Treachery in Torquay

by Lawler, W. P. ;

  “Yes, Mr. Holmes,” she whimpered, disappearing through the front door of her home as our carriage headed back to our lodgings.

  In no time at all, we were back in our comfortable hotel suite, savoring the soothing effects of a warming toddy. Holmes was still busy organizing notes he had made earlier in the week. For my part, I was much too fatigued to pay attention to the occasional mumbled whispered outbursts that often accompanied his subconscious analysis of information gleaned over the past several days.

  It had been a most tiring morning and, like most people, I was content to merely close my eyes hoping to restore my strength, which I might add, had been truly sapped. Not my friend, however. When he was totally engaged, sleep was anathema to his methods. A good night’s rest was a waste of time in his logical mind, for Holmes believed that seconds lost could result in tragic consequences.

  “Confound it,” he sputtered, brusquely filing his papers back into his briefcase.

  Shaking his head back and forth, he walked past the bureau and pulling back a curtain, peered out over the rocky coastline below. After pausing there for a brief time, he struck a match to his briar. Slowly, he shuffled over to an armchair near the glowing fireplace and took his seat. He seemed deep in thought as he sat there. The furrowed brows and voluminous puffs of smoke indicated a serious problem had arisen; one that was obviously most troubling.

  I sensed his frustration and, normally, I’d avoid striking up any conversations while he languished in this malaise.

  This time, though, I felt compelled to ask, “Holmes, might there be any way that I could be of assistance?”

  At my request, he smiled and mildly chided, “Good friend, I appreciate your kind offer, but now is not the time.”

  Well, I had made the offer and it had been declined. Perhaps it was just as well, for I was beginning to feel very weak. That was it, I needed nourishment! I realized that it was nearing midday and I was famished.

  “I say, Holmes, how does a brief afternoon meal sound to you?” I inquired.

  My questioned went unanswered, and while waiting for his response, suddenly a cadenced series of raps came from outside of the door to our suite.

  “Whom do you suppose that might be?” I asked my colleague.

  While reaching for the knob I was startled to observe Holmes, pistol in hand, standing near one of the hotel room dressers. Holding his hand over his mouth, he signaled for me to remain where I was. Momentarily stunned, I did as I was told. While we waited anxiously, there came a low whistle from the hallway beyond.

  Much to my surprise, Holmes lowered his weapon, and opened the door voicing, “It’s all right, Watson. It’s only Wiggins and Mr. Roberts come to call.”

  The two men quickly entered the room offering, “Good day, Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson. We thought you would want to learn of our most recent findings as soon as possible.”

  “Indeed we do, gentlemen,” Holmes replied, suggesting, “please take a seat” as he pointed to the hotel room chairs.

  Turning to me he ordered, “Watson, call down for some lunch for us. There’s a good man.”

  Several minutes later found our group enjoying some delicious luncheon items.

  Between bites, Roberts and Wiggins took turns explaining their latest discoveries.

  “I’m glad you had a chance to examine our cave findings, gentlemen, but we have more information to share with you,” Roberts remarked. “Please continue, Wiggins.”

  Wiggins began, “Mr. Holmes, Bobo and I did find several interesting bits of information about several of those individuals that you wanted us to investigate.”

  “Well,” implored Holmes, rubbing his hands together with much excitement, “come on, lads, let’s hear it!”

  Wiggins smiled as he continued, “As you have learned from our earlier report, Mr. Holmes, when we first arrived in Torquay, we spent several days acquainting ourselves with the businesses, buildings, streets, some of the citizenry, etc. By sheer luck, we happened to be present at a town gathering that was to become terribly disruptive.

  We learned that many of the town residents were naturally upset when it was reported that yet another council member had been killed. There was much turmoil and agitation at the news, with many of the citizens ready to riot over the lack of results in the police investigations. No one had yet been charged for any of the murders that had occurred over the last several months, and the community was rightfully concerned.

