by David Marcum
LESTRADE:Strange it’s not on the tourist circuit, like Madame Tussaud’s.
QUAYLE:Call it a private hobby, if you will, that outgrew Tuttman Hall, which was his private residence... and so Mr. Tuttman purchased his old birthplace - renovated it from basement to attic, and turned it into a kind of preserve, being careful not to change its outward appearance, so that on its facade it still appears like a large private home. And he considered his patrons as guests more than customers. It was his idea that we keep a guest register, and have every visitor sign it.
GREGSON:Yes, I’ve checked it. Twenty-four people came through on this date. It shows their names and addresses and the time they took the tour. My men will be interviewing the night patrons first thing in the morning.
HOLMES:May I see that?
QUAYLE:Of course. Take it.
SOUND EFFECT:HEAVY SCRAPBOOK PLACED ON DESK. ITS THICK PAGES TURNED
QUAYLE:You see, here they are. The time the tour began, the time it ended, the time he locked up. Mr. Voland was very careful about his record keeping.
HOLMES:And since I see that your lobby has no clock, Mr. Voland obviously carried a watch, which is now missing.
GREGSON:You’re right. So the killer took it.
HOLMES:But left the money? Interesting. So according to the register, the last tour of the evening concluded at 9:20. And then Mr. Voland was through for the night?
GREGSON:I’ve already been over all that with Mr. Quayle. Voland locked up, went through the museum turning off the gaslights, and was on his way through the gallery to exit the building through the back door when he was attacked.
HOLMES:And how long would it take him to lock up and turn off the lights?
QUAYLE:Not more than five minutes, I should say.
HOLMES:So at around 9:25, that would place him in the gallery.
QUAYLE:Uh... I suppose so.
HOLMES:And where is the night watchman now?
GREGSON:Pyne? He was in such a state of hysteria, it was no good asking him any questions, so I let him go home.
HOLMES:Very sympathetic of you, Inspector, but I think I’d like to have a word with him before he drinks himself to sleep.
GREGSON:What do you mean by that?
HOLMES:Perhaps you noticed his locker in the back room, the one marked with his name on it?
GREGSON:I haven’t been there yet.
HOLMES:It would appear Mr. Pyne passes the lonely hours by reading naughty magazines while drinking cheap whisky.
QUAYLE:Is that so! Well! I shall look into that!
HOLMES:Don’t be too harsh on him, Mr. Quayle. Spending the night in a place like this would drive anyone to drink.
MUSIC:OMINOUS UNDERSCORE
WATSON:Holmes obtained Robert Pyne’s address, and we took a cab into Lambeth, found the narrow old alehouse over which the night watchman had his rooms, mounted the creaking stairs, and knocked on his door. The door opened only a crack, through which an alarmed and bloodshot eye appeared.
MUSIC:OUT
PYNE:What do you want?
HOLMES:Just a moment of your time, Mr. Pyne. My name is Sherlock Holmes and this is Doctor John Watson. We’ve just come from the museum and I need to talk with you.
PYNE:No! I don’t want to talk about it!
HOLMES:I know you’ve had a terrible shock tonight, but we must ask you a few questions. May we come in?
WATSON:(NARRATING) He opened the door and we entered his sorry quarters. Mr. Pyne was in his nightshirt. The room was dominated by an unmade bed, sheets and blankets tumbled together. On a stand beside the bed was an oil lamp, which offered the only illumination, and beside the lamp was a bottle of whisky, more than half gone.
SOUND EFFECT:DOOR CLOSES
WATSON:(NARRATING) He took up the lamp, holding it in his shaking hand, and faced us so that his back was to the bed stand, a maneuver I assumed was designed to hide the whisky bottle from our view.
HOLMES:I’ll be quite brief, Mr. Pyne. When did you arrive at the museum tonight?
PYNE:When? Urhh... nine o’clock.
HOLMES:Nine o’clock. You’re sure about that?
PYNE:That’s when I start me work.
HOLMES:Mr. Pyne. If you arrived at the museum at nine o’clock, then you were there when William Voland was killed, weren’t you? In fact, you must have heard what happened. Perhaps you even saw what happened!
PYNE:I did not! ‘E was already dead when I come in the gallery.
