Person or Persons Unknown (20 page)

“Go ahead,” said the constable to the unlucky prisoner. “Tell Sir John who you are and what you done.”

“My name,” said he. attempting to recover what little he could of his lost dignity, “is Albert Palgrave, and I am a man of property — this property, in fact. I own the building, the entire court, for that matter.”

He spoke perhaps a bit too loud, for in his effort to impress Sir John he had been heard by all those assembled round the courtyard. His opening remarks were met by catcalls, whistles, and hoots.

“If that be so,” said Sir John, “you are not popular with your tenants.”

“What landlord is? These riff-raff expect to live here for naught. It is a constant effort to collect from them the rents to which I am entitled. If truth be known, half those hanging about and staring at us now are behind in their rents.”

“Get on with your story, man, and be swift.”

“Yes, sir. Well… I was on just such an errand, collecting back rents, when I came to that door — you see? behind me there? — oh, I’m sorry, you can’t — ”

”Get on with it!” Sir John did not seem merely exasperated. He was plainly angry.

“Oh… well, indeed. So I went to that door there, a Mistress Tribble — behind seven shillings on her rent, she was, and by God, I would have it, or have her out of there. I knocked on her door, and there was no answer — but I suspected her of shamming, and so I peeked through the window, which was so dirty I could get no clear picture. I could see, however, that she was there on the bed, so I let myself into the room. Naturally, as landlord, I had the key. I took one look — I daresay she is a rather horrible sight — and raised the cry of murder, which perhaps I should not have done. Out they came — the whole court, echoing the cry. I thought it wise to lock the door, lest they invade it as a mob. Yet they wanted in. They wanted to see. People are quite naturally curious about such spectacles, but I lectured them to return to their domiciles, until one fellow whom I recognized as Mistress Tribble’s, uh … factor said he would pay a shilling to be let in. It occurred to me that that would be one shilling less what she owed me. Others said they would pay the same. Now, as owner of the premises I had every right to allow in whom I liked. If they wished to pay for the privilege, I had every right to take their money. But I could not get that first fellow out of there. He simply — ”

”Silence!” shouted Sir John. “I have heard enough.”

“Your fellow arrested me,” persisted the landlord. “I have the right of property! When I told him that, he clamped me in hand-irons, would not tell me the charge, simply trussed me. There was no reasoning with him.”

“Sir,” said Sir John, “had I been present, I would have ordered him to do precisely the same. Have no doubt. The charge will be made plain to you in my magistrate’s court.”

A great huzzah went up from the listening crowd.

“Mr. Fuller, you’ve made your point well. I’ve never known the like, neither. Now who have you to talk to me? I hope it is him whom the landlord Palgrave named as her factor.”

Mr. Fuller jerked another from the group of five, this one by the noose double-wrapped about his neck. He was young, only three or four years older than I. His face was twisted in a scowl with which he seemed to wish to express disdain. He had a bruise upon his face, and he, too, wore hand-irons.

“Not having the landlord’s command of language,” said Mr. Fuller, “I would call this fellow a pimp. That’s how he was named to me by those who live hereabouts. They said he beat the poor woman regular.”

“Course I beat her,” snarled the pimp. “She was my whore.”

“Speak when you’re spoken to,” said Mr. Fuller, and cuffed him roughly on the bruised cheek. Then said he: “You may tell Sir John your name.”

“Edward Tribble.”

“You were married to the woman?” asked Sir John, much in surprise.

“After a fashion, I s’pose. ‘Twas a Fleet marriage. I ain’t sure it was legal, but I let her use my name. We dorsed different places, howsomever.”

“A Fleet marriage? And what unlucky parson performed the ceremony?”

“No idea. I disremembers his name.”

“Tell Sir John what you were up to in there.”

“I was selling souvenirs of the occasion.”

Sir John was silent for a moment. Then he shook his head. “I… I do not understand.”

Then said Mr. Fuller, in the deepest and darkest of tones, “Sir, he was sellin’ her off piecemeal. You ain’t been in there yet, ain’t had her condition described to you, but she’s all cut up, and her inwards have been emptied out and scattered about the room. He was offerin’ her organs and such for sale to those who come in — and there was buyers — these other three among them. I know not how many more.”

