The Deadly Curse

by Tony Evans

  Buford stared down at our cards. ‘Ahem – Professor Van Helsing – Mr Harker. I usually see no one without an appointment, but in this case’ – he made a great play of consulting a slim gold pocket watch of the best quality – ‘I can allocate you five minutes of my time. Now, how may I help you?’

  Van Helsing glanced towards me and, encouraged by his nod, I began to speak.

  ‘You may have heard of the tragic demise of Mr Theodore Flinzer,’ I said. ‘He had his banking account here, and was violently killed at the beginning of this week, on Monday evening. It is possible that his wife has already contacted you.’

  The manager looked a little disconcerted. ‘Dear me!’ he exclaimed in a show of feeling. ‘How unfortunate. I must tell you that I was not aware of the matter. However, that is not unusual since my chief clerk, Higgins, would normally deal with such things. My own involvement in the bank is with the management of our large investments, negotiations of loans to national business concerns, and such like. I can summon Higgins if you wish – but perhaps first you could enlighten me as to your interest in the late gentleman.’

  As succinctly as possible I informed Buford that Flinzer had almost certainly been murdered and that it was of vital importance that any recent sales that he had made could be identified. I explained that due to our current lack of a record held by Flinzer we hoped that Havelocks Bank could examine his account to see if cheques for any large sums had been received in recent weeks.

  Buford dismissed my enquiry with barely disguised distain. ‘Mr Harker, that is entirely out of the question. We could only accede to such a request if it came from the courts or a senior police officer: and even then I would require a warrant. Our duty of confidentiality to our clients does not cease when they are dead.’

  Van Helsing interrupted. ‘Our difficulty, Mr Buford, is that time may be of the essence. Detective Inspector Delland of Scotland Yard is aware of our interest in this case, and I am sure that he would be happy to obtain the necessary warrant, but that might take two days or more and any delay could well be fatal. Come sir, you have our cards: can you not see your way to relaxing your rules on this occasion?’

  Buford shook his head. ‘With respect sir, anyone who can lay his hands on a guinea can have cards printed – including cards of evidently superior manufacture. No, you must return with the warrant, or not at all.’

  At this Barnabus Buford stood up, signalling the end of our interview. However, before he could usher us to the door Van Helsing rose quickly and strode towards him. The Professor has a substantial physique, and this combined with his evident determination caused Buford to step back.

  ‘If confirmation of our bona fides is the matter at issue, that is easily resolved,’ Van Helsing said. ‘Let me see – we cannot be more than a mile or so from Eaton Square. I take it that you are cognisant of the position of Sir Anthony Neville-Street?’

  I could see Buford blink in surprise at Van Helsing’s mention of the Home Secretary. Unlike the bank manager, I was aware that the Professor was on familiar terms with some of the most eminent personages in the land, although in normal circumstances he would never boast of it.

  ‘Sir Anthony’s habits are notoriously regular,’ Van Helsing said. ‘At this hour on a Friday he is invariably at home. I suggest that the two of us take a hansom to Belgravia, where I am sure he will vouch for me in person. Do you think his character reference would suffice? He could speak to the Bank Directors if necessary.’

  Buford sat down heavily in his chair, a slight sheen of perspiration visible on his pale forehead. ‘Erm – that will not be necessary. I am sure that I can accommodate the request of a friend of the Right Honourable gentleman. Now, what exactly is it that you require to know? I will send for Higgins immediately.’

  *

  In a very short time Van Helsing and I had obtained the information we had requested, although it did little to set our minds at rest. Havelocks Bank – whatever the shortcomings of its manager – kept most meticulous records of its customers’ transactions, and three entries in the account of the late Mr Flinzer were obviously relevant to our search. The first was a cheque from the financial director of the Clarendon Institute of Archaeology for six hundred pounds, dated October 10th: clearly the sum that Flinzer had realised from the sale of the coffin of the Pharaoh Karnos II. The second was a payment of one hundred and thirty pounds from Dr Harold Levin, Curator, Edinburgh Museum of Ethnography, dated November 1st. No doubt this was the cheque that Dr Levin had sent for his purchase of the khopesh – the item that had never reached him, or had disappeared after its arrival. However, what struck the three of us most forcefully was the record of a cheque recently received from a Dr M Limonov for eighty pounds.

