by Hugh Ashton
“ To what do you attribute her interest in you, then?”
“ Principally, I believe, to the fact that I was a regular customer, who helped provide her and her husband with an income. Also,” and here Holmes appeared to be somewhat embarrassed, “ I was a younger man in those days, and my appearance was said by some to be approaching handsome. It may be that there was a degree of attraction on her side, but I would not like to state for certain that that was so. Later, I was to ascribe a different reason for her interest, which I will relate in due course.
“ In any event, it seemed to me that the interest and the liking for me which was at first apparent disappeared after a few meetings, and indeed, seemed to turn to a positive dislike.”
“ Such is often the way,” I remarked.
“ Is that so ? I lack your experience in these matters, Watson,” he smiled. “ In any event, I met the woman per- haps a half dozen of times before poor Ricoletti’s life was shattered by a terrible event.
“ I was dressing in my rooms in Montagu-street, when there was a frantic knocking on my door.
“ ‘ Signor Holmes ! Signor Holmes ! ’ came the cry, followed, in a quaint mixture of English and Italian, by ‘ Come quickly and save me. It is terrible news that I have.’
“ I replied to Ricoletti, for I recognised his voice immediately, that I would be joining him soon, and I hurriedly threw on the remainder of my clothes. I opened the door to my room, to discover the poor Italian sitting on the top step of the stairs, wringing his hands and moaning.
“ ‘ She is dead,’ he said, turning a tear-stained face to me, and speaking his quaint mixture of English and Italian, ‘ and they will say that I killed her. But I did not, Signor. I did not ! ’
“ The vehemence of his denial struck me, and though, as you know, one can never be certain in these matters, it appeared to me to be extremely unlikely that he could be guilty of murder. I extended my hand to him, and bade him rise and tell me more in the comfort of my room, to which I conducted him.
“ I sat him in a chair, and poured him a little brandy and water, which he accepted gratefully, and sipped as he told me his story.
“ ‘ We had closed the restaurant the previous night and taken ourselves to our bed,’ he began.
“ ‘ Excuse the impertinence of the question,’ I interrupted him, ‘ but had you and your wife quarrelled earlier?’
“ ‘ Ah yes,’ he answered me sadly. ‘ And what an argument. She threw pots and pans at me. See here.’ The poor fellow pulled up a sleeve to disclose a livid bruise which was obviously the result of a blow from a hard object. From the shape of the contusion, the implement could quite possibly have been a cooking pan of some kind. ‘ She shouted and screamed such names as I will not repeat here. Indeed, she shouted so loud that our neighbours called in the police, believing that I was murdering her. But it was not I who was attacking her – it was the other boot on the foot,’ he said, in a quaint turn of English phrasing.
“ ‘ And the police arrived?’
“ ‘ Indeed, there were two of them. I was able to assure them that I was not the attacker, and that my wife was experiencing some of those changes in mood to which women are subject at regular intervals.’
“ ‘ You did not, by chance, notice the numbers of the police constables who visited you?’
“ ‘ Alas, no.’
“ ‘ No matter. May I enquire the nature of the quarrel between you and your wife?’
“ He shrugged expressively. ‘ With women it is always money that comes first, is it not ? She insists that I give all the money that we make from our restaurant. I tell her she has it all. She says to me that I am holding back the money from her. I tell her no, and then she starts to shout. And then she throws things at me,’ he said, ruefully rubbing his arm. ‘ Pots and pans and even a knife.’”
“ The old story,” I said to Holmes. “ An attractive woman married to an older husband takes a lover, who demands money as the price of his silence, once he has taken his fun and tired of her.”
Sherlock Holmes raised his eyebrows a little at my speech. “ You astonish me with your knowledge of these matters, my dear Watson,” he said, with that characteristic half-smile of his. “ As it happens, my mind was working along similar lines to the ones you have just described, and as discreetly as I could, I asked Ricoletti if he was aware of any friendships outside their marriage which might account for these moods. He denied it, and I believed him. There was in his face nothing but sincerity. I therefore requested him to continue with his story.