What I saw then I had never seen before, nor would I ever afterwards. Sir John raised his walking stick, and in his blindness struck out at Edward Tribble. He thrashed away at him for a minute or more until, his anger exhausted, he gave it up at last. His blows were remarkably well placed, considering they were delivered in what must have been, for him, total darkness. All Tribble could do was cower and cover his head until they ceased.

When they had, he was unwise enough to speak up in his own defense. “You’d no cause to do that,” said he, whining. “She was my wife and my whore.”

“And so you, too, claim the right of property? She was a human being, you little turd!”

So saying. Sir John whipped one last blow across Tribble’s upright form, doing little hurt but perhaps easing his own sense of outrage. I noted that throughout Sir John’s thrashing of Mr. Tribble there were no huzzahs and no applause from that great crowd of witnesses. They stood and sat most quiet, impressed by what they saw. Their silence gave approval, for only when it was done did the murmuring begin.

Then did Mr. Albert Palgrave wail forth, “I did not sanction it. I tried to get him out of there. I urged him to leave.”

Yet he had fallen back out of range of Sir John’s punishing stick. The magistrate stepped back in disgust.

“Mr. Fuller,” said he, “take them away. I have heard enough, quite enough. I will meet them again at my noon session.”

“It will be my pleasure,” said the constable, and, having in his hand the rope to which their necks were all attached, gave a great tug to it and set them on their way, an awkward ten-legged beast.

Yet before they had traveled far. Sir John called after them, “Mr. Fuller, halt just a moment, if you will. You seem to have the situation well in hand, so could you leave off a weapon or two for Jeremy? He may be put to guard, and he will need something to keep the curious at bay, I fear.”

“Come here then, Jeremy,” Mr. Fuller called back to me, “and take the pistols.”

I jog-trotted up and relieved him of the brace on the belt round his waist.

“They’re loaded, make no mistake,” said he.

“I’ll be careful.”

“See that you are. Here we go, chums!”

And then he gave another tug upon the rope, and willy-nilly his prisoners followed. I, in my turn, made my way back to Sir John, buckling on the pistols, strutting a bit for the benefit of the crowd.

“Jeremy,” said Sir John, “take me to the room in question. I believe there are two stairs and a small porch.” He was, of course, correct. “I would address those who have looked on at our tawdry show. They are still out and gawking, are they not?”

“They are, sir.”

I led him up the stairs and onto the porch, where he turned and spoke forth as he might have in court:

“To all you assembled here. I now address a plea. If you have any information to impart which might lead to the apprehension of him who committed the murder of this unfortunate woman who was your neighbor, then I ask you to report it to this young man here. If you saw a visitor come to her last night, plea.se describe him. If you know her habits, please describe them. Even if what you have are only suspicions, unburden yourselves. Tell him all or anything that might help us. We are quite desperate to find this most vicious killer.”

Then, having made his address, he slapped the floor of the porch with his walking stick as a sort of final punctuation, turned, and carefully entered the room, taking only two steps inside. As I took his place upon the porch, I caught a glimpse over Sir John’s shoulder of that something on the bed. It could hardly be called a corpus, much less a woman. It resembled far more the sides of beef and hog carcasses I had seen on display in Smithfield Market — ribs exposed, the white of other bones protruding through great gashes, and a gaping red hole where the belly should have been. I turned away, not wishing to see more.

Turning to face the court, I folded my arms so that the fingers of each hand rested upon the butt of a pistol. I pulled a stem face, thinking I ought to look formidable; then remembering that I was to be available to any who wished to give evidence, I adjusted my expression to suit that purpose — benign and approachable. Yet from the look of the sitters and the layabouts, there would not be many to come to me; one by one, two by two, they began to depart — some from the court, and others into their rooms and behind their doors; their morning’s entertainment was done.

And so, the while I stood, I had naught to do but listen to the earnest conversation of Sir John and Mr. Donnelly.

