Admittedly, he had me confused, but in the end I concluded that he most certainly would have invited me to assist in the investigation, and so, I softened my position.
After my concerns had been somewhat allayed, we discussed our plans for the day, listing some of the options that we had at our disposal. Holmes suggested that we revisit Torre Abbey and give that expansive property a much closer look. We had, thus far, only given the estate a brief, cursory examination. That would account for a portion of the day, but I wondered what other plans he had in store.
Although I now knew that Holmes had visited Brandy Cove, I was certain that he would also wish to visit the other crime scenes.
Rising from the table, Holmes restated his plans to me. “Watson,” he spoke, “if it is agreeable to you, after the autopsy, we’ll go directly to Torre Abbey. I believe that vital information can be gained from a quiet talk with Cary’s butler.”
“Holmes,” I asked, “surely you are not suggesting that Malcolm is involved in any way?”
“You know, Watson,” he posed, “it is always best to examine those who are closest to the situation. For, like it or not, proximity lends itself to opportunity. No one is beyond suspicion, at least not at this point in our investigation.”
It was a short ride from our hotel to the local police station and along the way we observed the typical early morning goings on of a small town. Residents were actively making their way along the bustling main thoroughfare. Some smiles were evident at this time of the year, yet there was a hint of melancholy, doubtless the result of the rash of crimes that had plagued the quiet seaside village.
At 9:00 A.M. sharp, we reached our destination. Chief Inspector Davis was standing outside the station, carefully adjusting his hat when he spied us alighting from our landau.
Quickly rushing over to greet us, the law officer voiced, “Ah, gentlemen, right on time as I might have imagined. Well, shall we head downstairs and see what we can find?”
“Good day, Chief Inspector,” Holmes answered simply. “Hopefully, this procedure will give us a few more clues than we already have.”
“More clues?” Davis asked, cocking his head to one side.
“Mr. Holmes,” the police official continued, as the three of us rounded an open doorway, “what do you mean more clues? Why the only clue we have so far is that object that you say you discovered at Brandy Cove yesterday. Are there other bits of pertinent information that you’ve been able to glean that we might like to discuss?”
At that comment, I looked at Holmes. Surprisingly, he did not react to the snide insinuation made by the local policeman, at least not in any noticeable way. I did, however, recognize some minor displeasure in the manner by which he responded to the lawman.
“Ah, Chief Inspector,” Holmes spoke most deliberately, “one merely has to look more closely when investigating. Quite often a vital clue can be overlooked by careless presumptions, as you are sure to discover shortly.”
I smiled, being quite familiar with Holmes’s well-delivered blow to the local investigator’s arrogant insinuation.
Minutes later and we were within the bowels of the building, in a small, well-lit morgue, alongside the town coroner, Stanley Leonard. Mr. Leonard was a clean-shaven, stately-looking man who had held this position in Torquay for the last decade. He was most gracious in welcoming us to this somber procedure. He further advised us that while he took his important position very seriously, at times, he sometimes ascribed to what might be referred to as gallows humor. Holmes and I chose not to respond to such an unusual comment, but waited for the local coroner to begin his examination.
Leonard, after assuring us that he would do everything in his power to find all that could be found, pulled on his surgical mask, picked up a scalpel along with a notepad and started his work.
It was always a chilling experience to witness the manner in which the operation was performed, for that, in fact, is what the procedure truly was, and, I might add, it’s not for the squeamish.
The first thing that Leonard did was to examine Mr. Fenwick’s exterior. We watched silently as the coroner detailed some of the bruises that were present where the chains had held his wrists to the boulders. Some lesser abrasions were evident along his ankles which had been tethered to some heavy weights securing his position along the shoreline.
After duly noting these findings, the coroner put down the notepad and began the second phase of the examination, neatly slipping the scalpel down the solar plexus. Leonard calmly and expertly completed the autopsy in a timely manner with his assistant now taking notes while Leonard followed all of the established, prescribed directives for a thorough autopsy.