  ‘Why – the cheque was dated November 8th, 1887!’ I exclaimed. ‘That’s last Monday – the day before Flinzer was killed. Is it possible that he has disposed of a further item?’

  Van Helsing picked up the leather-bound ledger. ‘Limonov...Limonov...’ he mused. ‘I am sure that name is familiar. Yes, of course! It must surely be Dr Mikhail Limonov, the well-known collector of antiquities. He has a villa in St John’s Wood, not half a mile from my own house. I attended a soirée there last summer. We must go there immediately.’

  As we hurried out of Barnabus Buford’s office, I turned to speak with him and his chief clerk.

  ‘Tell me, was Mr Theodore Flinzer experiencing any financial difficulties? The balance of his account appears very low for someone of his standing.’

  Higgins looked nervously at his superior, who nodded. ‘There were no difficulties as such, Mr Harker: Mr Flinzer made a healthy income from his art dealings. However, over the last twelve months he has regularly made large cash withdrawals. I once took the liberty of asking if they were being used for investments, and he told me – rather sharply – that it was a family matter he would prefer not to discuss.’

  *

  As our route to Dr Limonov took us close to Van Helsing’s house, we asked the cab driver to pause there. Mina had already returned from her mysterious expedition – she appeared determined to keep the details secret from us – and joined us for the rest of our journey. After we had told her what we had discovered at Flinzer’s bank, Mina turned to Van Helsing and I with a puzzled expression.

  ‘There’s one thing I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘Although we have not yet had the benefit of Miss Wilton’s translation, it seems highly probable that the canopic jars that were discovered in Signor Peretti’s house were purchased from Theodore Flinzer. And yet Flinzer’s bank account showed no record of any payment received from that gentleman.’

  ‘Remember that Signor Peretti is – or rather was – a native of Sicily,’ Van Helsing said. ‘The people of that region have an aversion to banks and cheques, preferring the security of cash. I dare say Flinzer – if indeed the jars were his – was paid in gold. But I see we are rapidly approaching Belmont Square. I must warn you that Limonov has something of a reputation for domestic eccentricity. We may find him at a late breakfast, or be informed that he has just retired to bed.’

  ‘Then he is evidently a bachelor,’ Mina said with a smile. ‘Such irregularities would hardly be tolerated in a married man.’

  *

  Limonov’s maid led us not to her master, but the housekeeper, who introduced herself as Mrs Garnett, and took us into the drawing room.

  ‘I believe it’s Professor Van Helsing?’ she asked our friend. Upon receiving confirmation the housekeeper addressed herself to the Professor.

  ‘To tell the honest truth I’m glad you’ve called today, sir. The plain fact is I’m rather worried about Dr Limonov. I haven’t set eyes on him for almost three days – the last time I saw him was Tuesday, when I took a light supper up to him on a tray, about nine o’clock that evening. As you know the doctor doesn’t keep what you might call regular hours, but then he has to eat, doesn’t he? And if he were to go away, he’d always tell me. Then there’s another thing. You can see his bed
room from the back of the house, and the curtains haven’t been open since Tuesday night. Of course I’ve tried knocking on his bedroom door, but it’s locked and there’s no reply.’

  ‘Tell me Mrs Garnett,’ I said, casting a worried glance towards my wife and Van Helsing, ‘do you recall your master receiving any parcels before his disappearance?’

  ‘Why yes sir. On Tuesday morning a package was sent here addressed to the doctor; it was about the size of a cigar box. He was out all day, and to be honest I’d forgot all about it until he got home that night and I took up his tray. So I took the parcel up to his room along with his supper. When he saw it he was so pleased he didn’t ask why I’d not given it to him the moment he’d got home. “Splendid, Mrs Garnett, splendid!” he’d said and fair snatched it from me.’

