know of a hat maker who might give you a nice discount.”

  “Really?” Will looked from Ruddy to Archie and back. “Anything you want to share about this hat maker?”

  “We saw each other socially for a brief time last year. She was widowed then. We parted friends and she’s since remarried. Nothing more.”

  Archie pointed to the insignia on Will’s uniform sleeve. “I know most of the army’s ranking insignias but I’ve never seen that one. What’s your rank, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “I just got promoted. I’m a Sergeant-Major.”

  “Sounds impressive,” Archie said.

  “It’s about as high up as a non-commissioned officer can go,” Ruddy told him. “Congratulations Will. Well done.”

  “Still not a Victoria Cross.” Will turned to Archie. “You know my brother has a V.C.?”

  “More tea?” Ruddy asked, trying to change the subject.

  “I know about the V.C. but he won’t discuss the details much,” Archie told Will.

  Archie was one of Ruddy’s favorite people in the whole world. A police partnership resembled a marriage partnership but neither closeness meant you didn’t consider strangling the other person once in a while. Archie using Will to pry information out of Ruddy about the medal was borderline justifiable homicide.

  “Ruddy, why won’t you talk about it? That’s the biggest honor you can receive from the Queen for your military service,” Will asked.

  “Because it’s not something I wish to boast about, if that’s all right with the two of you. I am not especially proud of getting the V.C. nor am I not proud. It’s something I received for doing what needed to be done.”

  “Which was?” Will said, prodding.

  “Which was?” Archie joined in.

  Ruddy shot Will an unblinking, hard-eyed stare he saved for uncooperative prisoners.

  “Go on then,” Will blithely said.

  Ruddy sighed. “I was in hospital. The Zulus attacked and set the hospital on fire. We all helped each other get out. End of story.”

  Will shook his head and added, “No. There’s more. You were in hospital being treated for yellow fever. You did what you did while in a debilitated state.”

  “How do you know that? I never told Mum and Dad the story behind the medal. Who told you?”

  “The Home Secretary knew you had a brother in the military. He told your Commanding Officer who wrote a letter to mine with the details of the award.”

  “Sirs.” Constable Northam came over. “We might have a lead on the stocking man.”

  “Do tell,” Ruddy said, eagerly waving the young bobby over.

  “A shopkeeper on my patch has a man who just purchased a stack of stockings, different patterns and different colors.”

  Ruddy didn’t see how that was suspicious. “So? The man has a wife who likes variety.”

  “I said the same thing,” Northam said. “The shopkeeper told me the man bought the largest size he sells.”

  “Again, so?” Ruddy wasn’t seeing the issue. “He has a voluptuous wife.”

  “A few minutes later the shopkeeper caught a glimpse of the man taking a pair of the stockings from the box and holding them up to his face and then against his own leg. The shop man thought that odd.
I must say, sir, I do too.”

  Archie looked to Ruddy, wiggled his brows and said, “It is weird. I’ve never messed about with my Meg’s stockings...not in that way, if you catch my drift.” He turned to Northam. “Did you ask if the fellow looks like our suspect?”

  “I did. That’s the rub. The shop man said he doesn’t. But as we haven’t had anyone else to look at, I thought he was worth having a chat with anyway,” Northam said with a shrug.

  “Does the shopkeeper know where the man lives?” Ruddy asked.

  “He does. After the man came from behind the shop, he climbed into a carriage at the curb in front and the shop man heard the address he gave the driver.”

  “Let’s pay the stocking lover a visit,” Ruddy said and stood.

  “Can I come?” Will asked. “Sounds like it might be a bit of fun.”

  “You mind?” Ruddy asked Archie.

  “Fine with me.”

  ****

  Northam used his nightstick and knocked hard on the door. “Open up, police.” He waited a couple of beats and raised his stick to knock again when the door opened a crack.

  A middle-aged man peered out. He kept one hand at his throat clutched to whatever he was wearing.

  “What do you want?” he asked, eyeing the four of them and giving Will a second look.