  Bobo and I quietly observed the actions of the group, and noticed that it had begun to act very much like a hostile mob, growing in size and fervor. Both of us believed that were it not for the intervention of a local minister, there could have been a great deal of trouble. This man, Vicar David Prentiss, made his way to the top of the steps of the town hall, waving his arms wildly. He immediately called upon the boisterous crowd, demanding proper civility. After some calming words, he bade the residents go home and care for their loved ones. He tried to allay their rising fears, insisting that the proper authorities were doing their very best, and would continue to do so until justice was done.

  Well, while Bobo and I listened to him address his fellow citizens, we were intrigued by his calm demeanor. We could sense that there was something about him, I don’t know exactly what, but he seemed to possess some type of special charisma, I suppose you might call it. His words to the angry gathering had a remarkably soothing effect upon them. When he had finished, the group disbanded and quietly returned to their homes and workplaces, just as he had requested. Although there were still some individuals mumbling their dissatisfaction, most seemed much more subdued.

  At any rate, Bobo and I decided to call upon the good Vicar and looked for an opportunity to do so. Initially, we lost sight of him but as the crowd thinned we were able to catch him as he neared his manse. After introducing ourselves, we requested to speak to him. He seemed a bit timorous at first, but welcomed us into the simple dwelling, just the same.

  We began our conversation identifying ourselves as tourists from London, here to enjoy the Christmas season in historic Torquay. We further remarked that it must have been Providence that placed us here to witness his address to the frenzied gathering. We articulated our need to compliment him for his extraordinary efforts in quelling a most dangerous situation.

  He seemed to relax a bit after our praise, but he again pressed us as to why we felt the need to talk to him. Bobo restated how touched we were with his remarks, once more stressing how impressed we were at the calming effect they had had on the townsfolk. After Bobo had finished, Vicar Prentiss softened even more. For, as you might have surmised, the more we complimented the cleric’s impassioned speech, the more comfortable he became in our company.

  After several more minutes of pleasant conversation, the Vicar thanked us for our kind words, promising that he would continue to speak up whenever he could help maintain order in his community. He then apparently felt the need to provide us with another sermon emphasizing the importance of all the town residents to change their evil ways. ‘Only then,’ he concluded, ‘would the murders stop.’

  We thanked him for his time, explaining that we would soon be returning home to spend New Year’s Day with our loved ones. And that was that!”

  “That is, until we ran into the Vicar again, yesterday afternoon,” interjected Bobo.

  “Go on, my good man,” Holmes pleaded. “Pray tell us what else you have uncovered.”

  Bobo smiled, then began again. “Of course, both Wiggins and I were keen to learn more about the man since his was the first name on that list you gave us the other day.”

  As Wiggins swished a sip of tea, he motioned Bobo to continue talking.

  “Well, gentlemen,” the tiny investigator spoke in a most calculating, ponderous manner, “Wiggins and I were on our way to an early dinner when we spied himself walking very quic
kly down Torbay Road. Upon seeing us, he politely doffed his cap and proceeded on his way, but it seemed to us that he had suddenly increased his pace.

  Naturally, we had planned to follow him, perhaps to get another interview, but to do so, we would have to walk much faster. We were closing fast, calling out to him, but upon arriving home, he unlatched the door and quickly disappeared, pretending not to have heard us.

  I reached out for Wiggins and directed him quietly down an adjacent street. When we were out of sight of the Vicar’s dwelling, we discussed our next move. Should we simply knock on his door and try to start up another conversation? Surely, he might find that to be highly suspicious. Then, we thought about stealthily sneaking up along the exterior walls of the house and try to sneak a peek through the windows. Maybe we could gather some information in that way. But, how much information could be gained from so great a distance?

  After a short discussion, we agreed that the best form of action would be to walk directly up to his front door, ask to see him and, if he were agreeable, discuss what he thought about the murders. And that is exactly what we did.

