Tinderbox

Chapter 7: Surprise, Surprise

`Found IT,' the Mouse replied rather crossly: `of course you know what "it" means.'
`I know what "it" means well enough, when I find a thing,' said the Duck: `it's generally a frog or a worm.'

-Lewis Carroll

The village of Coggeshall was sun-drenched that afternoon. Children played beneath the wide chestnuts; tourists strolled in the garlanded main square. In a nearby residential neighborhood, a small neat house had a moving van parked in front. Walking slowly, Sherlock and Molly stopped behind it and stood together, gazing. Molly sighed. "He's dead isn't he."

"Most likely."

She nodded sadly. "I'm good with dead people." Glancing at Sherlock, "Shall we go with the cat story again?"

Sherlock glanced back. "Will you be all right?"

"Yes." Molly squared her shoulders.

Twenty minutes later, the van doors were open and Sherlock and Molly were inside, unloading. They had a system: Sherlock handed the items to Molly, who deposited them on a small pile on the pavement, all under the watchful eye of a pregnant Joan Williams. The stink of decomp that had been faint when they first opened the doors was growing stronger the further in they went. Molly was silently repeating the same platitudes she did in the morgue: Answers for the family, justice for the dead, truth leads to healing; but honestly, she felt like crying. And she kept having to call, "Kitty, kitty!" to sell their story, which made her sadder still.

Ahead of her, Sherlock removed one last chair revealing the repairman, crumpled in a dark pool, hand wrapped in a bloody jumper. Both sighed. Beside the body was an open mobile; Molly handed Sherlock a pair of gloves, and he picked it up, checking the call record. "He rang this number, Renee, at ten forty-three Wednesday night. Most likely the last thing he did before he died." He handed the mobile to Molly. "Enter it in a throwaway. And-" he removed the repairman's wallet "-he was Daniel Russell-"

"Have you found your cat?" Joan Williams was calling from outside.

With a glance at Molly, "How are you at screaming?"

XXXXX

Outside, Joan felt her baby turn as a scream cut from the van, and the tall man leaned out. "Ring 999! There is a man back here! I think he's dead!" Oh! She took out her mobile and made the call. A moment later, the tall man reemerged, holding his pretty young wife. "Pardon me but this whole business has very much upset my wife. She is having a panic attack." He helped her down; oh dear, she was hyperventilating. The man continued, "I must take her to hospital. We shall give the police our names and numbers from there." Watching as he walked off with his arm around the poor pale girl, Joan ran a hand over her belly: There, there!

XXXXX

The St. Bart's van was where they had left it, four blocks away. Molly never thought she would be happy to see the boxy machine that had jolted them all the way to Coggeshall. She had worked with many cadavers, but always in a lab: Calm, clean. This was so raw. She glanced at Sherlock, pacing and musing into his hands. Behind his back, the other lab techs called him 'Data.' When he had been particularly beastly, she had joined in the laughter, but right now, the detachment seemed rather appealing.

Sherlock looked up. "Do you have the-?" Molly handed him the throwaway, and he pressed call. "Hello, madam. This is officer Smith from the London Police ringing in regards to Daniel Russell-" He flinched, holding the device away from his ear as Renee's shrill voice raged, and Molly felt her throat tighten in sympathy. When the outburst quieted, Sherlock continued, "Yes. We believe the van was heading to Coggeshall. It is quite important that we review your testimony. As you told the previous officer, Daniel had said he had a job late Wednesday-?" He held the mobile out so Molly could hear.

"He was done for the day, but had a call from a foreign man-He didn't mention the name!- to fix a kiln. Half past seven. That's when he rang to tell me he was taking it. Then at quarter to eleven-" She broke into a sob.

"He rang to say he was attacked."

Rene's voice rose to a hysterical pitch, "They tried to kill him! They locked him up and-"

"What precipitated that attack?"

