Sherlock Holmes and The Scarlet Thread of Murder

by Luke Benjamen Kuhns

  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 18
90

  “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.”

  “I ventured into the factory where I was stopped by a warden.

  “‘What are you doing sniffing around here?’ he yelled.

  “‘I am looking into the death of Mr. Daniels, your employer.’

  “The man froze stiff. ‘Dead, you say? What happened?’

  “‘Hanged himself,’ I returned. ‘It is most important that I have a look through his offices.’

  “‘Now sir, I can’t let you do that.’

  “‘I assure you, you can.’ I introduced myself to him, but he was not impressed.

  “‘I don’t care who you are, private detective or not. This here is my factory and I can’t let people go sniffing around.’

  “‘Every man has his price.’

  “He paused a moment and I handed what would have been to him a considerable amount of money. His eyes lit up, and I knew I had him. ‘What can you tell of your employer Mr. Daniels?’

  “He slipped the money into his dirty charcoal jacket and said, ‘He was a decent bloke, as far as I could tell. He was always careful about who he put his trust in, and if you ever broke it you’d be gone.’

  “‘What do you mean by ‘be gone’?’

  “‘Well, if you ever got on his bad side or were just inept he’d cut you loose. Send you packing. That sort of thing.’

  “‘When did you see him last?’

  “‘I haven’t seen him in some months. He’s only telegrammed. After Thomas was killed in the explosion at Whitechapel Station, he stopped coming into the factory.’

  “‘How long have you held this position?’

  “‘Oh, only a few months.’

  “‘Who was in the role before you?’

  “‘A man named Phillias Jackson. Of course he wasn’t here very long.’

  “‘Why was that?’

  “‘Not quite sure. I remember him coming in with Mr. Daniels and Mr. Thomas and being shown around, then about two weeks later he was made Warden and we were informed of some new business that we’d be doing.’

  “‘What kind of business?’

  “‘Thomas opened up some trade with India and Afghanistan.’

  “‘What kind of trade?’

  “‘Nothing important. Some of it was animals, some was fabrics, spices. That sort.’

  “‘Back on point, then. Why did Mr. Jackson step down from being Warden?’

  “‘Well, not sure. I remember hearing them, Thomas and Daniels, that is, arguing about Jackson. It seemed like Thomas didn’t trust him all that much. Think he wanted too much money for his job. Least that’s the way Daniels put it to me when he gave me the job. See, Jackson was let go but no one really knew why, and all I was told that financially he didn’t agree with them.’

  “‘And how long did Jackson work here?’

  “‘Probably six months or so.’

  “‘You’ve been quite helpful. Now, if you can give me access to the offices, I shouldn’t be long.’

  “He quickly showed me to them. I asked for some privacy, which he reluctantly gave. I went through papers and shipment logs. There was nothing much of note. In the office was a safe. I enquired with the warden as to the whereabouts of the key. He said only Daniels had it. I had no time to travel back to Daniels’ and find it, so I managed to pick the lock. Inside, I came across some very telling things. A contract drafted by Phillias Jackson that made him an equal partner in the company. Deep lines of ink were scratched through it. When the Warden thought money was the issue, he was wrong. It wasn’t Jackson’s wage at the factory, it was the fact he wanted to be a partner.” Holmes reached into his jacket pocket. “I also found these, letters between Goodtree and Daniels.

  David,

  We must remove Jackson.

  Goodtree

  Thomas,

  I agree, but he’s put us in a peculiar situation. This will take a lot of legal action, and probably a hefty sum of money to get rid of him.

  Daniels.

  David,

  Whatever the cost, he needs to be removed from our employ and our lives. We need to rid ourselves of his cunning.

  Goodtree.

  Thomas,

  Meet with me tomorrow, at the club. We can discuss things there.

  Daniels.

  Thomas,

  It’s been done. At what cost, I cannot say. But he has been removed. We can only hope he leaves us in peace.

  Daniels.

  “These men sounded suspicious of Jackson, as if he had something on them.” Holmes looked at me inquisitively but uttered no response as he trailed off into his thoughts.

  “So you think Phillias is behind the poisoning?” I asked.

