The Darker Arts

by Oscar de Muriel

  Father went back to Holt. ‘Now, there is one more thing. You initially told the inspectors you had taken nothing from the parlour. Is that correct?’ Holt turned purple – actually purple. ‘I need you to say yes or no.’ There was still no reply, so Father appealed to us. ‘Inspectors, is that correct?’

  ‘Indeedy,’ said McGray.

  ‘And yet,’ Father went on, ‘you were in possession of a necklace …’ As he spoke, he retrieved the file with the photographs. ‘A rather distinctive one ; a raw gold nugget set on a chain.’ He purposely sneered at Holt before turning to me. ‘Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Now, the preposterous photograph that the alarmist press reproduced recently,’ he cast Pratt a cruel look, ‘and which was, of course, leaked through the fiscal here …’

  Pratt jumped to his feet, but the way Norvel and Father stared at him made him desist.

  ‘As I was saying, that photograph has clearly stolen the limelight, but there is a crucial one nobody cared about …’ He pulled one from the file and raised it as he walked slowly in front of the jury. ‘You can see here, clear as day, the said necklace lying on the table. Two of the victims appear there, at the very spot where they were found the day after. This is irrefutable. That necklace was on the table around which the six victims died, merely moments before the tragedy took place. This proves that Mr Holt broke into the house, then into the very crime scene, and helped himself to this!’

  He paused, gave time for the jury to look at the picture, and then presented it to Judge Norvel. He then went back to Mr Holt.

  ‘So you lied not once, but twice?’

  The man was about to cry, and Father did not wait for his reply.

  ‘This sorry man cannot be trusted. Everything, everything, that comes out of his mouth should be considered a lie.’

  He made another pause for the sake of drama, and then concluded in a much softer tone, bowing to Norvel.

  ‘That is all, my Lord.’

  Pratt then summoned Mrs Holt, who wore a brand new hat trimmed with an extravagant tangle of ribbons, most likely purchased to honour the occasion. The woman gave the most affected account of her husband’s character, how much he loved his baby daughter, and how much the colonel appreciated him. Her eyes were always on the reporters’ bench, blatantly posing for them to sketch her.

  Holt’s landlord, Mr Saunders, gave a more temperate statement, as did the keeper of his local pub. They confirmed Holt’s whereabouts on the night of the murders and in the preceding weeks. They’d noticed nothing odd in him at all and, like Mr Saunders had told us days before, Holt spent almost all his spare time at the public house. That was clearly not the behaviour of a man concocting a plot for murder.

  Pratt offered to summon Mrs Cobbold, who, as the colonel’s mother-in-law, had known of his appreciation for Holt, but Judge Norvel deemed it unnecessary. Instead he summoned Reed.

  The young man, sunken on the low seat and with his rouged cheeks, had never looked more like a child.

  Judge Norvel looked at the jury. ‘I would like to remind you that Dr Reed, despite his youthful looks, is a most professional man. His investigations and statements have shed invaluable light on the recent murder at the Deaf and Dumb Institution, which you may also have seen in the papers. Listen to him with due respect.’

  The praise only managed to make him redder, and I feared Pratt would stalk him like he would a wounded deer.

  Thankfully, Father asked to speak first. ‘Dr Reed, I have studied your reports most carefully. Outstanding work, if I may say.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ Reed eyed me when he said that, as if telling me ‘this is how you address people’.

  ‘I see you only did two chemical tests on the victims’ remains. The Marsh and the …’

  ‘The Marsh and the Reinsch tests, sir. The latter suggested there was a complex cocktail of metals in their bloodstreams.’

  ‘Could you identify the substances in particular?’

  ‘No, sir. That would have required many more tests.’

  ‘Why were you unable to perform them? Was it merely time constraints? Were you at any point pressured to release the bodies?’

  ‘The family did put pressure on us, especially since the colonel was to receive a military funeral, but the more important issue was the amount of sample required. Most of our tests are destructive in nature, and given the number of possible substances, we could have ended up with very little left to bury.’