HOLMES:No, that won’t do, Mr. Pyne. We know he was alive at 9:20. Between 9:20 and 9:25 p.m., he was attacked and mutilated! So if you were in the museum at nine o’clock, you knew what was happening! Or... perhaps... you’re the killer!
PYNE:Are you crazy? It wasn’t me! I wasn’t there!
HOLMES:You just said you were there at nine.
PYNE:All right! So I was a few minutes’ late!
HOLMES:How late?
PYNE:Nine-twenty-five. I got there at nine-twenty-five. That’s the truth, so help me!
HOLMES:How did you know what time it was when you got there?
PYNE:Well... by me watch.
HOLMES:May I see your watch?
PYNE:Urhh...
HOLMES:Is there something wrong? Where do you keep your watch, Mr Pyne? (PAUSE)
SOUND EFFECT:THREE STRIDES
HOLMES:(OFF) I wager you would keep something as valuable as a watch here, in your night-stand!
SOUND EFFECT:HE YANKS A WOODEN DRAWER OPEN.
PYNE:You got no right to do that!
HOLMES:Ah. A watch in a gold case. And inside...
SOUND EFFECT:HOLMES WALKS BACK ON MICROPHONE
HOLMES:...Yes, inside are the owner’s initials. But they’re not your initials, are they, Mr. Pyne? The initials are W.V.
PYNE:I bought it at a pawn shop!
HOLMES:W. V.! The initials of William Voland! You stole this watch from the body of your co-worker, William Voland, didn’t you?
PYNE:I didn’t go near ‘im!... What was left of him!
HOLMES:Then where did you find this watch? (PAUSE) It will do you no good to lie, because your lies will only build your gallows, Mr. Pyne!
PYNE:It’s God’s truth, so help me! The watch was in the gallery, right by the door when I went in.
HOLMES:And so you pinched it.
PYNE:I was goin’ to turn it in! But the next second, I saw what else was there.
HOLMES:Interesting. The watch stopped at 9:25!
PYNE:Huh! It must be broke.
HOLMES:Well, at least, Watson, this more or less verifies the time of the murder. Now, tell us, Mr. Pyne, when you came to work, how did you get into the museum?
PYNE:The same way I always do. Through the alley door.
HOLMES:Was the alley door open or closed when you came in?
PYNE:Closed.
HOLMES:And was it locked?
PYNE:Yes, same as always. So I took me key and unlocked it, just like I always do.
HOLMES:And when you got inside, you closed the door?
PYNE:And locked it again.
HOLMES:And then what did you do?
PYNE:Went to me locker and hung up me coat. Then I went into the gallery and... I swear, I knew somethin’ was wrong the second I opened the door!
HOLMES:Mr. Pyne, tell me everything you can recall, no matter how trifling!
PYNE:Well, it was the smell.
HOLMES:What smell?
PYNE:Ever been to the zoo? It was like that. The gallery don’t ever smell like that, just the stale water smell.
HOLMES:And so, you went into the gallery.
PYNE:And I wish I hadn’t. ‘Scuse me, gent
’men... I need a bit o’ this!
SOUND EFFECT:HE PULLS THE CORK FROM A BOTTLE AND GLUGS DOWN A GOOD SLUG, NOISILY
HOLMES:Now, Mr. Pyne, you saw no one in the gallery?
PYNE:Nobody alive.
HOLMES:And then what did you do?
PYNE:I ran next door to tell Mr. Quayle.
HOLMES:And did you close and lock the alley door as you left?
PYNE:I... I don’t remember. Maybe I didn’t. But by then it was too late anyway, wasn’t it?
MUSIC:UNDERCURRENT
WATSON:The sky was just getting light as we left the watchman, shivering in his nightshirt and finding solace in his bottle. We circled round to Scotland Yard and found Inspector Gregson in his office, his tie loosened and his face deeply lined with fatigue.
MUSIC:OUT
GREGSON:The worst part of my job is telling someone their loved one is dead.
HOLMES:You’ve been to see Voland’s family.
GREGSON:His widow. She wanted me to take her to see him. I had to tell her I couldn’t, but I didn’t tell her why.
