The Guild Chronicles Books 1-3

by J M Bannon

  The Sister felt a strange joy and sense of accomplishment watching Dolly looking at her contraption. He was like a schoolboy staring in the window of a toy shop. Rose also felt sorrow as she focused on the image within her invention, the murderess conducting black magic. Ironically the priestess’ face was also a mix of exaltation and sorrow. It was then while looking at the predator and the prey that Rose saw something similar and familiar in the faces of the victim and the murderess. Rose wondered if Dolly saw the same.

  “How is this possible?” Dolly asked watching the vision fade as the smoke stopped blowing.

  “It’s science, Detective. Have you read the works of John Dalton?” Rose took out the slide and stored it in a protective holder.

  “No, I'm just a dumb cop, Rose.”

  “Dalton advanced the theory that the whole universe is comprised of atoms. The simplest of elements. All the elements are made of the same aether and the number of aether particles makes up the difference between lead and gold. Preston taught me that the universe is of the aether, and it's all connected. By understanding its properties, we can manipulate matter, electricity and in this instance, I can detect the old aether imprint left from a moment in time,” Rose declared.

  “So this is science, not spiritualism?” asked Dolly.

  “It’s both. I say they are the same, just different ways of looking at the universe.”

  “Well, like I told Keane the other day, I never thought a man could fly, and now we are building airships the size of buildings.”

  “Keep that mind open as possible, Fredrick. If you don’t, that is when you are damned," Rose replied.

  Rose knew Dolly took that in as a philosophical metaphor, but she meant it. She had seen souls sent to other planes of reality. She had been to other planes herself. It was when you grappled with the concepts of the eternal and universal that your limiting beliefs drove you mad.

  “Dolly, when we find this woman, I need to learn how this arcana works.”

  “Well, she can teach you while she waits for the gallows."

  “That is my point. She can control the forces of life and death itself. She won’t be afraid of your gallows," said Rose.

  “I am a simple fella, Rose, responsible for detecting the work of criminals in this city and bringing them before the Crown for justice to be served,” Dolly said as he looked over her contraption. There were many similar contraptions in various states in her shop. “Any of these other things work?”

  “Some do, some are in progress, others are parts to tinker with,” answered Rose as she organized items on a counter, almost an attempt to clean up the mess. “What if the priestess has killed no one? She could just have trapped them in that orb she was holding. She could be holding them hostage,” Rose followed up.

  Dolly gave her a look of disdain, “Well, here is my small mind closing. I signed off this morning to hand Sir Francis Chilton’s body back to his family. So seeing as most folks bury the dead, am I supposed to instruct them to hold off until we catch a Voodoo sorcerer that may or may not have their loved one’s soul in a box; or do we dig him up after I get Miss Mumbo here in irons and have her funnel Sir Francis back into his rotting corpse?”

  Rose hated this part of Dolly. The less he understood, the more his hackles were raised. “Dolly, that’s not the point. I want you to work on catching her so I can learn from her. This could be a powerful weapon for Her Majesty.”

  “Nice try, Caldwell. Use my allegiance to the Crown. Just walk me through that conversation with the home secretary. Your Honor, I have it on good authority from an ex-nun that we will soon have the ability to trap the souls of our enemies. After I apprehend the person who damned the souls of one of your mates, not to worry. I am hot on her trail because I know what she looks like from a ghost picture I saw in a tenement basement. I would ask that we not hang her until she teaches the ex-nun how to steal souls. What did I miss? Oh yes, and could I please have a pension and a knighthood?” He walked down one of the aisles to leave.

  “Dolly, there is a bigger game here. You and I are fighting this war together. This is about the light and the dark, and we need any advantage to win,” Rose implored, grabbing his arm to halt his exit.

  “Rosie, dear, I thank you. This contraption of yours is plum. We got something here to go on, but this is a murder investigation and a robbery. I need to identify your mystery woman and catch her before she kills someone else or gets away. Let’s say I get somewhere on this lead and we find her. What should we expect with this magic Is it like firing a gun, or does she need to get prepared?” asked Dolly.

  “It’s ritualistic. She has to establish a contact with the victim and enthrall him. Preston told me that some of the most potent work requires multiple hougans or very powerful ones. I expect she has a natural talent and is getting more experience with the most complex of the Voodoo rituals. The amulet I gave you will afford protection.”

  “This might sound stupid, but do you think she has the power to stop a bullet?” asked Dolly.

  “I doubt it,” replied Rose.

  “Well, there’s a bright spot. This thing of yours on my watch fob should give me enough time to put a shot on her.” Dolly looked Rose in the eyes. “This won’t be another case where I shoot someone and they don’t die.”

  * * *

  11:30 PM, The Carlton Hotel

  At half past eleven, Dolly arrived at the Carlton. The hotel was frenetic with horse-drawn and steam carriages pulling up and departing. A society event in the ballroom recently concluded, and couples in tuxedos and ball gowns lined up waiting, for livery to retire home.

  The detective sergeant made his way to the lobby counter and requested to speak to the night supervisor. Hodges was his name. The day manager informed Hodges that Detective Williamson would need to talk with the night staff. Hodges was a man who prepared.