  ‘So we remain none the wiser.’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘Can you conclude that those metals were the cause of death?’

  ‘Again, it is difficult to say. It is very striking that all the six blood samples yielded the same preliminary result, but without knowing the exact culprit chemical, I could not possibly tell.’

  McGray allowed himself another little smile. Things seemed to be improving.

  ‘Let us talk about the infamous knife,’ said Father then. ‘For reasons I cannot fathom, this object has received unmerited attention as a piece of evidence. Dr Reed, as you state in your report, you were not able to carry out any additional tests on that blade.’

  ‘That is correct, sir.’

  ‘Enlighten us, please.’

  ‘The knife was embedded with the victims’ blood. If I’d found any poison there it would be impossible to tell whether it came from the knife or was already present in their bodies.’

  Father asked him to repeat that statement for the benefit of the jury.

  ‘Let us for one moment concede,’ he went on then, ‘hypothetically of course, that the knife was indeed poisoned. You have other reservations as to that theory, do you not?’

  ‘Yes. For instance, the only poisons I know that can cause such sudden deaths are of biological nature. Things like the venom of snakes.’

  ‘And, as your report states, those substances are difficult to detect in a human body.’

  ‘Impossible, sir.’

  ‘Impossible!’ Father cried, feigning delighted surprise. ‘Impossible …’ he repeated, as if to himself. ‘Pray, tell us why.’

  ‘The more similar the substances are, the more difficult it is to separate them and tell them apart. Metals are easy to spot ; we wash away the tissue with acid or caustic solutions and are left with a residue. We cannot yet do that with poisons of a biological origin ; they are made of the same compounds as our own bodies. We cannot wash away human tissue with an acid or an alkali without also destroying any toxins secreted by a living form.’

  ‘What you are saying is that it is impossible to confirm whether or not the knife was poisoned, regardless of the nature of the substance.’

  ‘It would be extremely difficult with our available techniques, sir.’

  ‘In which case you’d place this theory of the knife in the realms of speculation.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  Father sighed, visibly content. ‘In your very professional opinion, what would you say might have killed those six unfortunate people?’

  Reed shook his head. ‘I examined the bodies and performed all those tests with my own hands, and I’m still as baffled as everyone else in this chamber.’

  Father grinned. ‘Thank you, Dr Reed. You have been most helpful.’

  It is customary to ask whether the prosecution has anything to add, but Father simply went back to his seat, as if implying there was nothing further to say.

  Pratt, undeterred, approached Reed. ‘My Lord, if you allow, I would like to stress a few points.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Norvel, his eyes now clearly on the chamber’s clock.

  ‘Dr Reed, indulge me in my ignorance. You just said you were not able to perform any further tests on the knife?’

  Reed looked rather puzzled. ‘Yes. For the reasons I—’

  ‘Oh yes, you made a very good case for what modern science can and cannot do, but the fact that no tests were made—’

  ‘They could not be made.’

  ‘C
ould not? I do not think that is the most accurate way to put it.’

  Reed moistened his lips. ‘What I mean to say is that if they had been made they would have rendered very uncertain results.’

  ‘So you cannot categorically rule out that the knife was poisoned?’

  ‘Oh, what a stupid question!’ Father cried from his seat, startling everyone, and then spoke at full speed before anyone could silence him. ‘He already made it clear he can neither confirm nor deny that! You cannot sentence anyone on that basis ; that is why you Scots created the not proven verdict!’

  Norvel banged a fist on his bench. ‘Mr Frey, another outburst like this and I will have you removed from this chamber!’

  Father crossed his arms, though rather smiling.

  Pratt cleared his throat, feigning a humble expression. ‘I was simply pointing out the obvious. This excellent doctor’s techniques cannot discard Miss Dragnea’s involvement. However, the fact remains that the knife was hers! She instructed the victims to bleed themselves using that instrument and specifically told them they should use no other.’

  ‘That hardly—’

  ‘Dr Reed, if we found that Miss Dragnea had a clear motive to murder all – or, for that matter, any one of the deceased, would you not suspect such a knife to be the sole possible vehicle to administer a poison that would result in the deaths we’ve seen?’