HOLMES:Did you inquire as to whether Mr. Voland had any enemies?
GREGSON:Come on, Mr. Holmes. An enemy who’d kill him and tear him apart? The Volands lived a quiet life in a modest middle-class neighborhood, on a pension from a steamship company. He worked at the Tuttman Museum as an unpaid lecturer.
HOLMES:I should like to pay Mrs. Voland a visit at some point.
GREGSON:I’ll write down her address.
HOLMES:Thank you.
GREGSON:So you’ve been to the watchman’s place, have you?
HOLMES:Yes. He seemed to be recovering.
WATSON:With a little help from the bottle.
GREGSON:Then he wasn’t much good to you.
HOLMES:On the contrary, Inspector. He said the gallery smelled like a zoo last night when he walked in and saw the scene.
GREGSON:Huh. The only animals in that place haven’t been alive for a long time.
HOLMES:The smell was present at the time of Voland’s death, but it had disappeared by the time we got there.
GREGSON:Well, I didn’t notice it. And if there was something there, how’d it get in? And how’d it get out?
SOUND EFFECT:FADE IN: TROTTING HORSE PULLING CAB UNDER
WATSON:(PAUSE) I don’t know about you, Holmes, but I’m left with a very uneasy feeling. What motive would justify tearing a man limb from limb?
HOLMES:What if there was no motive?
WATSON:There had to be a motive. Even the insane find motives to justify their irrational acts.
HOLMES:Very well, let us examine possible motives for what was done to Mt. Voland. Anger?
WATSON:I suppose, in an extreme case. But the killer would have to have been violently insane to have done what he did.
HOLMES:I fear you’ve come close to the truth, Watson. There is little doubt that we are not searching for any ordinary kind of killer!
MUSIC:UNDERCURRENT
WATSON:(NARRATING) As dawn broke over London, the coroner finished his grim work in the museum and two men from the morgue carted away the mortal remains of William Voland. Holmes retired to Baker Street and I found a cab to take me back to Paddington, where I let myself in as quietly as possible, but found Mary wide awake.
MUSIC:OUT
MARY:Did you have an exciting time of it, John?
WATSON:Exciting? It was the most brutal murder I’ve ever seen.
MARY:Can you tell me about it?
WATSON:No, I don’t want you to know about it. Besides, look at the time.
MARY:It’s all right; I’ve been dozing off-and-on since you left. Shall I make some coffee?
WATSON:No. All I want is to sleep and forget what I’ve seen.
MUSIC:LOW UNDERCURRENT
WATSON:(NARRATING) I’m not usually given to dreaming, but when I finally dropped off, I experienced the horror of what I had seen in the Tuttman Gallery over and over again. I felt as if I was trapped in that abattoir, and no matter which way I turned, some unknown slayer kept pursuing me! And then he shook me and shook me... and suddenly I was awake and Mary was crouched over me on my bed!
MUSIC:CUT
MARY:John! Wake up!
WATSON:What?
MARY:You were thrashing about and groaning!
WATSON:I was?
MARY:You were having a nightmare!
WATSON:I’m sorry, my dear...
MARY:I’ve never seen you like this before!
WATSON:I’ve never seen what I saw before! Not even in war!
MARY:Then you mustn’t go back. You mustn’t go back with Sherlock Holmes. At least not on this case.
WATSON:Oh, but I must.
MARY:Why? Out of loyalty? If anyone owes loyalty, it’s he who owes it to you! You’ve made his name a household word, and I have no doubt it’s brought him a fortune! You’re such a gentle, sweet man, John, and this work is for men with coarser sensibilities. Why torture yourself?
WATSON:Mary, I’ve been with Holmes against desperate men and mad men and every type of predator, and I like to think I may have added at least a small bit of help in bringing them to justice. (BRIGHTER) And besides, who was it wthat encouraged me to keep working with him?
MARY:But not if it does this to you!
WATSON:I’m sorry, Mary. As much as the case revolts me, it also fascinates me. And now, the real work begins. We’ll be interviewing the widow today, and inspecting the scene of the crime in the most minute detail, and I believe I am of some assistance in these things. So... now I’d appreciate a cup of coffee. And your trusting patience.
