Chapter Two
"See what I mean, sir?"
"Indeed…"
George and William stood gaping at the objects jammed in a dark, cluttered pair of rooms: shelves, cabinets, desks, a steamer trunk, tables, a chalk board and a workbench competed for floor space. Light seeped through in slanted stripes from between boards on the windows, accentuating dust wafting in the air. Both men stepped inside, moving carefully between the furnishings. William registered the vague smell of solder and various chemicals, but what drew his attention were a series of apparatuses, devices and little vignettes placed on each flat surface. His gaze quickly evaluated the evidence.
"It seems Edgar Brown was some sort of tinkerer; however, none of these is an invention per se, at least not one I can understand."
"But it does explain why he was so reluctant to vacate: he did not want to leave all this behind!" George waved his hand broadly around the room. "What was he up to sir?"
William was absorbed by a series of glass beakers set in a tray which contained a tangle of other glassware and tubing. He picked up one of the chemical bottles to read the label then put it back down. "Dr. Ogden is the better chemist, but… Ah…" He turned the valve, releasing one liquid into another, then swirled the solutions together; when he did the beaker turned a bright blue.
"How did you do that?" George's curiosity was piqued. "Both of those looked like plain, clear water."
"A simple chemical reaction." He almost started to lecture, then realized it was irrelevant. "I have no idea why it is here, all ready to go." He frowned, waving at the glassware. "One does not need such an overblown array; any child can do this." He eye was caught by another tableau on a work-bench across the room, which sported a nest of wires connected to several batteries, powering a simple Edison bulb. William walked over to it, past the chalk board which had writing on both sides. William glanced at them on the way past; he expected scientific formulae or schematics, instead it was a simple outline of a balanced polyhedron on one side and on the other appeared rather simplistic word games of the sort that were published in the Gazette and about which Henry and George constantly argued. He examined the bulb, flipping a switch and noticing the circuit did not complete.
"George, you are certain these are Edgar Brown's rooms?"
"Yes. He was a bit peculiar, according to the owner; 'eccentric' was the word Mr. Longmeadow used. Mr. Brown insisted on these rooms and these rooms only. He was always here, coming and going all hours, never let anyone else in. He wanted to be on this floor with windows at street level, going so far as to pay off the previous occupant and sign a two-year contract." George flipped a page up in his notebook standing next to the trunk in the center of the floor which had three locks on the lid, to finish his recitation. "Hisis rental agreement was the basis of Mr. Brown's legal argument against the Longmeadow brothers and Mr. Fordhook, complaining that evicting him broke his lease. He refused all compensation."
William turned to examine the trunk and fiddle with the sturdy locks, dropping one against the side of the trunk with a clunk. "Open only with keys or the contents will perish. That is quite overly dramatic." When he tried to shove the trunk aside, it would not budge.
George shrugged and pointed at the trunk. "Looks like he did not want anyone to get inside there. If it's so important, I wonder why he did not take it or any of his other belongings…it does not make any sense. What do you make of it?"
William shook his head and surveyed the room again, intrigued by what he saw. "I am not sure Mr. Brown is a mad genius as you suggested, George. These devices and experiments he has laid out are curious, but perhaps he is merely mad." He stepped over to the chalk board. There were two questions written on one side. Without thinking, he picked up chalk and went to finish the first. "The 'Feathered tribe which can lift the heaviest weight...'"
"Oh! That would be a crane," George offered, with a quirk of his mouth, just as William was writing. "I quite enjoy word games."
"Very good, George…" he praised. "I always thought you were better at this than Henry."
"Best not say so…" George winked. "Well, I have been expanding my wordsmithing. By the way, I am thinking of publishing my own Anagram word game, based on how you had Henry solve that Black Bart pirate map business…but instead of letters on wooden blocks for children, I will have the letters on small clay tiles. I already have a name, I will call it 'Scramble.'" When he did not get a rise out of the detective he went on to work out the next puzzle. "This one though, is a head-cracker: 'Who killed the greatest number of chickens?' Mr. Brown seems awfully obsessed with birds, doesn't he?" George was rather put out that his discovery of Brown's rooms was not very exciting after all, settling a hip dejectedly on the trunk lid.
William smiled. "As a writer, I should think you would study the greatest of all English writers: William Shakespeare! The answer is 'Claudius'. In Shakespeare's Hamlet, the ghost of Hamlet's father explains that Hamlet's uncle, Claudius…"
"Ah-ha! 'Did murder most foul'….a double entendre. That is very clever!" George explained approvingly. "But why does Mr. Brown have these two puzzles written down?" His wide smile wavered when the detective did not respond, but merely stood still, seemingly mesmerized by the black slate rectangle. "Sir?" George prompted. No answer. He checked his watch in the dim light. "Shouldn't we get going, detective? Since there is nothing more here?" The hairs on the back of his neck bristled: George knew that look on his detective's face.
"What are the names of those missing people you were going on about George?" William asked.
"What?" the constable felt his face flush.
"You mentioned a Mr. Blau?"
"Yes, Richard Blau."
"I believe blau is German for blue. Was there not a Gerald Crane? A Mary Leight? And Claude Shafter?" William's memory ticked off the results of George's most recent outrageous speculations, ones he dismissed just an hour before. "It is too great a coincidence that Mr. Brown created these little puzzles, the solutions to which reference people on your list, don't you agree?"
Gasping in astonishment, George's eyes bugged wide. "Dear Lord!" He jumped off the triple-locked trunk in horror, swiping at the back of his trousers. "You think he is our cannibal and he has shrunken them down and has them trapped in this piece of luggage…? You know, I have heard of head shrinking and…"
"No George, I do not think that," William paused to take a calming breath and put a check on his temper. George can embroider on a flight of fancy like no other. He sighed. "Edgar Brown might fit the psychological portrait of a man with unhealthy or evil compulsions. He has demonstrated he is secretive, controlling, and litigious. What I believe is that perhaps we have uncovered a sequential killer and these are his so-called trophies… it explains why he wanted no one to disturb him or dispossess him of these rooms."
"So this is a lair, but instead of a mad genius, just an evil man..." George looked a little green. "But, um, sir… if no bodies, maybe he did eat them?" George asked tentatively, not sure if he wanted to have guessed right or not.
William ignored that. He stared at the vignettes, counting them up in his head. "George, you said you tallied up six missing people, but I see ten vignettes." William pointed them out one by one, then crossed his arms over his chest. "On second thought, what if these vignettes are not trophies, but clues to the identities of the missing people and possibly their whereabouts?"
"What do you mean?"
William gestured to the locked trunk and its ominous message. "The puzzles are not finished. It is as if they were created as a message for someone. Do you suppose…" William walked over to one of the tables and examined the apparatus there from several angles. With a shrug, he pulled on a rope, expecting to set off a series of items moving, pushing, and falling like dominoes, until the effects of mass, motion and gravity came to an enlightening conclusion.
Instead, George saw a small baseball bat swing down from the wall and knock the detective out cold.