  Ruddy pushed his way in followed by Archie then Northam and Will. “Close the door and search his things,” he instructed Northam.

  The man’s face flushed nearly as bright as the red cabbage roses on the silk lady’s dressing gown he wore over the ribbon-trimmed chemise and silk lady’s drawers. Beneath the drawers he wore the embroidered stockings the shopkeeper said he sold him, which were held up with lace garters. He’d finished off the boudoir attire with pink satin slippers with gold tone buckles. “How dare you force your way in here. I shall register a complaint with your supervisor.” He shot a curious glance Will’s way. “Why’s the military here?”

  Ruddy was briefly distracted by the thought of where the man bought garments the size he needed for his hobby. The man was almost as tall as Ruddy, which made both of them much taller than most women.

  Ruddy tipped his head toward his brother. “You needn’t pay him any mind, he’s only an observer. We’re here on official police business. What’s your name?” Ruddy asked, knowing in his heart he wasn’t the fellow who rubbed his face over Miss Jane’s thighs. This man wanted to be a woman, not be with a woman.

  The man planted his hands on his hips. “I’m not answering your questions. You’ve no right to question me.”

  Archie busied himself taking notes next to Ruddy. Will stepped up to the other side of him and held up a framed, sepia-toned photo of what at first appeared to be a woman. The woman was sitting in a fan-backed wicker chair next to a large potted fern. The stylized pose had become popular in the last year. As photography had grown in popularity, more and more Londoners were having their picture taken with various props. Exotic plants and Indian-looking furniture was the current rage. Will handed the picture to Ruddy.

  Ruddy took a quick look and then set it down. In it the man in front of them wore a terrible blonde wig made up of fat girlish curls and a frothy, frilled frock.

  “Based on this photo, I doubt you’ll be registering a complaint with anyone,” Ruddy said with confidence. “I’ll ask once more. What’s your name?”

  The man flopped down in a stuffed chair and began to cry. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Then you’ve nothing to worry about. Your name. Now,” Ruddy said. “And for all our sakes, stop blubbering.”

  After another loud sob, the man composed himself and dabbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Innis Cuthbert.”

  Archie wrote the name down and asked, “How is it you’re home during the day and not at work?”

  “I own a public house.”

  Archie leaned over and whispered to Ruddy. “A pub owner would be on the street early like our victim. He’d want to be available for his deliveries.”

  Ruddy half-shrugged in agreement. He still didn’t see Cuthbert as good for their crime.

  “What’s the name of your place and where is it?” Ruddy asked.

  Cuthbert clasped his hands together like a man in prayer. “Please don’t make me tell you. Please. Any cloud on my name can cause me trouble. I can’t afford to lose my license.”

  “If I arrest you, you’ll lose it for sure. That may happen yet if you continue to stonewall us. Answer me.” Northam came from the bedroom with a stack of stockings as Ruddy was issuing the warning. He put his hand up to stop Northam from giving them to him. He’d let the younger officer handle the man’s delicates. “Well, your pub?”

  “The Raven’s Nest on Wharfdale.”

  “Where were you last Tuesday morning at approximately half-seven?” Ruddy asked.

  “Here, getting ready to go to the pub to sign for the days deliveries.”

  “Can anyone vouch for you, confirm you were here at that time?”

  Cuthbert shook his head. “I don’t think so. There’s only my landlady and her daughter in the other flat. I didn’t see them on my way out.”

  “You’re going to have to come with us. Northam find something to put those in, a pillow cover or something similar. Stay with him while he dresses in normal clothes,” Ruddy said.

  Wide-eyed Cuthbert said, “You are arresting me.”

  “Not formally. Not yet. We’re taking you in to see if the victim identifies you,” Ruddy explained. “If she says—“

  “You’ll arrest me for...for being what I am.” Tears rolled down Cuthbert’s cheeks. “I didn’t hurt anybody. I didn’t attack anyone. I like pretty clothes is all.”