According to his findings, Leonard decreed the official cause of death to be drowning. Leonard painstakingly described how the poor man’s lungs would have slowly burst as wave upon wave of the rising tide gradually covered his head and body. It was horrible to ponder that kind of death.
Shortly after the official results had been recorded, Davis led Holmes and me to his office and asked what we thought of Leonard’s findings. A brief discussion took place as to the locale, approximate time of death, the horror of such premeditated murder, notification of the next of kin, list of suspects, etc. While the official was wrapping up his end of the proceedings, Holmes seemed to be lost in thought. I knew that look, having seen it so often before. It could mean only one thing, Sherlock Holmes had honed in on an important clue, one which, for the moment, he chose not to disclose to Davis.
Holmes quickly rose from his chair and, once more, thanked our host for allowing us to witness the official autopsy.
“Chief Inspector,” Holmes calmly offered, “please know that Watson and I are completely at your disposal should you require any assistance or should any pertinent information be forthcoming. We will also keep you in mind if we discover any important developments that might aid you and your competent staff in solving these crimes.”
As an afterthought, while we were leaving the room, Holmes offered, “Chief Inspector, please remember to thank Dr. Leonard for his excellent analysis.”
After making our way up the stairway and out of the station, I tugged at Holmes sleeve, “I say, Holmes, I know that you’ve found something today. Please tell me what it was and why you chose to keep it from our friend, Davis.”
“All in good time, Watson,” he replied, “all in good time! For now, we need to see Mr. Malcolm Randolph.”
“Hmmm,” I mumbled, “I see you’re doing it, again, Holmes.”
The carriage ride along the coastal road to Torre Abbey was brief but most pleasant. Many of the trees along the roadway still glimmered with the sleet that had fallen, producing a silvery-shimmering effect upon the landscape. This beautiful sight wouldn’t last much longer for the low winter sun had just now broken through the clouds and with it would come a rise in temperature.
While we were on our way, I invited our driver to tell us about himself, and asked him what he might know about Torre Abbey. We were happily surprised to learn that this young man was well-acquainted with the grounds, having worked there as one of the gardeners while a young man. He further spoke glowingly about the Cary family, informing us that they always treated their help most civilly and courteously.
“It was a privilege to work there, guv’nor,” the driver spoke respectfully as he stopped the vehicle near the front entrance.
“Tell me, young man,” offered Holmes, stepping from the carriage, “what is your opinion of their butler, Malcolm?”
“Malcolm Randolph, sir?” the carriage driver replied. “Let me say that I have only the greatest respect for the man. In all of me dealins’ wif him, he was a regular gentleman to me, he was!”
“Thank you, lad,” I said, slipping him a few farthings as he hopped back into his seat and proceeded to drive away.
After the carri
age had departed, we made our way toward the main entrance. By the time we had arrived at the top of the steps, the butler had already made his way outside holding open the door, and beckoning us to enter the magnificent vestibule with a most formal sweeping gesture.
“Gentlemen,” he voiced softly, “I welcome you back to Torre Abbey. Before I say anything else I must inform you that Mr. Cary is not on the premises today. Furthermore, I don’t expect him for several more days as he is getting his family situated at their country estate.”
The butler cordially guided us into the main parlor as he continued his running commentary.
“Please have a seat, gentlemen,” Randolph began. “Mr. Cary was insistent upon my availing myself to meet your needs while you are here. Let me assure you both that I am truly open to any and all requests that you may have in his absence, and so I am completely at your service.”
“Why that is most considerate of you,” I replied on both Holmes and my own behalf.
“I am happy to oblige,” the butler responded most amiably.
“Mr. Randolph,” Holmes inquired, “as you are aware, we are here to investigate the threats that were made upon Mr. Cary. That being the case, we are most anxious to begin our examination of the property. Is there any particular information that you might be able to provide that may aid us in our work?”