MUSIC:UNDERCURRENT
WATSON:(NARRATING) I left Mary pouting. Oh, I knew she was concerned for me, but I had to see this thing through. And so I took a cab to Baker Street, and found Holmes gone. But a note was tacked to his door, which read, “WATSON:Meet me at the Gallery”, which I did. Shafts of pale morning light streamed into the room through many skylights in the roof, flooding through the dust in the air and illuminating what looked like a tropical jungle. Then in the shadows there was a sudden movement! I admit I felt a pang of terror, thinking it was the mannequin come to life! But then I recognized the figure of Sherlock Holmes in his overcoat and cap, on his hands and knees under a massive palm tree, his magnifying glass in hand.
MUSIC:OUT
ECHO THROUGHOUT SCENE
WATSON:I came as soon as I saw your note.
HOLMES:(ALMOST WHISPERING) I’m onto something, Watson. You see all these trees and plants? They are artificial, of course, but look at the earth around them.
WATSON:What about it?
HOLMES:Footprints, made by a large, bare foot.
WATSON:I can’t make them out.
HOLMES:This display was installed several years ago, and has been collecting dust ever since. In time, dust covers everything, whereas in nature, rain and wind disperse the dust that falls. But these footprints have pressed the dust into the earth and the moisture from the artificial pond has helped keep their form. But here’s something else. There are other sets of prints, deeper than the foot prints, which appear to be those of some different kind of animal. In fact, I wouldn’t call them foot prints at all. See? A pair of them here... and here... and over here...
WATSON:But were these prints made recently, then?
HOLMES:Very recently. And many of them contain traces of blood!
WATSON:So there were two different creatures in here!
HOLMES:Possibly. Now: Observation number two. Look at the bark of these trees.
WATSON:Hmm. Artificial. And they need a good dusting too.
HOLMES:Yes, but feel their texture.
WATSON:
Hmm. It’s rather rough. Like the real thing, I suppose.
HOLMES:The trees are spaced closely. Whoever left these footprints undoubtedly brushed against the trunks. I’ve been inspecting them for bits of cloth.
WATSON:Did you find some?
HOLMES:Not a piece of fuzz or fabric or lint. But what I did find was this... which I have put in this envelope.
SOUND EFFECT:OPENS THE FLAP OF SMALL ENVELOPE
WATSON:What’s in here? Looks like a long hair. That’s all you found?
HOLMES:I can hardly wait to put it under my microscope!
QUAYLE:(OFF) I say! Who’s there?
WATSON:Doctor John H. Watson.
QUAYLE:(OFF) Oh. Watson... Watson... You were with Sherlock Holmes last night.
WATSON:That’s correct. Holmes is right here... in the jungle.
HOLMES:(LOUDLY) It’s quite all right, Mr. Quayle. Inspector Gregson arranged for us to inspect the scene of the crime.
QUAYLE:(MOVING ON) Oh, yes, now I remember! Of course, 1 knew you were coming. Thousand pardons. So much has happened... how are you, Doctor? Mr. Holmes. Are you finding anything?
HOLMES:Very little, so far.
QUAYLE:Did you see the morning papers? There must be fifty people outside at this very moment, clamoring to get in and see where it happened! They have no interest in science, only in sensation!
HOLMES:(MOVING ON) I believe you mentioned that you live next door, Mr. Quayle. Would it be convenient for us to go there for a brief chat?
QUAYLE:Why... I suppose so. Museum’s closed all day anyway. Yes. We’ll go to my place.
(ECHO DIES TO ZERO)
SOUND EFFECT:TEA SOUNDS
HOLMES:Now, last night you told us that Mr. Tuttman bought the house next door to this one and turned it into a museum.
QUAYLE:That’s right.
HOLMES:Were you living in this house at the time?
QUAYLE:No. You see, Cyril Tuttman and I were friends from school, close friends. When he built the museum, he asked me to run it for him, and he bought this house next door for me to live in.
HOLMES:Mr. Tuttman must have been quite wealthy.
QUAYLE:Oh yes, he was. Shipping. Owned several vessels.
WATSON:I must say, those animals you have in the gallery are very real looking, but they’re not like any I’ve ever seen.
