Sherlock Holmes and The Scarlet Thread of Murder (7 page)

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Authors: Luke Benjamen Kuhns

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BOOK: Sherlock Holmes and The Scarlet Thread of Murder
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“Perhaps she has some information that she's not passed over to us. Are you not wondering which woman the landlord saw Jackson with?”

“Ah! So she must know about this other woman? She's worried he's run off with her.” said I. “But why didn't she tell us this?”

“Quite right, why indeed,” mumbled Hewitt. He ran his finger along a table and sniffed it. He knelt down and dabbed something on the floor. Then, with a heave, he withdrew a chest from underneath the table and opened the top. “Hmm, see what we have here, Brett.”

I walked over and looked inside. “These are...”

“Explosives,” said a voice from behind us.

Hewitt and I turned to see two figures standing in the doorway.

“How can you know that?” Hewitt asked, standing up.

“Elementary,” said one of the men, taking a couple of sniffs.

“There is an aroma,” said a moustachioed man who sniffed the air. “Yes, this place has certainly been a storage room for explosive powders.”

“Who are you?” I demanded.

Chapter 10

D.I. Edmund Reid

The Thames Stand Off

August 1890

I looked at my clock. It was nine thirty, and the night air was crisp. The sky was cloudless and the stars shone down like piercing white diamonds in the sky. I wished the peace of the heavens would descend upon us here and now.

“Tonight we go to the White Stag,” I said to my group of officers. “We're going to raid and impound anyone we find with the whores. I care not who they are or what their rank is.”

“Why are we singling out this whorehouse?” an officer asked.

“One by one I'll see all these places closed. This particular one has a connection to the Underground explosion a few days ago. A Jewish anarchist, Lamech, was there the night before the explosion.” I pointed to Mr White standing at the back. “Mr White helped to identify the explosive which was attributed to Lamech. Now the Jew is dead, poisoned by the food and drink that he had at the White Stag. The bartender, Mr Jeffry, was warned what would happen without his cooperation. Tonight we return and take his business away.”

My small army of three maria rattled and rushed towards the White Stag. Hooves and wheels battered upon the cobbled roads, creating a sound akin to a war-like charge, which reverberated between the buildings. Two of the maria broke off to surround different exits while mine continued towards the front. My men had arrived and a few were standing watch outside the back doors while I and the rest stormed the front door. The others immediately rushed up the stairs to the rooms. Men shouted abuse as their whorings were interrupted. The women were screaming as they, and their clients, were apprehended.

“Where's the bartender?” I demanded of one of the staff. The men in the parlour were taken aback by our entrance. Some stared in shock while others jumped and ran towards various exits. I took a man by the collar. “Where is he?”

“He's out back!” said the man. “Ran like a headless chick.”

I darted behind the bar and pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen area. As I came through, I was greeted with an ear-piercing boom. I ducked at the sound; I was being fired upon. I withdrew my revolver and hid behind a couple of barrels.

“Jeffry!” I shouted. “Stop this now. You knew this was coming.” I peered over the barrel. Another shot was fired. An officer burst through the door and Jeffry fired again. As if everything had slowed down, I saw as the bullet shot right through the air, hitting my man in the chest. I fired two more shots, but I missed him.

“Go on, get out'a here!” I heard Jeffry yell. I looked and to my surprise; It was the tall man from Lamech's. His clothes were undone and he was struggling to reach the backdoor and escape. Jeffry fired a couple more shots, I took cover. I fired a shot and hit Jeffry in the arm. He cried out in pain as he fell over, nursing his wound. As I ran towards Jeffry Lamech's associate darted from his hiding place and through the back door. Quickly I grabbed a pair of cuffs and secured Jeffry to a pipe before making chase.

I ran out the door following the tall man go through. It was unmanned! My blood boiled with anger, had my men kept a post at this door he'd be in custody and I'd not be chasing him. I heard shouting down an alley and followed. I could see him struggling to put on a shoe. “Halt!” I cried.