As Holmes was speaking, I noticed one of the housemaids slowly walking by the open doorway. She had a dust rag and was polishing one of the suits of armor that was located outside the parlor doorway.
The butler seemed momentarily distracted, and, “Beg pardon, sir, I lost my focus. Did you ask if I had anything to add that might help you and Doctor Watson?”
Strangely, the manservant appeared somewhat mystified by the detective’s question.
“My good man,” Holmes explained, “I only meant to give you the opportunity to give us your own account of what has been happening over the past several weeks. Spare no detail, for as Watson can attest, sometimes the smallest revelation can lead to the solution of a problem.”
For several minutes, Randolph proceeded to describe his many daily responsibilities, which included collection and sorting of Mr. Cary’s mail. He assured Holmes and me that he was very happy working for the Cary family, and hoped to continue in their employ. With regard to the threatening letter, he lowered his head as he recalled the day Mr. Cary shared his concerns over the event.
“Gentlemen,” he slowly continued, “I am still most upset for having allowed such a message to have entered this household. I can assure you that the letter never arrived by mail, so that meant that someone had to have brought it into the house, undetected.”
Shaking his head, the butler continued, “Mr. Holmes, believe me when I tell you, I am still mortified that this could have happened under my watch. Sirs, I don’t know if the Master mentioned, but I offered to tender my resignation over such a terrible blunder!”
Just then, our conversation was interrupted by the same housemaid whom I had observed working a short time ago. She was a slender, middle-aged woman who, upon entering the parlor, offered, “Oh, Mr. Randolph, excuse me. I didn’t know that you were busy.”
Calling her over, Malcolm nervously spoke, “Mrs. Bedlam, I’d like you to meet Mr. Sherlock Holmes and his associate, Doctor John Watson. These gentlemen are here to inspect the grounds and surrounding buildings which comprise Torre Abbey. It’s our annual insurance evaluation.”
“Both Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson have been given total and complete access to our estate. Perhaps, you may have seen them talking with Master Cary yesterday?” spoke Randolph.
Continuing, the butler offered, “Sirs, this is our housekeeper, Lucretia Bedlam. She has just recently begun her service to the Cary family, but she has already made her presence felt.”
At that remark, I sensed a certain discomfort on the butler’s face as he quickly turned away from the new housekeeper.
Mrs. Bedlam, after giving Randolph a nasty scowl, bowed courteously, “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, I’m sure. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll be on my way, now.”
As she was leaving, she whispered to the butler, “I need to meet with you later, Mr. Randolph.”
With that, the woman curled her lips and quickly scurried away toward the kitchen pantry. A few awkward moments passed while the butler turned back to Holmes and me, shaking his head.
The looks on our faces must have betrayed our curiosity, for Randolph quickly added, in hushed tones, “If you have sensed some discomfort on my part toward Mrs. Bedlam, I’m afraid that she and I have recently had some differences that need to be addressed. Hopefully, in time, she will come to terms with all of her responsibilities to this household.”
“We needn’t delve into internal issues at this time, Mr. Randolph,” Holmes voiced, in a comforting manner.
“I’m very sorry that I’m unable to do more to help you, Mr. Holmes,” the butler whispered, looking over his shoulder. “It’s just that I simply can’t think of anything that might be of value. I can’t.”
“Well,” Holmes voiced, cocking his head to one side, “should you think of something, please feel free to bring it to our attention.”
“Mr. Holmes, even though I have many things to do, I am ready to accompany you in your examination of Torre Abbey,” Randolph offered, continuing, “although, I suppose that would be what the Master would want.”
“No, no, my good man,” spoke Holmes, reassuringly. “We don’t require your company at this time. It’s quite unnecessary. Doctor Watson and I should have no trouble in making our way about the property. If we have future need of your services, we shall certainly seek your kind assistance.”