“ ‘ It is my task to buy the meat and vegetables each morning, and I usually leave the house early in order to procure the finest ingredients at the best price at the market. This morning, I left Bianca in bed asleep. I returned with my purchases not twenty minutes ago, a little after half-past seven. Usually she is awake on my return, but today, no. I go upstairs, and there she is in bed, slain. Blood everywhere, and one of the knives from the kitchen lying beside her head.’
“ ‘ She is still there?’ I asked him. ‘ You touched nothing?’
“ ‘ Nothing,’ he assured me.
“ ‘ And you give me your solemn word that you are not responsible for her death.’ He looked at me and held my gaze. ‘ Signor, I swear to you by the Virgin and all the saints that I did not kill her and that I had nothing to do with her death. But who will believe me ? I will be hanged for a crime I did not commit,’ he wailed.
“ ‘ You have given me your word that you did not kill her, and I believe you,’ I told him. ‘ Trust in me, and I will ensure that you never even come to trial.’
“ It was heartening to see the man’s face clear at my words. One of the joys of my profession is that I am able to restore hope to those who may feel at times that hope has abandoned them. ‘ Come, let us be off,’ I said to him, taking up the bag that contained the tools of my trade.
“ On the pavement outside our house, I encountered a constable. ‘ There has been murder committed in this house,’ I said to him, pointing to the restaurant. ‘ Murder of this man’s wife. I have every reason to believe he is innocent, but I feel it is my duty to lay the facts before the police.’ As I spoke to the officer of the law, I saw Ricoletti’s face turn ashen.
“ ‘ Quite right, too, sir,’ said the policeman. ‘ May I ask where you two gentlemen are going now?’
“ ‘ Why, I wish to view the body,’ I told him.
“ ‘ Are you a doctor or something, then, sir?’ asked the bobby.
“ ‘ My name is Sherlock Holmes,’ I told him, and passed him my card. ‘ I wish you to accompany us, but before we visit the scene of the crime together, I would like you to use your whistle to summon one of your fellow-constables, and inform Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard of the incident, requesting him to come here as soon as possible.’
“ ‘ I don’t know who you think you are, ordering a police officer around like that,’ he complained to me.
“ ‘ Believe me, if the Inspector finds out you have not cooperated with me on this, you will find yourself in trouble, my lad,’ I told him. He looked me up and down, and pulled out his whistle, which he used to summon another constable, to whom he repeated my instructions.”
“ Could you really have made trouble for the constable?” I asked Holmes curiously. “ I am aware that your relationship with Lestrade now is such that you could achieve such a thing, but at that stage in your career would it have been possible?”
Holmes laughed. “ It was bluff on my part, Watson. But bluff, when executed with confidence, can prove as effective as any other argument. At any event, the three of us, the constable, Ricoletti, and myself, made our way up the dingy narrow stairs where the dead woman awaited us, shrouded in a ghastly halo of blood on the pillow. From our position by the door, it appeared that her throat had been pierced, and an artery severed.
“ ‘ Please do not enter the room,’ I ordered the other two, as I dropped to my knees and examined the floor with my lens
. It took less than a minute to ascertain that my friend was almost certainly innocent, and I stood up.
“ ‘ There’s nothing to see, is there, sir?’ the constable said to me, with a faint mocking emphasis on the last word. ‘ Shall we go in now?’
“ ‘ It is vital that we all stay out of the room until the Inspector arrives,’ I told him, placing myself in the doorway in such a way that he would have to manhandle me in order to enter. In the event, we had not long to wait. Lestrade arrived, with all the signs of a man who has dressed and shaved in a hurry.
“ ‘ Good morning, Holmes,’ he greeted me, none too affectionately, I admit. ‘ I trust this was worth my missing breakfast.’ He peered into the room. ‘ Who is she?’ he asked brusquely.
“ I introduced Ricoletti as the widower, and declared my faith in his innocence. Lestrade grunted at my pronouncement, but invited me to explain myself. ‘ I am sure you have reasons for your belief,’ he said to me.
