The MX Book of New Sherlock Holmes Stories Part III

by David Marcum

  “The breaking of good faith, Mrs. Warrender. In order for your scheme to work smoothly, the individual whose death you stage must, logically, agree to disappear completely, perhaps to another country. But Erasmus Crow disobeyed your instructions, and came dangerously close to undermining your entire operation. He had to be dealt with swiftly. When you came to Sir Boris Wyngarde’s party, injected Crow with the formula once again, which resulted in a second simulated death. Your son Ridley here removed the body on your instructions, and waited until the formula had worn off before shooting Crow and burying him in his own grave.”

  Thrusting his chin out in defiance, the Warrender boy asked: “Who is this ‘Erasmus Crow’ I’m supposed to have killed?”

  “He is a man with yellowish dust on his lapels, Mr. Warrender - dust which came from the gloves you’re now wearing, dust which matches exactly the colour of the London stock brick. And Lewisham brick-works is just next door, is it not? Should further doubt remain, the chemistry textbooks buried in the coffin contain numerous notations in a female hand. I have no doubt, Mrs. Warrender, that were we to obtain a specimen of your handwriting, it would be an exact match.”

  Lestrade reached into his pocket for a set of handcuffs. “You probably should have just dropped the body in the Thames. Hands out, Mr. Warrender.”

  Unexpectedly, the lady rose from her chair. She was not much taller standing than she had been sitting down. “You are correct on all points, save for one, Mr. Holmes. My boy did not shoot Crow - I did. No, not a word, Ridley! I am quite content to go to my fate, but if there’s a chance my son might escape the noose, I wish him to take it.”

  It was far from the perfect outcome, but the young fellow obeyed his parent and would not say another word, nor, despite Lestrade’s coaxing, would he provide us with a list of former clients. Holmes always suspected that both Warrenders were aware of the formula for simulated death, and that the son would eventually be released from prison for his lesser crimes, to a waiting clientèle of influential individuals in the criminal world, anxious to be avail themselves of his services. It might have been Mrs. Warrender’s idea of the perfect Christmas gift, but it seemed to me a gift laden with malice.

  The Inspector of Graves

  by Jim French

  This script has never been published in text form, and was initially performed as a radio drama on July 16, 2006. The broadcast was Episode No. 71 of The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, one of the recurring series featured on the nationally syndicated Imagination Theatre. Founded by Jim French, the company has currently produced over 1,000 multi-series episodes, including 117 (as of this writing) original Sherlock Holmes pastiches.

  In addition, Imagination Theatre is in the process of recording the entire Holmes Canon, featured as The Classic Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, and when completed, this will be the only version with all episodes to have been written by the same writer, Matthew J. Elliott, and with the same two actors, John Patrick Lowrie and Lawrence Albert, portraying Holmes and Watson, respectively.

  This script is protected by copyright. For permission to reproduce it in any way or to perform it in any medium, please apply to www.jimfrenchproductions.com

  The Cast

  SHERLOCK HOLMES - John Patrick Lowrie

  DR. WATSON - Lawrence Albert

  B.W. HOLCAMP - Cynthia Lauren Tewes: Barbara Woolsey Holcamp, unmarried, mid-20’s, middle class accent, bright, spunky, well-educated, former teacher, well-off but not wealthy

  MRS. LUCY PACKER - Pam Nolte: Brusque, coarse sister of the mother of Frank Ellis, the man Barbara Holcamp loved. She’s about 60

  MRS. ELLIS - Ellen McLain: The late Frank Ellis’s mother. Lived several years in Australia, and could have picked up that accent, but she’s a middle-class British widow, slightly younger than her sister

  CABBIE - Dennis Bateman: An old Cockney

  The Inspector of Graves

  MUSIC - OPENING, DANSE MACABRE AND UNDER

  WATSON: I am Doctor John H. Watson. Having now lived one year beyond the half-century mark, and having been assistant and biographer to Sherlock Holmes for nearly half of that time, it was not surprising that we would, on occasion, find ourselves thinking along the same lines. Although I no longer lived in our Baker Street rooms, our years of investigating cases together had created a bond much like that often found between brothers. So on the first day of March, 1903, although we hadn’t spoken since January, I strongly felt that he would be contacting me that day, and sure enough, just before noon my telephone rang, and it was Holmes.

