Sherlock Holmes: The Dark Reckoning (8 page)

“Sally Spencer was making her way to Charing Cross Road,
wasn’t she, Holmes?” asked Watson.

“Yes.  She could have continued along Haymarket to Coventry Street and turned right.  However, I think she would have favoured the quieter
roads as it would have been quicker.  Let us try Orange Street as a starting
point.”

As the two men turned into Orange Street, Holmes took the
handkerchief he had wiped the blood found at Scotland Yard onto, and let Ginny
sniff it.  Ginny led them along Orange Street, but seemed unsure which way to
proceed when they reached the junction of Whitcomb Street.  Holmes let her sniff
the handkerchief again, but she didn’t pick up any scent.

“It would make sense if Miss Spencer travelled in a
northerly direction from here, Holmes,” ventured Watson.

“I agree, Watson.  Let us cross the road and walk along Whitcomb Street.  Perhaps Ginny will pick the scent up from there.”

At 11:30am, Ginny led the men into Lisle Street and began to
pull on her lead.  She took them directly to a blood stain on the kerb.  Holmes
squatted down to examine the immediate area.  He discovered two teeth in the gutter
and a few strands of blonde hair, stuck to a small piece of blood soaked skin
on the edge of the kerb.  Blood was splattered across the pavement and a thick
line of it was smeared off of the edge of the kerb into the road.  There were
tracks from a carriage visible in the frost that matched the tracks found at
Scotland Yard.  Furthermore, there were two sets of footprints visible, one of
which matched the mark found on the dead girl’s throat.  The other set of
footprints were considerably larger.

“Well, Watson,” said Holmes.  “This is where the initial
assault appears to have taken place.  Thanks to Ginny’s acute sense of smell,
we have found the scene of Miss Spencer’s attack.  These would appear to be her
footprints, which suggest that she was walking towards her sister’s home and
was stalked from behind.  And look!”  Holmes pointed to a nearby gate.

“What is it?” asked Watson following Holmes’ gaze.

“Over there!  It’s a hammer!”  Holmes ran over to the hammer
and stooped down to look at it more closely.

Watson followed, asking, “Is that the weapon used on Miss
Spencer, Holmes?”

“It appears so, Watson.  As you can see, it is covered with
blood.  If you look more closely, there are strands of hair stuck on the head
of the hammer that match Miss Spencer’s in colour and length.”

Both Watson and Holmes made sketches and notes of all they
could see at the crime scene and then placed the items they had discovered into
bags.

Holmes turned to Watson, and said, “We shall take these
items to Scotland Yard soon, Watson.  Before doing so, let us see if we can
retrace the attacker’s footsteps.”

With the help of Ginny, they were able to trace back to
where the man had hidden himself behind a garden wall in Leicester Street the previous
night.  Watson noticed a cigarette that had been stamped out when only about
half finished.  “Look here, Holmes.  Somebody put a cigarette out, before
finishing it.”

“Well spotted, Watson.  The boot print surrounding the
cigarette does appear to match the larger of the footprints we found in Lisle Street.  I expect he was waiting here for Miss Spencer, and decided to smoke.  Upon
hearing her approach, he put the cigarette out and hid behind this wall.  His
footprints are easily discernable in this flower bed.”

“That makes perfect sense, Holmes.  Can you deduce anything
else?”

“Judging by the prints left by his shoes, or boots, I would
imagine that the attacker is a fairly poor man.  The tread is very well worn,
as shown by the indentations in the flower bed.  Furthermore, the right footprint
shows more wear than the left, so it is possible that the attacker may suffer a
slight limp affecting his right leg.”

“If he spent time waiting here, somebody may have noticed
him,” commented Watson.

“Bravo, Watson!  That is entirely plausible.”  Holmes looked
at the surrounding houses and noticed a middle aged woman staring at him
through a window.

“Ah, she appears to be somewhat inquisitive,” he mentioned, “Let
us go and speak to her.”

Holmes collected the stamped out cigarette and made his way
to the front door, with Watson.  He was about to knock on the door when it was
pulled open from within by the woman who had just been looking from the window.

She stared coldly at the two men and snapped, “What do ya’
want, snooping around ‘ere?”

