The Anatomist (Maya Mystery Book 2)

by Noah Alexander

  Maya burned red with anger. She was easily upset by obstinate men, it was hard to convince them to see reason. Maya shuffled around grinding her teeth. She would not be forced to turn back by a watchman.

  “Dr. Melcrose,” she shouted suddenly, at the top of her voice, “The idiot at your gate wouldn’t let me in.”

  A gardener weeding the lawn just past the gate looked up from his work and chuckled. Maya shouted the doctor’s name again. This seemed to panic the guard who pushed her away and closed the gate.

  “Go away lady,” he said, “don’t cause trouble.”

  “You just wait,” Maya waved dangerously at him, “I’ll get you in trouble.”

  “Mr. Melcrose!”

  A man opened the door to the bungalow and came out limping. He wasn’t Charles Melcrose but the caretaker of the house, Rattan Singh. The old man hurried towards the gate as fast as his malfunctioning limbs would carry.

  “What is all this noise,” he asked the guard glaring at Maya who now stood on the other side of the closed gate.

  “This woman has no appointment with Dr. Melcrose,” said the guard, “but she was trying to break into the house.”

  Rattan Singh glared at Maya and, just like the guard, he refused to acknowledge that he had seen Maya before.

  “Why are you trying to destroy the peace of the place, madam?” he asked.

  “I am not destroying the peace of this house, I only want to meet Dr. Melcrose who has given me a job and I have things to show him.”

  Rattan Singh eyed the papers in Maya’s hand.

  “The doctor is not at home,” he said simply, “If you want to hand something to him, I can do that for you.”

  Maya didn’t believe he was saying the truth and she had no intention of giving her painstaking research to her.

  “No, thank you,” she said, “I’ll give that to him myself. Just let me know when he would be home.”

  Rattan Singh thought for a long time.

  “I do not know for certain,” he said finally, “he might not be home till tomorrow.”

  Maya sighed. Why did these two men not want her to get to Charles Melcrose? Did they have anything to do with this mystery?

  She turned to walk away. She was sure that the doctor was inside the house but there was no way she would be let in. Was there any other way to the house?

  Maya cast a glance at the 10 feet high brick boundary wall skirting the compound. She wouldn’t be able to scale the wall, not without aid. But this house was old, there were bound to be some places where the wall had taken a beating. She could use those recesses to get access to the building. Maya walked slowly, leering at the boundary wall slyly, lest the guard, and Rattan Singh (who she was sure were observing her) would gauge her intentions. Around two hundred yards on the main road, the boundary wall turned left to flank a narrow dirt trail. Maya turned to the left to continue following the wall. She was in luck, a dozen steps ahead, she could see some rubble. A portion of the wall had collapsed making a cavity big enough for her to pass. Maya walked closer to inspect the cavity but stopped short. From the other side of the narrow trail, the figure of a lady had emerged. Mrs. Melcrose slowly swam into view. She was draped in a long blue dress, an ornate hat upon her head. She also seemed to be carrying a sapling. Maya suspected that she too would refuse to recognize her. But she was mistaken, Cecilia Melcrose gave her a warm smile.

  “Good evening Miss Maya, how are you doing today?”

  Maya returned her smile. “I am doing very well. I had made some progress on the case and was here to run it by your husband but it seems he is not at home.”

  Mrs. Melcrose seemed surprised. “Oh! Is he not? But generally, at this time of the day, he is at home.”

  “I don’t know. Mr. Rattan Singh said so.”

  “Well it could be that he has gone out for a bit but it would be a good idea to wait for him if you don’t mind. He has been in terrible stress regarding the notes, same with me, and if there has been any progress that would be very welcome to him.”

  “I would have no trouble in waiting for him,” said Maya happily.

  “That is very generous of you. Let’s go to the house.”

  Mrs. Melcrose noticed Maya observing the sapling in her hand.

  “This is a marigold sapling,” said she cheerfully, “I got it from a nursery nearby for my small garden”

  Maya nodded.

  “I like to spend my time gardening,” continued Mrs. Melcrose, “Unlike you, I don’t have a lot of talents to spend my time exploring.”

  Maya blushed, uncertain of a suitable reply.

  “But tell me,” Mrs. Melcrose did not wait for her reply, “I am very curious. How did you come into this strange trade? I used to believe that this space was reserved for men.”

  Maya did not know how to answer that question. She was also suddenly reminded that she was not actually a detective and only pretending to be one.

  “I became a part of a detective agency as an administrative worker but later the other detectives felt I could aid them, so I became a detective as well,” Maya said what she hoped would happen in the near future.

  “That is very impressive,” said Mrs. Melcrose, “I suppose you must be one of those brainy women. There were a few in my knitting class back in Calcutta. They had tenacious hands but they were always talking about things I had no clue about – about the East India Company, about ships which docked at the harbor and about the men who sailed the seven seas and discovered unimaginable treasures. I wonder where they are now.”

  Mrs. Melcrose fell into reticent introspection.

  “It’s no use thinking about the past,” she said suddenly, “What did you say you had found out about the case?”

  Maya brandished the bundle of papers in her hand.