  MUSIC - OUT

  HOLMES: (FILTER) Have you read this morning’s Daily Chronicle?

  WATSON: (PAUSE) Holmes? I was just thinking about you! How are you?

  HOLMES: It’s a small article, third page. “Grave Robbing in Lambeth. Mystery corpse found in the wrong coffin in Loburn Abbey Cemetery, Kennington.”

  WATSON: I don’t think I read that.

  HOLMES: Aren’t many of your comrades from the war buried there?

  WATSON: So that’s the connection! All morning long, my thought have been on you, while you apparently were thinking of me! How remarkable!

  HOLMES: Not at all; someday it will be discovered that there is a substance in the atmosphere that connects the minds of congenial human beings in the same way that piano strings vibrate when the same notes are bowed on a violin. Sympathetic resonance, I believe it’s called.

  WATSON: But...

  HOLMES: I’ve received a telegram from someone who needs our help and is in a position to pay handsomely for it. I’ll need your medical knowledge, Watson.

  WATSON: But-

  HOLMES: And if you turn to the agony columns on the back page, you’ll see a bit more information on the same matter.

  WATSON: But how-

  HOLMES: I’ll tell you all I know of it on the way to Kennington. How soon can you be ready, with your surgeon’s bag and apron?

  WATSON: Er - my wife will want to know if I’ll be home for dinner.

  HOLMES: Ay, yes, my best to your bride. I’ll be round in twenty minutes. Dress warmly, it feels like snow.

  SOUND EFFECT - CLICK OVER WIRE

  WATSON: On the back page, among the personals, was this: “Anyone having information concerning the removal of the remains of the late Dr. Frank Ellis from his grave in Loburn Abbey will kindly contact B.W. Holcamp, 19 Bethune Road, Kennington, Lambeth. A reward is offered for accurate information. All confidences kept.” Not long after I read the notice, Holmes appeared at our door with a hansom waiting.

  SOUND EFFECT - FADE IN HANSOM CLATTERING DOWN STREET

  HOLMES: You’re looking fit, Watson. Put on a pound or two, I see. Your new bride must be a good cook.

  WATSON: She is. I’m a lucky man.

  HOLMES: Yes; and let’s hope wife number three will be luckier than your first two. Now; to the task at hand. The missing body is that of Frank Ellis, a physician. Due to his service with our forces during the Boer War, he was buried in the veterans’ section of Loburn Abbey Cemetery.

  WATSON: Why was his coffin dug up?

  HOLMES: Mr. Holcamp gave only a few details in his telegram, but the nature of the case intrigues me and calls for the professional services of my oldest and dearest friend.

  WATSON: That’s most generous of you, Holmes, but it doesn’t answer my question.

  HOLMES: Speculation is no substitute for investigation, Watson, you know that. Now, if I remember London’s geography correctly, we should be across the river and in Lambeth within half an hour.

  SOUND EFFECT - HANSOM DOWN SLIGHTLY, HORSE STOPS AT *

  WATSON: From Holmes’s remarks and the personal ad in the paper, I somehow expected Mr. Holcamp would be living in a finer neighbourhood, but when we arrived * in Bethune Road we saw only a line of gray, run-down row houses, of the
sort ordinary wage-earners live in.

  SOUND EFFECT - IN DISTANCE, YOUNG CHILDREN PLAYING

  HOLMES: [EXTERIOR] (EXERTION AS HE STEPS DOWN) I don’t imagine cabbies drive out here very much. Would a guinea keep you waiting to take us back to Baker Street?

  CABBIE: [EXTERIOR] (OFF) Two guineas would, sir.

  HOLMES: Done. Here you are.

  CABBIE: (OFF) Thanks, guv’nor. I’ll be right ‘ere.

  SOUND EFFECT - TWO MEN WALKING ON PAVEMENT

  WATSON: [EXTERIOR] Well? Is this what you expected?

  HOLMES: Reserve your judgement until all the facts are in.

  SOUND EFFECT - STEPS STOP

  SOUND EFFECT - KNOCK ON DOOR

  SOUND EFFECT - PAUSE, THEN DOOR OPENS

  HOLCAMP: [EXTERIOR] Yes?

  HOLMES: We’re looking for the residence of Mr. B.W. Holcamp.

  HOLCAMP: I am B.W. Holcamp. And you’d be Sherlock Holmes!

  HOLMES: Correct.