“My name is Sherlock Holmes, and I am investigating a crime
that took place in this area last night.  Did you see anything, or anyone,
suspicious last night?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Holmes.  After a
short pause, she asked, “What sort of crime?”

“A young lady was murdered,” answered Watson.

“Oh, no.  What is this world comin’ to?” asked the woman
rhetorically.  Her stare softened and she continued, “I saw a bloke hangin’
around outside.  It was just after eleven last night when I saw ‘im.  He was
pacin’ around for about ten or fifteen minutes.  All of a sudden, he hid in the
garden where I just saw you two.”

“Can you describe this man?” asked Holmes.

“All I can really say is that he was big.  It was a foggy
night, so I didn’t get much of a look.”

“Is there anything else you remember about him?”

“Come to think of it, I saw him smoking a cigarette.  When he
lit it and the match was near ‘is face, I think I saw a scar on ‘is right
cheek.  Can’t be completely sure though.”

“What happened after he had hidden himself behind the garden
wall?” asked Watson.

“He waited there for about five minutes and then suddenly
came out of the garden and walked into Lisle Street, deary,” replied the woman
smiling, showing off her rotten brown teeth.

“Please continue,” prompted Holmes.

“I didn’t like the look of the bloke.  At first, I was too
scared to follow, but after a bit, I wanted to make sure that ‘e was gone.  I
went into Lisle Street and there was a big carriage.  The bloke I ‘ad seen was
there wiv’ another one.  They lifted someone into the carriage, and then the
bigger bloke climbed up into the driver’s seat.  The other bloke looked around
and then got inside.  After that the carriage started to move towards me, so I
hid until it was gone.”

“Can you describe the shorter of the two men?” asked Holmes.

“I suppose ‘e might have been about the same height as your
friend,” she answered, pointing at Watson.  She then went on, “I only got a
glimpse.  He was a bit ugly.  He had fat, round lips.  I can’t tell you anyfing
else.  I only saw that much ‘cos ‘e stood near a streetlight for a moment.”

Holmes smiled at the woman and said, “Thank you.  You have
been extremely helpful.”

“Anytime, deary.  I hope you catch ‘em,” said the woman, as
she closed the door and went inside.

As the two men turned away, Holmes said, “I think we had
better return Ginny to Mr. Bloomfield.”

The men walked the dog along Whitcomb Street, towards Trafalgar Square.

On their way, Holmes asked, “When the woman described the shorter
of the two men, who did it remind you of, Watson?”

“Erm…  Her description matches what we know of our suspect,
so I would say that it is Stephen Wood.”

“Anyone else?” prompted Holmes

“No, I don’t think so, Holmes.”

“Imagine if he wore a beard and moustache.  Can you picture
anyone apart from the suspect?”

“No, I’m afraid that I can’t, Holmes.  Who do you have in
mind?”

Holmes paused, perhaps for dramatic effect, and then
replied, “Arthur Smith.”

“But it can’t be!  When I left Paignton, he was so busy
working on his farm and said that he would not be coming to London for several
months.”

“Could the description, the lady just gave us, apply to
Arthur Smith, Watson?” asked Holmes with persistence in his voice.

Watson thought for a moment before replying, in an
unconvinced manner, “Well, I suppose it could, Holmes.  But her description
could apply to any of several men!  I don’t understand why you are trying to
establish a connection between the description and Arthur.”

“I am not entirely convinced that the primary purpose of
your visit to Arthur’s farm was to help him get settled in.”

A look of shock developed on Watson’s face, as he snapped,
“That is preposterous!  All I did the entire time I was with Arthur was to help
out on the farm.  You are being ridiculous!”  His voice became more raised as
he spoke and his eyes narrowed, indicating his growing anger.

“I have no doubt that you spent the majority of your time
helping Arthur, but I still believe there was another reason for your visit,”
added Holmes, as he watched Watson’s lips stiffen and his face flush.

Watson stopped walking and, glaring at Holmes, shouted, “How
dare
you accuse me of being a liar, Sir!  I
demand
you explain
yourself!”  Watson’s fists were bunched, as he continued glaring at Holmes,
awaiting a response.

“Calm yourself, Watson.  I am accusing you of no such
thing.”

“Yes you are!” came the angered response.

Holmes smiled briefly, amused at how easily Watson became
annoyed.