Renee gasped- "Bones! Human bones! A redheaded woman knocked over a plastic tub. He saw a skull and a leg bone and other bones-"

"All right, madam. The Coggeshall police will be contacting you shortly." Sherlock closed the mobile, wiped it and dropped it down a storm drain.

"Not drugs. Corpses." Molly felt her gorge rising and took a deep breath. "You knew, didn't you."

"No, not for certain. There was no evidence of ecstasy production in the rubbish outside; I suspected something more sinister." He resumed pacing. "Okay. Molly, you know cadavers. How would you get rid of one? Talk me through it."

Molly took another deep breath. Right. "The fastest, most complete way would be to dissolve it in lye-"

"No. They would need a large pressure cooker and seventy gallons of water. They had a kiln and a walk-in."

"Okay, if that's what I had…" Molly felt herself calming, focusing. "First, I would remove the viscera and drain the blood. The fastest way would be to-Ah! Those holes in the top of the walk-in! They were probably for hooks to hold an inverted cadaver. The cold would cut down on the smell and insect activity." Molly blinked in amazement; it was as though her brain had been taken over by someone far more clever than she. Feeling slightly breathless, "Once the blood was drained, the body could be dismembered and incinerated piece by piece in the kiln…" Frowning, "But that would take some time-"

"He saw bones."

"Oh, right. To get rid of the flesh I would- Oh- OH! Stupid-of course!"

"What?"

"In the rubbish pile at the house: Dark dirt; do you remember?" She glanced at Sherlock, who shook his head. "I took a picture. There were casings from Dermestes maculatus. Rather a lot of them."

"Hide beetles. Rather common. But there couldn't have been-"

"Exactly! The larvae will eat anything related to skin or hides. If hide beetles had been in the bin with the finger-"

"The finger would not have had any flesh on it. The casings were placed there: Rubbish from the house!"

"They must have been using the beetles to remove the flesh, then the kiln to incinerate the bones." Catching her breath, Molly admired it: A puzzle solved! Then she felt ill: What hideous people.

"Neat." Sherlock's eyes lit. "A boutique."

"What?"

"Don't you see? It's magic! They transform bodies into household ornaments or children's toys- Oh! Of course! Mementoes!"

"Mementoes?" Molly's head was starting to swim.

"The teddy bears, Molly! The vases! They are stuffed with ashes! Proof the job was done. So elegant!" Molly had never seen him this excited, almost giddy. He opened the van door. "Let us return to London. I shall ring Mycroft. We'll put a name to this butcher."

Wonderful.

XXXXX

In the warehouse, Elaina was feeling the itch. She had finished her last romance the night before, her old books were burnt, but she was forbidden to leave because of that stupid accident. The ghastly moment ran incessantly through her mind: The tub falling, bursting open; the bones skittering across the floor; the kiln repairman dropping his spanner- It didn't matter that they had planned to do it all along; that it was the repairman's escape that caused the trouble, and whose fault was that! Nothing mattered: She was tainted. Trapped. She stood and began to pace. She needed-

XXXXX

At the bar of a cheerful pub, bustling with tired but contented people, John was nursing a cup of coffee. He was very happy. Someone clapped him on the shoulder, and he looked up to see Peter Clay grinning down at him. "Stellar first day, Dr. Watson! Nice catch on the Jones' child!"

"Oh! Thanks!"

"Many would have let that slip by, but not you." Peter looked up and waved someone over. "I'd like you to meet my daughter Rebecca. Rebecca, this is Doctor John Watson. Rebecca is doing her first year of residency at Mercy View."

Oh. My. Lovely! "Ah! What is your-"

"Pediatrics. My sister and I are mad about your blog. We're so glad you're working with Dad. You must come over for dinner."

"Love to!"

Peter smiled broadly. "Sit down Rebecca. I'll fetch us some food."

John's heart flipped gratefully as Rebecca took the stool next to him. Do sit! Sit and stay.