The genial butler seemed quite nervous at Holmes’s commentary. He shook his head and offered, “That sir, will never do. I would be neglecting my duty if I were to allow strangers the run of the place, as it were... “
Suddenly, he realized what he had suggested. “Gentlemen, please forgive my discourteous remarks. I certainly did not mean to imply that either of you were beyond trust! I simply meant that the privacy of the estate would, of necessity, be compromised to a certain degree without some type of oversight! I hope you understand.”
At that response, I must admit that my friend seemed a bit miffed. I, for one, took no umbrage at the butler’s remark. Indeed, I could easily understand his position. Holmes stared at the man for several moments before issuing, “Very good, Mr. Randolph, you have passed the first test with flying colors!”
Malcolm seemed stunned at the comment. It looked like he didn’t know whether to take Holmes’s remark as a compliment or a pointed barb.
After briefly hesitating, he replied, “Sir, I will take your statement to me as a compliment, but I would really like to know why you felt the need to test me. That being said, might I have permission to inquire what further tests you may have for me?”
Holmes smiled and suggested, “Mr. Randolph, I do appreciate your candor. I’ll be happy to disclose all in the not-too-distant future. For now, though, Doctor Watson and I will begin our evaluation of Torre Abbey. Please feel free to accompany us if you really feel it necessary.”
As Holmes and I started for the hallway, the butler quickly ran to the door, but Holmes had already opened it, offering, “After you, Mr. Randolph.”
The startled servant stopped suddenly, replying, “Oh, my, certainly not, Mr. Holmes. It is only right for me to open the door for you!”
“Ah, Mr. Randolph,” Holmes mildly scolded, waving his finger gently back-and-forth, “you, sir, are not our servant. I mean you no disrespect, for you are well-meaning in your attentiveness. Please understand, that we are perfectly capable of handling such simple tasks without troubling you.”
Malcolm began to argue the point, “Yes, yes, I appreciate what you are saying, but it would n
ever do...Why, my Master...”
Holmes raised his hand and stopped the man from continuing. “Mr. Randolph, I must insist. Please allow us to do our own bidding in this matter!”
Stunned by my companion’s remarks, the butler bowed, and started back toward the parlor, offering a parting, “Very good, sir!”
Suddenly, he stopped and called out, “Ah, Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, one more thing, sirs, if I may?”
Holmes and I waited for the servant as he quickly led us to the stairwell and, looking around, softly whispered, “Please remember what I said, sirs. I wish that I could provide more help, but I can’t!”
After he had gone, I noticed a change in Holmes’s attitude. We hastened up the staircase of the magnificent structure and made our way into the upper recesses of the historic building. While we were studying the windows for any signs of forced entry, I sauntered over to my companion and tapped his shoulder.
“Holmes,” I began, “I noticed you perked up a bit when Mr. Randolph whispered his latest remarks to us. Tell me, if you would, what have you discovered?”
Smiling, his mysterious smile, Holmes simply offered, “Watson, now is not the time. Let us continue our work. A place this size will take a good, long time to examine in detail. Sadly, our study of Torre Abbey will, at best, be cursory, for time is the enemy!”
Our search of the main house took us several hours. My companion quickly took notes of Cary’s bedroom, and his children’s bedrooms, as well. From pictures and his children’s writings and drawings, we discovered that the Cary family consisted of his lovely wife, Meredith, a six-year-old son, Thomas, and a fifteen-year-old daughter, Margaret. Cary had wisely chosen to remove all of them from the house, at least temporarily, while their safety was at stake and Holmes and I were searching for clues. Our presence would only have drawn questions and discomfort for all involved.
All of the hardwood floors were polished and well-maintained. The huge building, despite the years, had been meticulously kept. It was interesting to note that all of the bedrooms were adjacent to each other in the east wing on the second floor. Across the wide hallway, there was a large playroom. It contained a massive bookcase built into one wall containing many volumes of children’s books. Very near to the playroom was a rear staircase that was used mainly by the hired staff.
Treachery in Torquay Page 10