  ‘Very well,’ I said, with my mind full of foreboding. ‘If Professor Van Helsing and my wife are in agreement, I propose we break down your master’s bedroom door. Of course, if it turns out to be unnecessary, I will reimburse the cost of repair. Mrs Garnett, if you could show us to his room and then wait for us downstairs, I would be grateful.’

  The frightened housekeeper did as I asked and the combined weight of Van Helsing and I soon forced open the lightly constructed door. As the two of us staggered into the room Mina stepped lightly between us and advanced to the bed.

  On it laid a grotesquely swollen corpse: that of a man in his late fifties, formally dressed in a dark suit and waistcoat, with his jacket removed. His bloated stomach and outstretched limbs were irresistibly reminiscent of Mr Tenniel’s illustrations of Tweedledum and Tweedledee, although there was little humour in the sight before us. The livid colouration of the face and the rigidity of the features made Van Helsing’s search for signs of life pointless.

  The Professor lifted up one of the dead man’s arms. ‘There’s a spot of blood here,’ he said, rolling up the sleeve of the shirt. ‘It’s Limonov all right, I recognise the poor man. Now, what’s this?’

  Mina and I pored over Van Helsing’s shoulder. There, on the inner forearm of the corpse, we could see two bright red puncture wounds, set about a quarter of an inch apart.

  Mina jumped backwards with a cry. ‘My G-d! Surely it cannot be! I thought we were rid of him forever.’

  I placed my arm around her shoulders. ‘Think, Mina. Those marks are far smaller than the wounds that were inflicted by Count Dracula.’

  She breathed deeply. ‘You are right, Jonathan. But just for a moment....’

  Van Helsing stood up from his examination of the body.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s quite clear what has happened. Jonathan is quite right – this is not the work of a vampire, or indeed of any warm-blooded creature. Dr Limonov has been killed by the venom of a particularly poisonous snake.’

  I swiftly looked about the room. ‘Then should we not find the creature before it strikes again?’ I said. ‘Mina, perhaps you had better wait downstairs.’

  ‘I think not,’ she said with a smile. ‘Three are better placed to search than two. Besides, if the reptile were to follow me and kill Mrs Garnett, I would never forgive myself.’

  With that we armed ourselves – somewhat inadequately – with a variety of objects from Limonov’s bedroom, and gingerly commenced our search. As I peered beneath the wardrobe I heard Van Helsing’s sharp intake of breath behind me and turned round to see him lifting one of the pillows on the bed. He held a clothes brush in his right hand poised to strike, but lowered it slowly to his side.

  Mina and I gazed at what his search had revealed. Resting on the sheet where the pillow had been was a broad and heavy bracelet of bright gold, in the shape of a flattened snake and of a size evidently designed to fit round a woman’s upper arm. One end terminated in a pointed tail and the other in the reptile’s head. The design appeared to be Ancient Egyptian, although neither Van Helsing, Mina, nor I were expert enough to identify it with certainty.

  The Professor shook his head. ‘What, I wonder, will Detective Inspector Delland make of this? Mina, I suggest that you go in search of a constable, and send him to bring Delland here. Please ask Mrs Garnett to remain downstairs and to ensure the servants are kept out of this room. Meanwhile, Jonathan and I will continue to look for the snake – although if my reading of this latest tragedy is correct, I fear our search will prove fruitless.’

  Chapter 7

  Less than twenty minutes after Mina had given her instructions to a constable and rejoined us in Limonov’s house, Inspector Delland came trotting up the stairs and joined us in the bedroom, where we had left the swollen corpse undisturbed, the golden armlet placed by its side. He was closely followed by an officer whom I recognised: Sergeant Drew. Instead of expressing dismay at yet another scene of inexplicable murder the Inspector appeared positively buoyant.

  ‘Ah!’ Delland cried, quickly taking in the bizarre scene in front of him. ‘This is all of a piece – the jigsaw’s coming together nicely. I’ve sent for the police doctor. You’re a medical man, Van Helsing. What do you think? A poisoning? And that bracelet’s another Egyptian relic, I’ll be bound.’

  Van Helsing pointed at Limonov’s arm, where we had left the sleeve rolled up. ‘I’m no expert, but I believe that to be a snake bite – and the cause of death.’