  There was a deep silence. I could almost feel the hundreds of craning necks behind me.

  Reed bit his lip so hard I thought he’d make himself bleed, and his cheeks were turning a very strange shade of green. ‘I … I am here in my capacity as a forensic man. That sort of speculation is beyond me.’

  Pratt nodded, but with a disturbing air of victory.

  ‘Thank you, doctor. That’s all. Believe it or not, you have been very helpful to me.’

  And he returned quietly to the bench, leaving the entire courtroom as silent as a grave.

  ‘What did he mean by that?’ McGray murmured.

  ‘I have no idea,’ I said, ‘but I do not like it at all.’

  32

  Judge Norvel called for a brief recess. The session had already lasted much longer than usual and the jury were growing restless.

  We initially retreated to one of the waiting rooms, but the air felt just as stifling as in the courtroom, so we went to the small central yard. It still rained hard, but at least the air was fresh. Clustered miserably under our umbrellas, we shared fire for our cigars.

  ‘He definitely has another card to play,’ said Father. ‘He must know something we do not.’

  ‘Could he nae be acting the doaty?’ McGray asked, and I was shocked Father understood his common parlance.

  ‘No. I would be deeply surprised if there is nothing behind it.’

  Reed joined us then, trotting to reach our umbrellas. His face looked like parchment.

  ‘Och, laddie, are ye all right?’

  Reed swallowed painfully, a fist pressed against his mouth. ‘I threw up.’

  McGray whistled. ‘Dear, oh dear! How d’ye feel now?’

  ‘Very good, in fact.’

  McGray patted him on the back, offering his cigar. ‘Here, have a wee smoke. Ye did brilliant.’

  At the first puff, Reed began coughing uncontrollably. Father and I took a small step back, fearing there was still some bile in the poor chap’s stomach.

  We were summoned a few minutes later, everyone already feeling the strain of the trial – even the gossipmongers at the front row, now drawing sandwiches from their wicker baskets.

  The interest was renewed when Father summoned Lady Anne.

  Every single neck craned in her direction, for she’d been spotted from the very start. Pulling a pained grimace, Lady Anne stood up, her jaw parallel to the ground, and with trembling hands she beseeched the help of an officer, her butler and her manservant.

  I knew her far too well not to see this was all an act, but I had to admit she played it remarkably, descending at glacial speed, squinting at every step and stomping her cane to make sure people saw it.

  ‘Och, it’s Lady Glass!’ someone shouted from the crowd, and the old woman simply clutched a hand at her chest, looking quite the martyr. She then pretended to stagger, all three men rushing to hold her, the entire courtroom gasping. The women at the front were shaking their heads.

  Lady Anne finally took her seat at the witness box, grunting with every move, and as she took the oath, I could examine her more carefully. Her cheeks were sunken like never before, as were her eyes, the outlines of a sharp skull perfectly delineated. She still wore mourning clothes, which contrasted starkly with her pale, almost grey skin. The woman indeed had had a most difficult year ; everyone knew about the scandalous death of her nephew last November, but only a handful of people knew the rest of her tragic family history.

  ‘Mr Frey,’ said Norvel, addressing my father but staring at the seemingly frail old woman, ‘I fail to understand why you need this honourable lady to testify. You better convince us.’

  ‘Thank you, my Lord. I shall. I simply mean to demonstrate that the accused, despite the unorthodox line of her side business – which is by no means her main source of income – and … well, the obvious fact of her being foreign, is still a decent person.’

  There were several chuckles in the background, some even from the jury.

  Not intimidated at all, Father picked up the thickest of his files. ‘We have collected a considerable amount of statements from people who have turned to Miss Dragnea for advice. People from all walks of life, who have nothing but good words for the accused.’ He offered the file to Norvel. ‘The gentlemen of the jury are welcome to scrutinise these statements, but for the sake of brevity I will only bring forward two of them.’