He turned, panicked, and ran. He sprinted away from me and I charged onwards with full strength. He turned a corner and I heard a crash. I was moving too fast; I stumbled and fell over several wooden crates that he had knocked over. When I hit the ground, a sharp pain surged through my shoulder; I rolled and quickly picked myself up and continued the pursuit.

He was not far ahead of me when he leapt into a four wheeler and threw out the driver. He smacked the horses and the carriage charged away down the narrow street. I turned, and saw a hansom not five yards away. I ordered the driver make haste and follow.

We charged down the poorly lit streets causing chaos. Yelps and hollers whizzed passed as people dove out of our way. We were not far from the Thames. My heart raced. I could see the river ahead now, and a small dock. I was not prepared for a water pursuit. I saw him pull his carriage to a fierce stop and leap out. I was jolted when my driver hit a severe hole in the road. A wheel broke and fell off and the cab tipped over. The compartment was dragged some distance before the horse tripped and collapsed. I stumbled out, my driver was pulling himself up, the tall man fiddling inside a small boat. I raced towards him, revolver ready, and yelled at him to stop. He was in the process of untying a small vessel and I fired a shot into the air. He looked at me and stood upright.

“Step out of the boat!” I ordered.

“You can do nothing, Reid,” he said.

“You are under arrest for the murder of Eustace Brown...”

“Me! I did what had to be done. He smeared my family's name in that paper.”

“Dead or alive, you're coming with me.” He smiled back. I could see his white teeth under the pale moonlight. “Step out of the boat.” He began to laugh and with a quick move he pulled out a revolver and held it to his head.

“I tell you now, Reid, these are dark times.” He tightened the grip on his revolver. “What will be will be. We fight the good fight.” His hand was shaking. “I did what I did, and I won't go down for it. Not in an English court!”

“Put the revolver down and we'll talk,” I said softly. The man started to laugh.

“If only you knew... If only you really knew what was coming, Mr. Reid. This is a dead end for you, but it's only a beginning for me. God welcomes me home.”

“Where has your clan gone?” I asked.

“On the path of redemption,” he returned. He pulled the trigger and the bullet shot through his head. He fell to the side and into the murky water. I raced over to try and retrieve him, but it was too late. His body was gone. Eventually it would break shore but by then it'd be no use to me.

***

I returned to the station where it was abuzz with the shouts of whores and angry clients. Jeffry was waiting for me in my office, being watched over by Kipling. I took a seat at my desk and looked at him. His arm had been bandaged, but he still held his arms like a pouting child.

“I told you, Jeffry,” I began, “you cooperate or we end your whore business. This is what happens when one does not heed my warning.”

“You're busy busting those who make money off whores rather than finding the man who guts them like pigs!” Jeffry shouted. My face flashed with heat as my blood boiled at his remark.

“Speak not of what you do not know,” I said sternly. “Now, Lamech was at your establishment the night before the explosion, was he not?”

“He was, yes,” Jeffry reluctantly admitted.

“What did he eat?”

“Can't remember,” Jeffry shrugged.

“But he ate,”

“Well, yeah. He and that other chap,” Jeffry confirmed.

“What other chap?” I pressed.

“A whiskered man with a cut on his face.”

“Who is he?”

“I don't rightly know. Never seen him before.”

“Never? What did he look like? Did he engage with any other people?”

“He wore a flat cap that was pulled down low, I remember. So I never got a good look at his face,” said Jeffry.

“What was his and Lamech's demeanour?” I asked.

“They were quiet, sitting at a table in the corner away from people. Both sat with their backs to the wall. I supposed they wanted to see what people were doing.”

“Did they leave together?”

“No, the other man left first.”

“How did the two depart? Peaceful or agitated?”

“I don't know. It was a busy night. I didn't just watch them!” Jeffry was flushed.

“Why were you helping Lamech's associate escape?”

“What do you mean?”

“We caught him, Jeffry. Don't treat me as the fool.”

“What did he tell you?” Jeffry squirmed in his chair.

“Who poisoned the food Lamech ate.”