  Prentiss, while acting civilly toward us, seemed extremely anxious. He offered to brew some tea, but we told him we didn’t want to trouble him. We said that we were curious about what he thought of the most recent murder.

  ‘Have you learned any more about the last murder victim, a Mr. Fenwick, I believe?’ Wiggins offered.

  Prentiss scowled and remarked, ‘Yes, another poor soul has been taken from our community, and another member of the town council.’

  ‘Gentlemen, I’m afraid that I have no answer, but surely there must be some connection, all of the victims members of our local governing body,’ the religious leader stated sadly.

  The Vicar continued, ‘For some reason, our constabulary continues to move very slowly with these investigations. Why that should be, I cannot surmise.’

  ‘What about the Druids?’ I questioned. ‘Though we’ve only been here for a few days, we’ve overheard many people mention their names as possible suspects.’

  The Vicar shrugged his shoulders, issuing, ‘You know, gentlemen, I have not had the time nor inclination to meet their leader, Terra, I believe that is how he is addressed. Why I wouldn’t recognize him if I tripped over him. I don’t know what else to say about these crimes. I certainly have no knowledge as to who would want to kill those gentlemen.’

  It was obvious at that remark that Prentiss did not want to say any more, so we slowly rose from our places and thanked him for his time. He courteously walked us out to the hallway, and wished us well.

  Then, before we were out the door, Wiggins, here, stopped suddenly, raised his hand, turned and faced the minister and said, ‘Thank you again for your time, Vicar Prentiss, you have been most kind indulging our curiosity and we do appreciate it.’

  Prentiss bowed his approval in a seemingly embarrassing manner.

  Suddenly, something seemed to jog Wiggins’s mind and he called back, ‘Oh, Vicar, I was just wondering where you might have attended seminary? If you don’t mind my asking. Judging by the way you handled Torquay’s rebellious town folk, I’m sure you must have attended one of England’s finest institutions. Might I inquire where you received your ordination?’

  The question seemed to have caught the man completely off guard, for he paused, thought about it for a moment and mumbled something to the effect that he had received a wonderful religious education! And with that, the door was closed and we left the Reverend David Prentiss.”

  I looked at Holmes, waiting for some kind of remark, but he seemed totally preoccupied, tapping the ash from his pipe.

  “Hmmm... Mr. Bob-o,” I spoke, adding a suggestive remark, “If Holmes and I had had that same experience, we would most certainly have followed up on the Vicar’s deliberate evasiveness! Gentlemen, we would have searched until we had located the seminary.”

  Mr. Roberts gave me a strange look, “Dr. Watson, that is exactly what Wiggins and I did... And, please try to remember, it’s Bo-bo, not Bob-o...”

  Realizing that I had mispronounced his name yet again, I apologized. “Mr. Bo-Bo, I’m very sorry. I just can’t seem to remember how to say your name.”

  Wiggins smiled at my remark and took over, relating, “Gentlemen, there’s more. After checking with all of the seminaries in England, nowhere, nowhere did the name David Prentiss appear!”

  Holmes smiled, “You might have suspected as much, for our Vicar Prentiss could have chosen to use an alias!”

  “Hmm, an alias, Holmes?” I queried.

  “Yes, Watson,” he added to his previous remark, “Vicar Prentiss may have been ordained using another surname, or for that matter, not at all. He may merely be posing as a minister.”

  Then Holmes turned back to Bobo and Wiggins, “Tell me, what else have you to report.”

  Bobo suddenly became very animated, and after hopping up on a hotel wing chair, opened a valise he had earlier placed on a table. Lifting it high above his head, he smiled and bid us to pay close attention.

  “What else, gentlemen? Why we’ve quite a bit more for you to consider,” Roberts teased, shaking the case.

  “Gentlemen, Wiggins and I left the town square after talking with the Vicar and promptly took our landau to the site of the most recent murder, deciding to delay our evening repast. When we arrived at the scene, there were still a few curious onlookers standing around along with some police presence, all waiting for Chief Inspector Davis to make his entrance.