  HOLCAMP: And Doctor Watson?

  WATSON: I am.

  HOLCAMP: Come right in, please!

  SOUND EFFECT - THEY WALK INSIDE, DOOR CLOSES (CHILDREN OUT)

  HOLCAMP: You expected me to be a man, no doubt.

  HOLMES: Indeed.

  HOLCAMP: I didn’t intend to deceive you; the B.W. in my name stands for Barbara Woolsey. Barbara Woolsey Holcamp.

  WATSON: Don’t think a thing of it, Miss Holcamp; or is it Mrs. Holcamp?

  HOLCAMP: It’s Miss.

  HOLMES: So perhaps you’ll begin at the beginning and leave out no detail of your problem, however minor.

  HOLCAMP: Of course. But first, may I offer you tea? The kettle’s just off the hob.

  HOLMES: Not for me, thank you.

  WATSON: Yes, I could use a cup.

  HOLCAMP: Very good. Mind you, it’ll be very hot.

  SOUND EFFECT - TEA BEING POURED AND SERVED UNDER:

  HOLCAMP: Here you are, Doctor. Lemon or sugar?

  WATSON: Neither, thanks.

  HOLCAMP: (AS SHE SITS) Now, to begin at the beginning. I lost both of my parents in a disaster at sea just before the turn of the century. Eighteen ninety-nine, December to be exact. I had no other family, and for a time, I didn’t know whom to turn to. I held a teaching position in Dagney, third form, and if it had not been for the kindness of those dear children, I think I would have chosen to end it all, out of loneliness and grief.

  WATSON: (MURMURS) My dear lady!

  HOLCAMP: But as Providence would have it, there came upon the scene a remarkable man, a doctor like yourself, Doctor Watson, and I became his regular patient. His name was Frank Ellis. Doctor Ellis was unlike any man I had ever known. He recognized that I needed someone to guide me, someone to trust and rely on, and he became that person in my life. I was only twenty at the time of my parents’ death, and Doctor Ellis became like a counsellor, a father, and a good friend to me. He was like a father, as I say, but in many respects you might say he was like a mother to me; tender and gentle, understanding of a girl’s emotional needs.

  HOLMES: (DRILY) Quite remarkable. Do go on.

  HOLCAMP: I’m afraid that from this point on, my story is darker and more tragic. As our relationships grew, it became more personal. You see, I had fallen in love with him, and I believed that Frank - Doctor Ellis - felt the same for me. The first time I sought to speak to him about it, he changed the subject. I realized he was struggling to... maintain a professional relationship with me, when part of him longed to be much closer.

  HOLMES: And was there intimate physical contact between you?

  HOLCAMP: No. Not so much as a kiss. And yet, there were moments when our hands might touch, accidentally, and his cheeks would colour and he seemed about to say something... and then think better of it. And so I finally determined to let him know that I understood the change in our relationship, and would welcome his feelings for me... the he need have no fear in declaring his love for me, for I felt the same for him.

  WATSON: That must have taken courage.

  HOLCAMP: Oh, Doctor, you have no idea! On the next evening when he called on me with some cough syrup he prescribed, I took his hands in mine, sat down beside him - here on this divan - and told him of my love for him.

  WATSON: And what was his reply?

  HOLCAMP: He looked stricken! He rose, trembling, and stammered like a schoolboy, telling me I’d misunderstood his concern for me as affection. He explained that he took care of his widowed mother in her home, and that she was his first responsibility for as long as she lived. He said he wanted to be my friend and physician, but anything beyond that was impossible. That was the last time I saw him. And so, barely a year after I lost both of my parents, once more I was utterly alone and without hope!

  HOLMES: And what happened to Doctor Ellis?

  HOLCAMP: Within a few weeks, Doctor Ellis became seriously ill, and the next thing I knew, he passed away!

  WATSON: Miss Holcamp, speaking as a physician myself, let me suggest that at the time you confessed your love to him, the symptoms of a fatal illness might well have already appeared, which would certainly explain why he told you that marriage would be impossible.

  HOLMES: At any rate, we regret your loss. And now, to the matter at hand: you say that the body of Doctor Ellis is not in its grave?

  HOLCAMP: That’s right.

  HOLMES: How do you come to know that?

  HOLCAMP: I paid to have the grave opened and his body exhumed.

  HOLMES: Why would you want to do that?