“ Accordingly, I invited Lestrade to examine the floor with me, and I was clearly able to show to him, through an examination of the impressions in the shabby carpet which covered the floor, that a pair of feet had crossed the floor from the door to the bed, and then, stained with blood, had crossed the floor again and gone out of the door. Although the marks of Ricoletti’s feet were also visible, they were in a different part of the floor and had been made after the first set, and were strikingly different. There was no doubt in my mind as to the order in which the prints had been made, and I was pleased to see that Lestrade agreed in full with my conclusions, once they had been made clear to him.
“ ‘ Very good, Mr. Holmes,’ he said. ‘ I am perfectly prepared to believe that these are the footprints of the man who killed Mrs. Ricoletti. I also observe Mr. Ricoletti’s unfortunate deformity in the shape of his club-foot, and accept that it is not he who has made these prints. I will require you to answer some questions, though, Ricoletti. I must say, though, that you do not appear to be overly stricken with grief at your loss, if I may say so.’
“ Knowing the relationship between Ricoletti and his wife, I could not resist a smile, which I trust remained inward only, and did not show itself on my face. The widower answered Lestrade frankly, and I believe honestly. ‘ I cannot truthfully say I am sorry, sir. The woman made my life a misery, and my life, though it will be hard for me to keep the restaurant without her, will be an easier one.’
“ ‘ Then you go with the constable here to the station and await my arrival. Mr. Holmes, have you examined the body?’
“ ‘ Not at all. Do you want to call the police surgeon?’ “ Lestrade waited until the constable was down the stairs
before he answered me in a low voice. ‘ No, Mr. Holmes, I do not. The police surgeon available to me today is a drunken oaf and his assistant is little more than a schoolboy. I believe that you and I are possessed of at least a modicum of common-sense in these matters, so let us examine the wound.’”
“ That would seem to be a rather damning indictment of the police surgeon at that time,” I said to Holmes.
“ It was, I fear, an accurate one at that time. Lestrade’s judgement in this particular instance could not be faulted. Matters have improved in that department since then, however. In any event, Lestrade and I moved to the bed, taking care not to disturb, as far as was possible, the footprints noted earlier.
“ ‘ Halloa ! ’ I exclaimed, looking at the knife and comparing it to the gory wound in the dead woman’s neck. ‘ This knife is not the murder weapon ! ’
“ ‘ But it is covered in blood,’ Lestrade objected.
“ ‘ It is not covered,’ I pointed out. ‘ Some blood has somewhat inartistically been daubed on the blade in a way that could never have occurred naturally, in an attempt to make us believe that this is the murder weapon. It is, Ricoletti informed me, a knife from the restaurant kitchen, and was therefore placed here in an attempt to deceive. If further proof is needed, examine the wound, and ask your- self whether this knife could have produced this wound.’
“ Lestrade bent over the body and proceeded to examine the corpse. ‘ You are right. This wound was produced by a stiletto or some such similar knife.’
“ ‘ The Italian assassin’s traditional weapon,’ I reminded him.
“ ‘ A former lover?’ suggested Lestrade.
“ I shook my head. ‘ I feel there is something more to it than that,’ I said. ‘ Look here.’ By the side of the bed stood a picture of Mary and the Holy Infant. ‘ That, though you may not know it, Lestrade, is a reproduction of Our Lady of Naples, sometimes known as the Black Madonna. An image which is particularly sacred to those criminal gangs of the city, known collectively as the Camorra.’
“ ‘ You think this is a gang killing?’ asked Lestrade.
“ ‘ I cannot say with certainty without further proof, of course,’ I answered, ‘ but were I a wagering man, I would be almost certain of it.’
“ ‘ There are women in these gangs?’ asked Lestrade.
“ ‘ I believe in some cases, the women are the leaders,’ I told him.”
“ How did you come to know of this?” I asked Holmes.
“ My interests, as you know, are wide-ranging, and in this modern age, where honest men so often cross borders, it seemed to me that rogues and villains might also do so. It seemed to me to be expedient to gain at least a superficial knowledge of the malefactors of other countries – the Apaches of Paris, and the banditti of the Latin nations, for example. The Camorra are notorious for the wide range of their activities, as well as the fragmentary nature of their organization.