  “During my search there were unmarked shipments labelled private. Some of the shipments were from Burkum and Lynn.”

  “The weapons manufacturer?”

  “The very one. It was mostly explosive powder, but it vanished after it arrived at the factory. The other shipments were of a vegetated nature from Afghanistan. This is where we were lucky - someone had scribbled down ‘flowers’. It seems no harm to speculate that these flowers were the fire flowers. However, where these shipments went after arriving is a mystery.”

  “How does this help us?” I asked.

  “It’s quite obvious,” said Holmes with a grin. “All of these shipments stopped once Jackson was fired. Daniels cancelled all shipments post-Jackson.”

  “So, Jackson used the trade with Afghanistan to bring in the poisonous flowers while he also acquired powder from Burkum and Lynn. He surely is responsible for poisoning Daniels!” I declared.

  “Unfortunately, he’s dead.”

  “Dead!” I cried.

  “I went to see Inspector Lestrade. I found him sitting in his office going over paperwork. I asked him if they questioned Jackson, or anyone in Daniels’ and Thomas’ employee after Thomas’ death.

  “‘Why would we do that?’ Lestrade asked me. My irritation was no secret. ‘Don’t hang your head like a disappointed parent, Holmes!’ he snapped.

  “‘It is not your fault,” I comforted the Inspector. “It is reasons like these the Yard comes to me for aid. I have reason to believe he is behind the murder of Daniels and Thomas.’

  “‘We’ve no proof that Daniels was murdered,” Lestrade stammered. “He clearly hanged himself, and that Thomas fellow was just on the wrong train at the wrong time. The explosion was caused by a Jewish anarchist. D.I. Reid has been on the case, I’m sure he’ll hunt them down.’

  “‘Don’t you see, Lestrade? It’s all there in the shipments.’ I told him of the fire flower and missing powder shipments. ‘Get me a report; the powder from the explosion will be from Burkum and Lynn.’

  “‘You’ll have to see Reid about that, Mr. Holmes. I know he’s got a man working on the explosion, and they’ve come up with nothing. You’re just offering a stab in the dark here. Now, I’m knee deep with this Daniels case. I’ll follow up with our surgeon, see if he thinks Daniels was poisone
d. But I’m not sure Jackson is your man.’

  “‘Why is this?’

  ‘His body washed up near the Tower of London this morning. His face was severely mutilated, but the mole confirmed it was him, on the right side of his face.’

  “‘Where did he live?’

  Lestrade gave me the address and I came to collect you before going out there.”

  “Could there be a fourth man?” I asked.

  “I believe there may be. Daniels, it seems, isn’t a wholly honest man.”

  “What else do you know, Holmes?”

  He did not respond to my question, and remained quiet for the rest of our journey to Davenport House.

  Chapter 12

  Doctor Watson

  The Detective and the Investigator

  Autumn 1890

  Holmes and I stepped into the small shed where the landlord had informed us another group of detectives were investigating. Holmes and I were both curious as to who it was that was following a similar trail to us and why. We opened the door to see two men, both fairly tall, one thin, the other slightly older round.

  “Who are you?” the thin man pressed.

  “My name is Sherlock Holmes and this is my friend and colleague Doctor Watson.” Holmes turned and smiled at the round man. “Mr. Hewitt, I should thank you for looking after things while I was in America some time ago.”

  “It was my pleasure,” said Hewitt, walking over and shaking Holmes’s hand. “But you really must explain what you are doing here. Did Mrs. Goodtree come and see you as well?”

  “Our role in this narrative began when a Mr. David Daniels came to see me about a strange haunting by the ‘Goblin Man’,” said Holmes.

  “I thought that goblin fiend had left the city?” Hewitt asked.

  “It seems he did not - or someone was posing as the Goblin.” Holmes relayed our entire investigation. Holmes and Hewitt became deeply invested in discussing the poisonous flower used on Daniels. Hewitt’s interest was piqued by Holmes’s accusation of Jackson, the shipped powder and the Whitechapel explosion. Both Hewitt and his associate, Brett, were taken aback when Holmes informed them of the baffling news that Mr. Jackson was dead.