  Norvel leafed through while Father talked to Lady Glass.

  ‘My lady,’ he said after thanking her for her endurance and patience, ‘I understand you are familiar with Miss Dragnea’s services.’

  Lady Anne coughed and replied with her deep, authoritative voice. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I shall not bother you for too long, my lady, but surely you understand the weight of your statement, given your rank and your … unblemished reputation.’

  She could have skinned him alive, and this time she did not hide it, her veiny eyes burning with rage.

  ‘Yes,’ she snapped. ‘I understand.’

  Father allowed himself the briefest of smiles.

  ‘I truly appreciate it, my lady. It is not necessary for us to go into the details of Miss Dragnea’s several visits to your home.’ Indeed it was not ; the fact itself was shocking enough, as proven by the wave of gasps and murmuring that ensued. ‘I am sure the gentlemen of the jury will be content to know your opinion of the lady’s character.’

  Lady Anne tensed her lips, the tendons on her neck popping out like the ribs of a corset. Her image of a fragile grandmother was evaporating fast.

  ‘Madame Katerina is a good businesswoman,’ she blurted out as if reciting a memorised verse. ‘She has never attempted to trick me and I find it extremely hard to believe she would mean harm to anybody.’ She and Katerina exchanged piercing stares. Lady Anne squinted a little, displaying utter malice for a split second. ‘She is also … a good mother.’ There was another general gasp as Lady Anne pretended to cough, if only to cover her mouth and conceal her sardonic smile. ‘Very good mother, in fact ; she has managed to secure education for her boy in England. Even without the help of a husband.’

  And thus she injected her poison – pretending to deliver a compliment, yet with the sole intention of ventilating another shocking aspect of Katerina’s life. The women at the front row looked aghast.

  ‘Incapable of murder,’ Father interjected, his harsh voice startling many. He mellowed his tone then. ‘A very good mother, incapable of murder, would you say?’

  Lady Anne smiled, as if to appear endearing, her eyes fixed on Katerina.

  ‘As far as I can tell.’

  Fathe
r nodded, appearing jovial, but I knew him better. He must be cursing the woman’s ancestry.

  ‘That will be all, my lady. Unless the procurator fiscal has any further questions.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Pratt at once, dedicating Lady Glass a deep bow. ‘I would abhor myself for exposing the honourable lady to more of this gruelling process.’

  Lady Anne gave him an affectionate nod and began her sorry way back to her seat. As she walked past us, aided by the same three men, she cast McGray and me the vilest, most venomous stare. I could almost hear her hiss you shall pay for this.

  ‘My last witness, before I summon the accused,’ said Father, ‘is Miss Mary Maclean, of the Ensign Ewart public house.’

  Mary gave a lengthy, heartfelt account of everything Katerina had done for her. She was far more loquacious and articulate than I had expected, narrating the death of her father, the burglaries and her many hardships while trying to keep the pub open. By the time she was done, the entire row of ladies was a sea of tears.

  Father went back to his bench looking quite proud of himself. Even Judge Norvel’s frown had softened a little.

  And then there came Pratt.

  He walked to Mary with a friendly countenance, but instead of stopping by her, he came closer to us and pointed at McGray.

  ‘Miss Maclean, do you know this man?’

  Mary looked as puzzled as everyone else. ‘Aye.’

  ‘What is your relation to him?’

  I had to do my best not to let out a painful growl. It was clear where he was heading.

  ‘He’s a regular at my pub,’ said Mary.

  Pratt laughed openly. The contrast between his treatment of Mary and Lady Anne could not have been greater.

  ‘A regular! And does Mr McGray visit your premises only to consume food and drink?’

  The freckles across her face went redder. ‘What d’ye mean?’

  Pratt passed a stack of signed statements to Norvel. ‘Quite a few of your other regulars have declared that you and Inspector McGray have had an intermittent – what should I call it not to offend the more respectable ladies in this chamber?’

  Norvel cleared his throat loudly, just as some giggles were heard. ‘The fiscal shall make his point clear or move on.’