  “I would be delighted to call on the staff and have them sent to you for interview,” said Hodges as he handed the handwritten list to Dolly. "I also have arranged an office, my office, for you, Detective Williamson. To get you out of all the hustle and bustle of the hotel.”

  Dolly knew it was to keep him out of the sight of guests. What hotel wanted an active homicide inquiry in plain view of its patrons, even late at night?

  “I don’t wish to be problematic, but it would be best for me to just visit with the staff on the floor,” suggested Dolly.

  “Very well, but my office is yours if you should need it. Who would you like to chat with first?”

  “Let’s begin with the doorman. Is this Winters on duty tonight?" said Dolly.

  “Yes, that is him at the door.” The manager pointed to an average-looking man in a top hat and overcoat.

  The doorman was frenzied with the commotion of guests exiting, and Dolly had to make sure he was standing out of the way of the traffic. Winters was sweating between working the door and being overdressed for the balmy night. “Good evening, sir,” announced the doorman.

  “I’m Detective Sergeant Williamson of the Metropolitan Police Service. I understand that you were on duty Saturday night and Sunday morning.”

  "Yes, I was.”

  “I would like to ask you some questions,” voiced Dolly.

  “And I would be delighted to answer them. Tell you what, I have a break in a ‘alf hour and I go over to that alleyway to have a smoke in peace. Meet me there,” replied the doorman.

  Dolly made his way to the register to discuss the events of the evening with the bell staff and concierge, four young bell hops and an elderly gentleman.

  “Good evening, gentleman. I’m Detective Sergeant Williamson of the Metropolitan Police Service, and I would like to speak with you if you worked the night of the eleventh.”

  “This is my first night in a week,” pointed out the Concierge without glancing up. “I was off that night,” one of the four bell hops said.

  Dolly looked at the remaining three. “Would you mind if I had a chat with you three in Mr. Hodges’
office?” The three acknowledged yes with looks, shrugs and head nods. “Then let’s make our way there. You can take the lead as I don’t know my way around here.”

  The door to the manager’s office was open. This was the shared workspace of both the day and night manager. It was small berth with a roll-top desk and two wooden chairs to its side, not much more than a closet. Hodges was seated at the desk. Dolly took the rear, following the group into the office. Seated at the desk, Hodges voiced, “Can I help you gentlemen?”

  The lead bell hop replied, “The detective told us to come in here to have a chat.”

  Dolly pushed through the trio “Sorry about the change of plans, but I felt it best to speak with the boys in private.”

  “Oh, yes. Alright, let me get my things, and you can have the office. We are short on chairs. Adams, go down the hall to the accounts office and pinch a chair from them,” said Hodges.

  “Yes, Mr Hodges,” shot back the young Adams as he scurried down the hall to fetch a chair.

  The three lads and Dolly settled into the cramped office. The boys sat on wooden chairs facing the desk, and Dolly perched on the corner of the desk to make the situation more casual yet still assert his authority. He started the questioning with a simple query. “You hear about what transpired last Saturday in room 8A?”

  “Slaughter, I heard,” declared a bell hop.

  “Blazed up in his bed was what I was told," said Adams.

  "I would appreciate if you fellas help me catch the criminal,” said Dolly.

  “How can we help, mate?” asked Adams.

  “All of you think about that night and if you witnessed anything unusual. If perhaps you spoke with Señor Moya, or knew about his whereabouts or associations with others that evening,” instructed Dolly.

  The taller bellman spoke up. “I was on the eighth floor collectin’ shoes to shine and saw a fella enter that suite.”

  “What time was this?” Dolly asked, pulling out his journal and pencil.

  “I’d say round two in the morning, gov," the boy said.

  “Your name?” questioned the detective.

  “It’s Tim Walter, sir.”

  "What else did you see, Tim?”

  “None to speak of. I was going about my business collecting boots and shoes to shine,"

  “Do you remember what the man looked like?”

  “No, I was a ways down the hall. He was a gentleman, smartly dressed with a fancy walking stick. He was at the door talking to who I assume was Señor Moya, then he went in," said Tim.

  Dolly thought this could be helpful but needed more. “When you say he was smartly dressed, you mean like a dandy, as some of Señor Moya’s associates may dress?”

  "No, more like a gentleman, you know—a business man, but there was something a touch flash about him,” answered Tim.

  "Did you see the man leave?"

  "No, I didn’t think much of it, so I went about my rounds and finished the floor before he left the room.”

  "Did any of you other fellas see the gentleman with the walking stick?"

  The group looked to each other for an answer. None came.

  “Did any of you observe an African woman in the hotel?” asked the detective.

  Again the three exchanged silent befuddled looks.

  “Thank you for your time. If any of you recollect anything further, please come see me at the Yard.” Dolly pulled out his silver card case and handed each of the men one of his cards.

  It was just about time to meet the doorman. Dolly made his way to the alley. He packed a pipe with tobacco and lit it. The doorman finally took a break and walked up the alley to Dolly. "I can talk now," said the doorman.