  HOLCAMP: Is it absolutely necessary for you to know?

  HOLMES: Is there a reason why we should not know?

  HOLCAMP: Very well. After that night, I was wracked with misery; first there was humiliation, then anger, then infinite sadness. I knew that I would never see him again, but I wanted him to have something of mine, something that was precious to me, that would always be a connection between us.

  WATSON: A keepsake.

  HOLCAMP: Exactly. I had a ring, a silver ring mounted with four large diamonds. It had been my mother’s. When her estate was settled, the stones alone were valued at more than a thousand pounds! I had it engraved, “Dear love, Barbara”. And I sent it to him with a note that said, “Wear it or return it, but never give it away. If you will wear it, send me a blossom from a plum tree.”

  WATSON: And - did he?

  HOLCAMP: See what is in this glass case on my mantel, Doctor.

  WATSON: It looks like a bough from a tree.

  HOLCAMP: Dead and dried out now, but when it was delivered to me, it held a fresh plum blossom! No note, just the blossom on its bough. But that told me that he loved me too, even though he could never say it. I had it mounted as a keepsake. It is precious to me... because it came from him.

  HOLMES: A most poignant story, Miss Holcamp, but you haven’t yet explained why you wanted his body exhumed.

  HOLCAMP: (PAUSE) To prove that the ring had been stolen and he had been murdered!

  MUSIC - SHORT STING

  HOLMES: And why, Miss Holcamp, do you think Doctor Ellis was murdered?

  HOLCAMP: Several months earlier, he called on me and asked if I had been “bothered” as he put it by a man he called Toby. “Bothered in what way?” I asked him, and he said that the man was a crook who specialized in fraud and blackmail. When I asked him how he came to know such a person, Doctor Ellis said he had treated him as a patient some time ago. He said this “Toby” person was spreading lies about him. I asked him if he had reported “Toby” to the police, and he said the police knew him well. He’d been in prison many times.

  HOLMES: And you think “Toby” murdered Doctor Ellis and stole the ring?

  HOLCAMP: I did think that, yes; but the police ruled out murder. He died at home, with his mo
ther by his side. She told them he’d been sick for a long time; she said he died from some disease he contracted in Australia, the same disease that killed his father.

  HOLMES: You learned that from the police or from Mrs. Ellis?

  HOLCAMP: The police. I’ve never spoken with Mrs. Ellis.

  HOLMES: Not even at the funeral? I assume you both were there.

  HOLCAMP: There were only five or six mourners. I wasn’t certain which one was Mrs. Ellis, so I remained very much in the background and spoke to no one.

  WATSON: Didn’t Mrs. Ellis have to give her permission for her son’s body to be exhumed?

  HOLCAMP: She was too ill, and with no other living relatives, I was able to secure that authority from the Inspector himself.

  HOLMES: Which Inspector, Miss Holcamp?

  HOLCAMP: The Inspector of Graves.

  HOLMES: I see. Watson, while we still have the sun, I think we would do well to visit the cemetery ourselves. Miss Holcamp, would you act as our guide?

  HOLCAMP: Gladly, Mr. Holmes. I’ll get my cloak. (MOVING OFF) I’ll only be a moment...

  WATSON: (SOTTO) In all my years of practice I never heard of an “Inspector of Graves.” Is there such a thing?

  HOLMES: (SOTTO) If there is, it would be in the Revised Laws of 1888. I have them all in one of my files; we shall investigate when we get home.

  MUSIC - UNDERSCORE

  WATSON: The cabbie drove us to the cemetery located on the grounds of Loburn Abbey, a crumbling old landmark abandoned by the church some time ago. The best-maintained part of the burial grounds was the War Veteran’s Memorial Cemetery, and that was where Miss Holcamp led us. On a rise of ground, amid row upon row of crosses and headstones, we came to a raw plot of newly turned earth. We were quite alone.

  MUSIC - OUT

  SOUND EFFECT - GENTLE WIND IN BACKGROUND

  HOLCAMP: [EXTERIOR] This is where he was buried, in the Veterans’ section. Frank served in the medical corps during the Boer War.

  HOLMES: [EXTERIOR] Who besides you witnessed the exhumation?

  HOLCAMP: The two workmen who opened the grave, and a constable who took one glance inside the coffin and walked away. Then came the moment I most dreaded. I had to look into the coffin.