Having made his careful entry into the room. Sir John had remained quiet for a time. Then: ‘Ts it as bad as Constable Fuller described?”

“I know not what the constable said, but it is a horror, sir, an absolute horror. In all my days as a surgeon, I have not seen a human body so completely destroyed. The monster who did this must have spent well over an hour at his work.”

“I smell blood and all manner of unholy odors.”

“There is blood quite everywhere one looks. It is here on the wall above her head where it spurted and ran when her throat was cut — that was the immediate cause of death, by the bye — it is here on the bed, bled out from this huge wound in her middle, and it is on the floor, dripped from the organs he removed from her body. All of it is well on its way to drying.”

“That means, of course, that she is some hours dead.”

“Oh yes, I would say she is a good six hours dead, at least, likely longer. Rigor mortis has stiffened her in the carnal posture, naked, of course. She was no doubt murdered late, late at night, at three or so.”

“Given an hour to do his cutting and hacking, he would have left at four — still pitch dark this time of year. Yet, from what you’ve told me, he would have been bloodied from head to toe.”

“A greatcoat could have covered all. Or, another possibility, he himself may have been naked through it all. There is bloody water in a wash basin and traces of scarlet on a dress on the floor nearby. He may have used it to wash and dry himself.”

“A grotesque thought,” said Sir John. “May I come forward a bit without tracking the floor in blood?”

“Oh, no need to worry. Blood has been tracked all about the room. You’re standing in a bit of it now.”

I noted some movement in the room behind me. Silence followed.

“What organs are missing?” Sir John asked after a minute or more.

“That,” replied the surgeon, “is difficult to say at the moment. I shall have to have her brought to my surgery and attempt to put her back together, as it were. There will, in any case, be some missing parts, I suspect.”

“Due, no doubt, to her pimp’s trafficking. I had never heard of such a thing before, could not conceive of it.”

“Perhaps not only to him. The murderer made a fire in the fireplace — or it could be that she lit it to keep them warm during their … their transaction. In any case, I found in the ashes in the grate remains of what appears to be her tongue, which was cut from her mouth. Her eyes, too, were dug out of her head. They would have melted swiftly in an open flame.”

“Good God, what did he leave her?”

“Not much, I fear. Heart was gone and is in the grate complete. It’s a great piece of muscle and not easily burnt. Liver, pancreas, and womb all are gone. Stomach and intestines are intact, and that is lucky, for the digestive process is often helpful in fixing the time of death more exact.”

“I hardly know what to say. Perhaps only that in this instance I am relieved that I need not look upon what you describe to me. It is, as you named it, Mr. Donnelly, a horror.”

There was a long, somber space in which neither man said a word. Then did Mr. Donnelly at last speak up:

“Sir John,” said he, “I believe you must give serious consideration to what I suggested to you last night. You recall, of course?”

“Yes, and I recall that I said it was too dreadful a prospect even to contemplate.”

“Will you now contemplate it?”

“I fear I must.”

“What we see in these four homicides is two very different, even opposed methods of murder. The first and third were done in such a way as to inflict as little outward damage to the victim as possible. This one and the second were done in a fury of slashing and hacking. I believe that very likely the murderer of the second victim was interrupted, or feared he might be. What we have before us here is what he is capable of when left with time and opportunity to follow his devilish design to its end. It amazes me that what was done in a mad fury could be so long sustained through these horrible mutilations. In short, this murderer — shall we call him the second? — wished to cause the most grievous possible damage to the body of his victims.”

“All right,” said Sir John, “let us suppose that there are two murderers. How would you characterize each of them?”

There was the first sign of hesitation from Mr. Gabriel Donnelly who, from the moment he had reopened this question to Sir John, had been speaking rapidly and most persuasively. It was not merely that he paused a good, long moment before replying, but that when he did, he also repeated himself and even stammered a bit.

“How would I characterize each? Yes, well, that is… If I were to say … Let us take the first — him who murders with the narrow blade.”

“Indeed, let us. What do we know of him?”

“First of all, we know that he uses a stiletto, and that is a gentleman’s blade.”