  “I am afraid it is not good news. All the evidence that I have till now points that Mr. Bernard Knowles was actually a grave robber and the bodies that he supplied to the doctor were nipped from graveyards.”

  Mrs. Melcrose gasped.

  “That is very distressing news indeed. I wonder how Charles would react. He had been hoping that you would bring him some good news about Mr. Bernard. But it seems that fate has other plans.”

  The two had arrived at the gate to the bungalow. The sentry opened the gate seeing Mrs. Melcrose and saluted at her smartly. He glared at Maya as well but could do little else.

  “The door to his basement office is open,” said Mrs. Melcrose once the two had entered the house, “I am sure he is in there. I would have led you to his office personally but I am a little wary of that place. It gives me shivers. You can take the stairs down from there.” She pointed to the end of the hall, where a door opened to the left.

  “That is no problem,” said Maya, “I can find my way there. Thank you Mrs. Melcrose.”

  Mrs. Melcrose smiled. “Come back up quick, I will keep tea ready.”

  Maya started down the dark staircase which led to the basement office. The door at the landing was open and a very faint curtain of light escaped from its edge. Maya entered the dimly lit basement and stood rooted to the spot. A few steps ahead of her, on a large brass bench, lay a body, its face had been ripped away to reveal the skull, while blood and gore dripped from the bench onto the floor. Maya resisted the urge to vomit and walked ahead trying to locate the doctor. She heard some movement on her left and saw a figure walk into a dark room.

  20

  The Doctor Speaks

  “Please don’t come inside,” said Charles Melcrose as Maya put a step inside the door of the crypt. He hurried towards her, candle in hand, giving Maya no time to observe the place. She saw the candle flame reflect from something on his way out. A basin of water?

  “I am sorry,” said Maya once both of them were out of the door, “I didn’t intend to intrude, I was here to brief you about the progress that I have made on Bernard Knowles’s case and Mrs. Melcrose directed me to the basement.”

  “It’s all right Miss Maya,” said
the doctor closing the door and putting a lock upon it, “I allow no one inside this room, it has private things and I am protective of these possessions.”

  “I understand,” said Maya though she knew it would be hard now to take the room out of her mind.

  Charles Melcrose led her to a table near the door through which she had entered the basement. I think you might’ve already noticed a body on my workbench. This is my workplace and laboratory and I perform autopsies here. Lying on the table is the corpse of Mr. John Henderson, the last body supplied to me by Mr. Bernard Knowles. According to the document provided by him, Mr. Henderson had died of old age in the Vasco Public Hospital.”

  Maya wondered how to break her findings to the doctor. It was clear that he was still hoping that Bernard Knowles was a licensed supplier of bodies and that the cadavers that he had dissected in the last year were people who had consented to be anatomically explored and not forcefully nipped from their graves.

  “Do you want us to go to my room up top if the body troubles you?” asked the doctor.

  “No, that is all right,” Maya said turning slightly, so that the mutilated body was no longer visible, “I have some new developments on Mr. Bernard Knowles. I have summarized the facts in the papers here.”

  She handed the bundle of papers to the doctor who began to flip through them in the light of the candle.

  “I did not find anyone named Bernard Knowles registered with the Sophia Morgue. In fact, the morgue has no licensed suppliers at all, they don’t deliver bodies to anyone. The person who was supplying bodies to you is a man called Bernard or Pickle or Puck and he works as a barber in Old Cardim. He had got his license forged by a man who worked in the Sophia Morgue, and since Bernard certainly did not have access to the bodies from the Morgue, in all probability the bodies that you have used had been stolen from graves.”

  The doctor gave up studying the papers and put them on the table. He pulled a chair back and settled himself upon it, taking his head in his hand. He stayed in the position for a long time even as Maya’s eyes drifted to the open drawer of the table which had a few slips of paper inside. She could distinctly read the first note, it was the same one that the doctor said he had received, but the handwriting was different. It wasn’t the doctor’s handwriting. Slowly Maya’s hands drifted to the drawer and plucked it out.

  Stop disturbing the graves or else your secret would no longer be yours.

  The note was not all similar to the one that the doctor had read to her. Only the first half of the note matched, the second half talked something about the doctor’s secret. What secret?

  Charles Melcrose finally looked up at Maya who still had the note in her hand.

  “I am sorry doctor,” said Maya, “I found this note on the table and couldn’t help reading it.”

  Charles Melcrose's eyes gaped at the sight of the note. He reached out and snatched it from her hands almost rudely. He quickly chucked the note inside the drawer again and closed it. Maya had very little time but she was able to make out more slips similar to the one that the doctor put in just now. Charles Melcrose had received more notes recently?

  “Is that all Miss Maya, or do you have any more information?” the doctor asked after locking the table drawer and putting the key in his trouser pocket.

  It was clear that the doctor had not given her all the information. He was hiding facts from her. But why?

  “Yes I have more information,” said Maya, “and I don’t think you would like it.”

  The doctor’s face, already pale, lost even more color.

  “Mr. Bernard Knowles is a wanted man. He has cases of Grave robbing against him listed in the Vasco Constabulary and the High Guards are after him. That being said, they cannot find him, he has been missing for more than a week now. And since I well and truly believe that this case of yours has something to do with Bernard, I am inclined to reveal your name to the guards.”