  “We’re not formally arresting you yet. Just hurry and get dressed. If you’re innocent as you say, then you’ve nothing to worry about.” Ruddy made a shooing motion. “Get on with it.”

  “Are all your suspects so weepy?” Will asked low. “I thought there’d be more excitement. I thought there’d be fisticuffs.”

  “Usually are. This one is a whole other breed,” Ruddy said. “Let’s get him hooked up and out of here,” he ordered Northam.

  ****

  A constable had just arrived with Miss Janes. Ruddy was in the process of explaining how she’d view the suspect. Northam would keep the man secured at the far side of the interview room while Ruddy and Archie would stand on each side of her. She could take as long as she liked and if she couldn’t say whether he was the man or not, that was fine. Better to say she didn’t know than to wrongly accuse anyone.

  At that point, another constable came over to Archie’s desk. “I’ve a new victim of the stocking thief, sirs.”

  “When did this happen?” Archie asked.

  “Just a few minutes ago. I was on my patch on Clerkenwell and heard a woman screaming. I ran and the lady told me she had left a green grocery down the road moments earlier when a man approached her with a knife. He forced her into an alley where he made her remove her stockings and—“

  “Slow down constable,” Archie told him. “Where’s the woman now?”

  “Here. She’s at the front desk.”

  “Send her back.”

  “I’ll tell Northam to release Cuthbert,” Ruddy said.

  “Can I still see him?” Miss Janes asked.

  “If you want.” Ruddy waved Northam and Cuthbert out of the interview room and explained to them that he was releasing Cuthbert based on new information.

  After Cuthbert went by her, Miss Janes told Ruddy, “He wasn’t the man. Didn’t look anything like him.”

  “I know. But, I had to show him to you anyway as we had other evidence at the time that could’ve had some bearing on your case. Thank you for coming in, Miss Janes. I’ll have a constable walk you back to the haberdasher’s.”

  “May I stay for a bit? I’m mostly through with my work for the day.”

  Ruddy thought it an odd request. What woman wanted to stay around a nasty police st
ation? He couldn’t see the harm though. “If you wish but sit over there.” He pointed to an empty chair by the table with the tea tray.

  Archie brought the new victim straight to the interview room. Ruddy joined them with his sketch pad and soft pencil. The second victim told the same basic story. After obtaining her stockings, the suspect rubbed his face on her thighs but didn’t interfere with her sexually in any other way. He ran off and disappeared by the time the constable arrived. Her description of the suspect matched that of Miss Jane’s. She was able to add bushy eyebrows and pockmarks on his nose.

  When they finished, he walked out and saw exactly what he didn’t want to see, Will and Miss Janes, heads together, deep in conversation, laughing and smiling, enjoying themselves way too much. In his mind, he thought Will would busy himself talking with the other detectives, not the crime victim. Time for Miss Janes to go.

  “Thank you Will for entertaining Miss Janes but don’t you want to get on over to my flat and change?” He smiled at Janes. “Surely, Miss Janes you have someplace you’d rather be,” Ruddy said.

  “Wait here a moment,” Will told Janes who smiled and nodded. He stood and walked a few feet away and indicated he wanted Ruddy to follow with a single tip of his head.

  Bloody hell. His brother hadn’t been in town a day and was already giving him a headache.

  Ruddy went over and started before Will got a word out. “I’d rather you didn’t go or do whatever it is you wish to with Miss Janes. First of all, she’s a flirt. She flirted with me when we met. Beyond that, she’s my victim. You’re here for a brief time. After that, it’s off you go and I’m left with a weepy woman on my hands one I am bound to see again due to my criminal case. Not to mention socializing with ladies costs money and you said but a short time ago you were trying to save your blunt for when you went home.”

  “Ruddy, do I have to tell you what it’s like being stationed in Mysore for years and years? It is not a hive of pleasant social activity. I’m only here for a few days. Let me have some fun. I’ll only see her for a day or two at most and spend the rest of the time meeting your friends.”