“Would you please allow me to elucidate?” he asked in a
voice somewhat too calm.

Watson looked around, not sure quite what to do.  He knew
that Holmes would have an explanation that would render his anger pointless. 
Despite still feeing irritated at Holmes, he was also curious.

After a few moments he said, somewhat sarcastically, “Very
well.  Please
do
elucidate.”

“Tell me, Watson, did you get drunk at any point during your
time with Arthur?”

All remaining anger immediately drained out of Watson, as
Holmes’ question sparked a memory from his visit to Devon.

“You are incredible, Holmes.  How did you know?  One
evening, Arthur suggested that we share some wine.  After only half a glass, or
so, I remember feeling very strange.  I looked at my glass and realised that I
shouldn’t be feeling so drunk.  I don’t remember anything else from that point
until the next morning.”

“How did you feel the next morning?  Were you suffering with
a hangover?”

“That’s another odd thing.  I felt slightly groggy, but it
wasn’t as bad as a hangover.”

“I believe you were drugged, Watson.”

“Surely not, Holmes.  Smith is such a decent fellow.  What
possible reason could he have to drug me?”

“I fear that he wanted to gain information from you, old
fellow.  It is my firm belief that Arthur Smith and Stephen Wood are the same
man.  If I am correct, he tricked you into visiting him, with the intention of
getting you to reveal information about people connected to the trial of his
brother.”

“Are you serious?  Do you really believe that Arthur Smith
is actually Stephen Wood?  What information would I have been in a position to
give him?”

“Stephen Wood was never present at his brother’s trial. 
From what I recall, he had been committed to the lunatic asylum before his
brother’s case came to court.  Therefore, he was not privy to any details of
the witnesses, or other people involved in securing Stanley Wood’s conviction.”

Holmes paused, as he felt awkward about what he needed to
say next.  He then continued, “Watson, it is my belief that you, unwittingly,
provided Stephen Wood with details about his intended victims.  He subsequently
used this information to find and kill anyone he felt was responsible for the
death of his brother.”

Watson’s face sank.  He stood looking down at the ground and
quietly said, “But that means people are being killed because of me.”

Holmes placed a hand on Watson’s shoulder and replied,
reassuringly, “That isn’t true, Watson.  You are in no way responsible.  You
were tricked.  The reason people are being killed is because someone, possibly
Stephen Wood, is murdering them, not because of anything that you have done.  Please
try not to feel so bad, old fellow.”

Watson looked up to see Holmes smiling at him.  He still
felt awful, as he asked, “How could I have been so easily fooled, Holmes?  I
never suspected
anything
about Arthur.”

“Arthur Smith, or should I say Stephen Wood, fooled us both,
Watson.  With his beard and glasses, it would have been difficult to have
recognised him as Wood.  I had noticed that he wore dark glasses, even when
inside.  Although I thought that strange, I accepted his explanation that he
suffered from photophobia.  Now, it seems more likely that he wore those
glasses to hide his eyes from us.”

Watson gave a dejected sigh, but said nothing.

Holmes, concerned at how upset his friend was, added,
“Watson, this is only a theory.  I may not be correct about you being used in
such an awful way.  I may even be wrong about Stephen Wood and Arthur Smith
being the same man.”

“I know you are trying to help, old man, but you are
always
right about these types of things.”

“Not always, Watson.”  The reply seemed thoughtful, as
though Holmes was looking inwards as he uttered the words.  Watson noticed a
hint of melancholy show on Holmes’ face.

Holmes quickly snapped out of his thoughtfulness, and, with
a smile, added, “Come along, Watson.  We should take Ginny back home, and then deliver
the items we found to Scotland Yard.  After that, I have something that I would
like to try out.”

“What about Miss Spencer, Holmes?” asked Watson.  “Should we
not tell her about her sister?”

“Yes, of course.  You are quite right, Watson.  After we
have taken Ginny home and delivered this evidence to Scotland Yard, we can take
a Hansom cab to Charing Cross Road.”

After taking Ginny back to Mr. Bloomfield, the two men found
a Hansom cab to take them to Scotland Yard, where the handed all the evidence
they had gathered to Inspector Lestrade, and gave him a description of the
crime scene.  Following this, they continued their journey to see Miss
Spencer.  Neither of the men spoke during the journey.