  The doctor gaped disbelievingly at her.

  “Until,” Maya continued, “You tell me the complete truth. I am sure that you are hiding things from me. For one, the note that you showed to me in the office of the Bombay Detective agency was not the note you received, you fabricated the last part of it. And that wasn’t the only note you received, you have more in your drawer.”

  The doctor rocked his head.

  “You are right,” he said after some time, “I am in big trouble,”

  21

  Who Killed Bernard

  Maya pulled her hair in agony. She had realized that the sudden prospect of solving a murder mystery had sent her senses in disarray.

  She was in her room, upon her bed which was littered with the four slips of paper that the doctor had received over the last month. Troubled by Maya’s threat of giving him to the police, Charles Melcrose had revealed to her, what she hoped was, the complete truth.

  The doctor had been receiving these mysterious notes for a month now. He had not revealed this (save for the last note) to even his wife. Each note asked him to give up his practice in Cardim or some secret hidden in his crypt would be revealed. The crypt was the same room in which she had found Charles Melcrose when she had been to the basement in the afternoon. Charles Melcrose had refused to show the place to her but he had said that the room was a storage space for cadavers. He kept a few of his more important specimens there and the secret that was alluded to in the note was the source of the bodies. That they were from the graves. Maya was not totally convinced of this but had not pestered him further.

  The doctor told her then that the notes had made him suspicious of Mr. Bernard and he had decided to question him when he came to the house with the next cadaver. However, when Bernard had arrived the next time he had been in no condition to be interrogated. He was dead, strangled by someone. His body was accompanied by the last note, “Don’t disturb the graves or else your secret will no longer be yours.”

  The doctor was panicked by the appearance of a dead body at his door and he felt that if he involved the High Guards, his dealings with a grave robber would be out in the open. So he had made his biggest mistake. Too nervous and scared to think better he had the body disposed of in his own compound where he buried his used cadavers. He had shown her the place where Rattan Singh had buried Bernard.

  Maya couldn’t believe her luck that an innocuous research task had turned into a murder mystery. There was little more that she could have asked for in her first case.

  But her sudden good fortune had caused her too much excitement. And a detective could not afford that.

  She needed to keep herself under control and proceed one step at a time. Just like Mr. Camleman had written in the Handbook of the Aspiring Detective. With poise and calm and with logic. One piece of the puzzle should lead to the next.

  Maya took up a piece of paper and decided to form an approach. She fiddled the pen in her hand for a long time before putting it on the paper.

  The Problem:

  Murder of Bernard Knowles and the secret notes.

  Who was sending these notes? What did he want? Who had murdered Bernard? Why?

  She thought for a little time before scribbling

  What is the doctor’s secret?

  Suspects:

  Who could logically gain something by ruining the doctor’s reputation or by murdering Bernard? Bernard was involved in other criminal activities, so there must be many people who wanted to have a piece of him for personal reasons. The doctor himself could have other competitors. Maya had learned that his anatomy lectures were widely sought after by medical students. Other doctors would love to get a pie of his students. It was an avenue she realized she could only hypothesize. She did not have any conclusive information. She needed to find something more. In the end, she listed,

  Bernard’s Enemies.

  Doctor’s Competitors

  Someone Else?

  The list of suspects was all very vague and she had no clue to either of them. Perhaps if she knew more about Bernard, she c
ould go a little further, research about his family and friends, and if possible enemies. If she could also find out who saw him last, and where, that would also give her some food for thought.

  She scavenged her bag for the details of the grave robber which she had copied from Ernst’s notebook. He lived in the flat D-632 in Flea Market. That had already been checked by Ernst and it was locked.

  If she could talk to some of his neighbors, or better still, if she could somehow sneak into his house, she might get some clues. Maya looked at the clock in the room. It showed 9 PM. It was too late to venture out, too late certainly to go to Flea Market, her experience in the pub was still fresh in her mind. It wasn’t wise to risk her safety again.

  Maya lay down on her bed and closed her eyes. The notes floated in her head, like buzzing dragonflies they glided in front of her eyes, from left to right, floating in an out of her sight. For a brief moment, the text upon the notes would become visible and then disappear. Maya tried to shoot them out of her head, blow them away from her sight, but there was no way. The notes remained and soon her vision was clouded by more bits of paper, yellowing slips, each covered in scribbles, brimming inside her head like worms.

  Maya jerked up, sweating profusely.

  She reached under her bed to find her sandals. Maya had realized the futility of trying to stay home with a loose thread of the mystery hanging in her head like a noose. That was simply not possible, her mind would eat itself if she tried to stay home the whole night.

  She had to go over to Bernard’s house now, however dangerous it was, and get some more clues.

  The mystery was hot, and waiting for the morning was not an option.

  22

  Bernard's House

  Maya patted the fake mustache back upon her face to make sure it stayed there. She had reached the street where Bernard lived. It was late and the place was deserted apart from a forlorn stray dog and a couple of drunkards dawdling in the street trying to keep to their feet. They peered at Maya as she stepped closer to them.