  After his carriage arrived, he signaled for us to join him. We quickly followed him to a sectored off plot along Babbacombe Road where poor Dennison’s body had been found. Davis seemed pleased to see us, whereupon we were informed that the poor man had been strangled. The type of device used by the murderer had yet to be identified, but Davis believed it to have been a laqueus used by the Romans who invaded England. Davis had seen a similar implement while searching through a list of ceremonial items used by Druid priests. He had learned that it was a tool used to strangle small animals as sacrificial offerings to Mother Earth.

  Wiggins was curious as to why the lawman was proceeding along those lines, and Davis responded rather pointedly, ‘Why Mr. Wiggins, the first two atrocities were performed following ancient Druid ritualistic procedures. I thought it would be valuable to delve deeper into their culture!’

  By the look on our faces, the Chief Inspector knew we were somewhat confused by his remark.

  Smiling sheepishly, he elaborated, ‘Obviously, the clues are simple enough to understand, are they not? Terra and his followers must be behind all of these murders. Surely, you must come to the same conclusion...’

  Wiggins and I shook our heads to the affirmative, pretending to agree with his findings, but Davis was looking for some comment from us, any comment.

  ‘Well, gentlemen?’ he asked.

  ‘Why, yes, certainly seems that way, doesn’t it, Wiggins?’ I urged, nudging my friend.

  Wiggins seemed confused by my response, but caught my drift and offered, ‘Of course, Mr. Roberts. Chief Inspector Davis appears to have enough information to make an arrest.’

  Davis smiled proudly, issuing, ‘Well, kind of you to say, gentlemen, but I’m not quite ready to issue a warrant. There are a few more details I need to investigate.’

  And the lawman quickly bid us adieu, hopped back into this carriage, and left the scene to his fellow officers.”

  Holmes sat quietly for several minutes while Wiggins and Bobo looked anxiously for his response to their findings.

  I, too, was most interested in what my friend might have to say, but he remained quietly smoking for several more minutes.

  Finally, the silence was broken when Holmes remarked, “Gentlemen, well done. However, there are still so many questions left unanswered. We have come a long way in our
investigation, but there is still much to discover and it will be increasingly more difficult to proceed as we have done in the past. It has become readily apparent that our foes are watching our every move.”

  “Yes, Mr. Holmes,” Wiggins agreed. “Ever since our fiasco at the pub and our visit to the Druid encampment, Bobo and I have seen many of the same characters shadowing our every move.”

  “I’d like to have a go with them, Mr. Holmes, if you thought it might help,” offered Mr. Roberts.

  Trying to conceal his smile, Holmes quickly responded, “No, No, Bobo. Now’s not the time to tip our hand. It’ll be better for us if they think we don’t know they’re being seen.”

  “Besides, you and Wiggins have all of the necessary skills to disappear if necessary,” Holmes suggested.

  Both gentlemen smiled proudly at the comment with Bobo concurring, “Yes, of course we do, Mr. Holmes. I get your meaning, sir...”

  “Tell me, Wiggins and Bobo, do you believe that it is an open-and-shut case against this Terra fellow, or have you other suspects in mind? I would like to hear what you have to say.”

  Wiggins started to respond to the question, when Holmes suddenly rose from his chair and shrieked, “Egad, what time is it?”

  Glancing at his timepiece he voiced, “Fool that I’ve become, quickly, we must get to Daddyhole. It’s the solstice, the day of the Druid gathering.”

  Too Late

  Our trip along Babbacombe Road to Daddyhole seemed to take forever and, to add to our mental discomfort, the carriage rocked and rumbled the entire way from our hotel to the clifftop overlooking the English Channel. It was almost 1:15 PM, and the ceremony had been scheduled to begin promptly at 12:03 PM, the beginning of the winter solstice.

  Holmes continued to chide himself for his loss of focus, and he spent the entire trip mumbling and shaking his head.