  Delland looked unconvinced. ‘I take it you’ve not found a snake in the room?’

  ‘Correct,’ I said. ‘Unless you count this one.’

  I picked up the armlet and passed it to Delland, pointing to the snake’s head. To my surprise the inspector laughed loudly.

  ‘Better still!’ he exclaimed. ‘Our murderer has a sense of humour, if nothing else.’

  Van Helsing smiled at the officer. ‘Detective Inspector, it seems to me you have the advantage of Mr Harker and I. You have clearly discovered the secret behind this case, whereas Jonathan and I are still very much confused. While we are waiting for the police doctor to arrive, would it be possible for you to share your theory with us? I can assure you we will treat it with confidence.’

  ‘I see no reason why not, gentlemen, as you and the two ladies have been so helpful. Let me explain. You’ll remember that when Mr Theodore Flinzer was done away with I said he was known by Scotland Yard to be less than honest in his art dealings, and that I suspected he’d fallen out with some criminal acquaintances – and suffered the consequences. Well, the subsequent murder of Signor Fosco Peretti, and now this latest crime’ – he pointed to the grotesque corpse on the bed – ‘have not altered my opinion. But before I say any more, I’d like to hear what you know about the unfortunate gentleman.’

  After Van Helsing had told the inspector all he knew about Dr Limonov, the three of us withdrew to the drawing room, leaving Sergeant Drew to guard the body until the doctor arrived.

  Inspector Delland settled comfortably in a well-upholstered armchair. ‘This is how I see it. The grotesque brutality of Flinzer’s murder suggested to me a distinct possibility that a foreigner was involved. The English criminal is a straightforward enough fellow in his own way, and in the main predictable. The fact that a vicious decapitation had occurred suggested the hot blood of a Southern European; or the cold cruelty of an Asiatic; or perhaps the savagery of an African.’

  I smiled inwardly at this exhibition of the inspector’s prejudices. After a short pause Delland continued.

  ‘However, at first my enquiries came to nothing. I discovered from one of my informants that Flinzer had disposed of a stolen painting in early October, but there did not appear to be any disagreement over the transaction. Then came the Peretti murder. I soon discovered from the Chief of Police in Naples that far from being a harmless connoisseur, Signor Peretti was known to be an associate of the Mantello Rosso.’

  Van Helsing interjected. ‘An organisation even more deadly than the Mafiosi, albeit less well known.’

  Delland nodded. ‘You’re well informed, Professor. It seems that Peretti had left Sicily in 1893 because his life was in danger. Now, although I’ve found nothing
yet to link him with any wrongdoing since he moved to London, I have discovered how he obtained the two Egyptian jars. Peretti’s valet, Babcock – a very respectable servant who was previously in the employ of Lord Drumgannon for over fifteen years – happened to be in the garden at about ten o’clock on the evening of Wednesday November 10th, the night before the discovery of Peretti’s disembowelled corpse by the parlourmaid on Thursday morning. Babcock had been looking for the housekeeper’s cat, which had not been seen all day. After locating the creature fast asleep in the stables, Babcock was on his way back to the house when he saw his master in conversation with a young man. There was a three-quarter moon that night, and the valet got a good look at him. He said he was short and slim, had dark hair, was clean shaven, and seemed to be no more than sixteen or seventeen years old: a good-looking youth, Babcock said. He wore a heavy woollen coat and a soft felt hat. After they’d finished speaking, the youngster handed over two large parcels wrapped in brown paper, each about twice the size of a shoebox. In return Peretti passed him a small canvas bag, and Babcock swears that as he did so he heard the chink of metal.’

  ‘Presumably the parcels contained the canopic jars,’ I said, ‘and the mysterious young man had been paid in cash. It would seem from his age that he was an errand boy rather than the seller of the jars.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Delland said. ‘Now, bear in mind the violence of Flinzer’s murder. Such a way of dispatching one’s enemies is typical of the Mantello Rosso. The idea is not just to dispose of an opponent, but to do it in such a way as to create such terror that none will dare to oppose the perpetrators. I believe that Peretti – or an associate – killed Flinzer.’