“Poisoned? I don't know what you're talking ‘bout.” His eyes shifted and he held his arm a little tighter.

“He told us everything. You'll do well to tell me the truth.”

“I don't know what he told you about poison, but we, or I, had nothing to do with that! That wasn't our plan!”

“What was your plan then?”

“Err, we... we didn't have a plan.”

“Don't play games!” I shouted, smacking my fist on the desk.

“I know nothing!” he yelled back.

“Well, you better clear your story then.” Jeffry hung his head. “You're going away, forever. I'll make sure you never feel fresh air upon your face again. I'll make sure you are buried so low sunlight will be nothing but a fairy tale to you.”

“I didn't poison him! I just helped Jacob, Lamech's dead lanky associate, get his family out of the city.” I took the name down and looked back at Jeffery. “Why was Jacob at your inn?”

“He was seeing things through. Making sure everyone was gone and there was no trace. If he knew anything about the poisoning, he didn't tell me. He simply paid me a good sum of money to help get the anarchists out before people like Myers came storming at them.”

“Take him away,” I instructed exhausted.

Kipling grabbed Jeffry and stood him up. I leaned back in my chair and gazed at the ceiling puffing my cheeks out.

***

Kipling and White entered my office an hour later. White took a seat while Kipling remained standing. I leaned forward resting my elbows on my desk.

“What can we do now, Reid?” White asked, crossing his legs and stroking his chin.

“We can only hope some clue crops up where the train was stationed the night before.”

“Otherwise?” Kipling asked.

“Otherwise we're dead in the water!” I snapped. I paused a moment. Kipling was shocked at my outburst. I allowed myself to calm before I said: “There are no other options. With the tall man, Jacob, dead, and the anarchists vanished, there is little we can now follow.”

“Don't suppose there's more the bartender isn't telling you?” White asked.

“He's a buffoon. We'll keep him within arm's reach for the time, but I cannot say with conviction that he is of aid to us,” I returned.

“I'm sorry I can't be of more help myself,” admitted White. “The compounds in the explosive and the poison - I wouldn't even know where to begin looking for them in this city, or any city for that matter.”

“There must be another thread to this mystery... There must be,” I whispered. “Gentlemen, let's follow the rail tracks.”

***

It was with great disappointment that we returned empty handed from our investigation. We learnt nothing from where the train had been kept overnight. Not a single person had seen anything or was willing to tell us if they had. The whole thing became one of many open investigations that would remain dead in the water.

Over the next few months, Jeffry was locked away in Pentonville. Before his hanging, we attempted to get more information out of him regarding Jacob, but it proved useless. His public house was searched over and over and it, too, yielded no results. We looked far and wide for any sign of the anarchists, but Lamech's entire tribe had all vanished. Whoever killed Lamech had got away with it. Whoever planted the explosive had also escaped our grasp. DCI Johnstone's temper burned red when he came to see me on the matter. He showed no mercy on my department and threatened my job on several occasions. I looked for hope, for an answer to the solution that would aid us in solving this problem, but I had nowhere to turn.

Chapter 11

Doctor Watson.

Discovery At Nine Elms

Autumn 1890

“Watson!” echoed Holmes' voice. I heard the sound of his feet racing up the stairs. I rose from my seat as he burst into the study. “Come, Watson. We're off to Putney.”

“Are you going to tell me why or where in Putney we are going?”

“Davenport House! Now come, Watson.”

Once we were in a cab, I demanded Holmes tell me what he had learnt.

“First, I know how Daniels was being poisoned.” My interest was piqued. “The mud found in Daniels' house was telling. We know he hadn't been anywhere suspicious since we met him. We also know the state of his house upon our visit. There was no mud. Yet, I found some there. Daniels was certainly not alone. He was yelling at someone. I could tell from the mud that it came from a factory by the river; I have narrowed down the mixture of mud and sand to somewhere near Nine Elms. As it happens, Daniels has a small factory just there. So someone from around his factory had come into his house, and mud had fallen from their shoes.”

“That doesn't explain how he was being poisoned.”

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