“ In any event, we left the chamber of death and made our way to the police station, where Ricoletti was waiting for us. I decided that there was little or no point in beating about the bush, and I therefore asked him directly, ‘ Was your wife Bianca in any way connected with the Camorra?’
“ ‘ Why, yes,’ he replied, looking nervously about him.
“ ‘ And you?’ Lestrade asked.
“ ‘ No, never, I swear it,’ he assured us with great earnestness. ‘ Listen to me, and I will explain all. It may seem strange to you that I,’ and he gestured towards his deformed foot, ‘ should be united with a woman such as she, who possessed such beauty. But I can tell you that it was not by her choice, nor mine, that we were married.
“ ‘ Her father was one of the leaders of a Camorra gang, and Bianca, from an early age, was a wild one, with a temper that would make grown men shake with fear. Because of this, and because of her father’s reputation, no man would take her in marriage, despite her good looks. Her father was likewise frightened that she, if allied to another member of the gangs, would seek to overthrow his position.
“ ‘ At that time, I was working in a restaurant in Naples where Bianca and her father often visited, and I waited upon them at their table. On one occasion, I was serving them their meal, and they were arguing bitterly. It appeared that Signor Capatelli wished his daughter to enter a convent, I assume as a measure of self-protection, but as you can guess, she would have none of it.
“ ‘ “ Why, I would sooner marry that cripple there ! ” she shrieked, pointing at me.
“ ‘ “ And so you shall,” her father said to her. Whereupon, before either she or I could fully grasp the situation, we were married within the week, and her father had bought the restaurant where I was working, and presented it to us as a wedding gift. I do not know how achieved his goal, but he forced Bianca to work in the kitchen, where she transpired to have a real gift as a cook, as you, Signor Holmes, can testify.
“ ‘ But she chafed at the marriage and the life of a restaurant, and one day she proposed to me that we move to London, telling me that her father had suggested the move to her, and given her the money, which she displayed to me, to effect the change. I, like a fool, agreed.’
“ ‘ Why do you call yourself a fool?’ I asked him.
“ ‘ Because it was all a lie,’ he replied. ‘ The money had been stolen
from her father, who had no knowledge of her intention of moving to London, but I only discovered the truth by chance. We had been here for a short while only, when I was accosted one day by one of my fellow-countrymen, who spoke to me in the rough dialect of the Neapolitan back streets.
“ ‘ “ We know who you are, and what you have stolen from us,” he said to me. I protested that I had no knowledge of what he was saying, and he proceeded to inform me of my wife’s crimes. I managed to persuade him of my lack of involvement in the business, but he said to me, “ You may be safe from the vengeance of the Camorra, but your wife will never know a day’s peace. One day, when she is least expecting it, her father’s retribution will pierce her lovely throat like an arrow. It may come tomorrow, or it may come in one year or even longer. But make no mistake, Signor, it will come as surely as the night follows the day.”
“ ‘ When I returned home, I talked to Bianca, who went deathly pale at the knowledge that her theft had been discovered. From that day on, she became a devil. Her temper became even worse than before, and it was clear to me she was in a constant state of fear that the assassin would find her. And so it transpired, as I discovered this morning.’ Ricoletti sat in a posture of defeat, his elbows on his knees, and his head buried in his hands. Lestrade and I looked at each other.
“ ‘ It is as good an explanation as any,’ Lestrade said to me. ‘ You have shown me, Mr. Holmes, that this unfortunate is innocent of his wife’s murder. And it would seem to me to be a waste of time to go searching for an unknown Italian assassin, who by now is probably safely back on the ship by which he reached these shores.’
“ ‘ I agree,’ said I. It was now clear to me that the woman had taken an interest in me, not on account of any qualities of my person, but because of my profession. It is quite possible that she had in mind some use for me as a defence of some kind against those she expected, with good reason, to be sent against here.