  “So you were on duty last Saturday night?”

  “Yes sir. I rolled in about ten to get on me livery and have a cup of tea,” the doorman answered as he rolled a cigarette.

  “Did you see Señor Moya leave the hotel?” asked Dolly. He knew from the valet he left earlier, but he was looking for conflicts.

  “No, I didn’t see him leave,"

  “Do you remember Señor Moya returning?”

  “Yes, sir. Well, sir, he returned by a cab around twelve-thirty, I’d say," answered the doorman.

  “Was he with anyone?” followed on Dolly.

  “No. Just himself."

  “Did he say anything to you?”

  “Just the usual pleasantries.”

  “Did you happen to see a man, a smartly dressed business man with a walking cane that night?”

  “Quite a few at this place, sir.”

  “This would have been later, around the time Señor Moya returned, or even later?”

  “Well, there is Mr. Strathmore. If I recall, he came in about one-thirty that evening,” the doorman said as he finished up his smoke.

  “Why would he be coming in that late?” Dolly asked.

  “Well, I don’t know the specifics, but he is a regular guest here. When he is in town from America, he stays with us.” The doorman blew out smoke with a puzzled look and stamped out his cigarette butt on the pavement.

  “He is staying with you now at the Carlton?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you happen to see a negro woman come into or leave the hotel?”

  “Now that, sir, I would have noticed, and I did not,” said the doorman.

  “Thank you for your help. Here is one of my cards. If anything crosses your mind, you can reach me by wire-type at Scotland Yard," recited Dolly.

  The detective made his way back into the hotel and found the manager. He waited by the lobby counter until the manager had completed some task. When he finished, he looked up over his glasses and presented Dolly with a pleasant smile. “So, Detective Williamson, were we of any help?”

  “I have a few questions for you.”

  “By all means, should we step into my office?” asked Hodges. Dolly followed Hodges behind the reception desk to his office. Once ensconced Hodges settled into his chair behind the desk. Dolly stood in the doorway.

  “Did you see anyone here that seemed suspicious that night?” asked Dolly.

  “I did not.”

  Did you see either Señor Moya or Mr. Strathmore come into the hotel?

  “I did not, but Mr. Strathmore has the penthouse, and that suite has a private verticulator and entrance on the east lane. He uses it from time to time.”

  Dolly made notes. “Is Mr. Strathmore in tonight? I would like to ask him some questions. Could we have Walter run a message up to him?” asked Dolly, thinking this would be a quick way to qualify if the man the bell boy saw in the hall was Strathmore.

  “No need to have him do that. I can call up to the penthouse butler and ask if he is available. We recently installed a telecom system of Mr. Bell. What a time-saver. Rather than have a bell boy run up, now I can just call up to that floor.” Hodges went to a walnut box on the wall with a brass cone on the front. “This won’t take a moment.” He selected an input hole to plug in the connecting cable. “This is Hodges. I have a Detective Williamson who would like to speak with Mr. Strathmore. I see. I will let him know.”

  Hodges placed the earpiece back in the holder and unplugged the cable. “Detective, you will need to call on him tomorrow. He has already retired for the evening.”

  “Thank you very much, Mr. Hodges, and if you would please leave a message for Mr. Strathmore that I would like to have a word with him at his convenience.”

  “I will pass on the message,” replied Hodges.

  Dolly got up and made his way out to the front of the hotel to catch a cab.

  It had been a good day. Rose and the bell boy had given him solid leads to follow. He had identified two murder suspects, a negro woman with supernatural abilities and a society gentleman. A gentleman that just may be in this hotel.

  8

  Tuesday the 15th of June

  1:00 PM, White’s Gentleman Club

  This was not Detective Williamson's first time at White’s, He had been there in
the past to report to the Home Secretary on the status of a case. Sir Walpole was a member of London’s most exclusive club. Located at 37–38 St. James's Street in the city of Westminster, the building was famous for its bow window, where the table directly in front was reserved for the throne of the most socially influential men in the club. They called them the arbiter elegantiarum. First Beau Brummell held the honor, then Lord Alvanley. It was that very window that Alvanley bet a friend £3,000 as to which of two raindrops would first reach the bottom of a pane of glass. It had been remodeled since then to include the latest technology from the UK and abroad mainly for members to brag about since few were comfortable with all the newfangled mechanisms coming of age. Rather than cause a stir, he took a soft approach and asked the permission of his superiors to provide access to the club. Less chance of ruffling the feathers of the secretary or a powerful club member and setting his investigation back days or weeks. The club had a member list that included the royal house, ministers of Parliament, lords, dukes, and barons.

  The manager allowed the detective to interview the staff that worked the front desk and in service at the club. It had to be discreetly done, so Dolly spoke with the staff behind the closed door of the manager’s office. He determined from the interviews that, as the guest of Lester Chilton, Señor Moya dined with Sir Rory Birch and Mr. Strathmore, Chilton’s American partner. Following supper, the gentleman retired to the game room to play billiards. The party broke up at 11:30 PM. with Lester Chilton leaving in his steam coach and Moya catching a cab.