Murder at the matinée – Part 4

Harriet:

"So, what was this all about?" Anne asked curiously. "It looked to be quite serious."

We had decided to walk the little way down to the restaurant they had chosen. A fashionable place that during the day catered for the men working at the various ministry's and in the evening to the many men and women visiting the theatres and music halls along the Strand.

"It was serious," I replied evasively, not wanting to start this kind of conversation in the middle of the street.

"And you are a doctor, too? I presume that is where you have met Hattie?" my friend glanced at my husband, who first looked perplexed and then shook his head, grinning in amusement.

"No, I am not a doctor at all, it was in my line of work I have met my wife, not hers."

"And what line of work would that be? As I understood Harriet, she was called down to Winchester because of a mysterious disease among small children and that she engaged your help with that. So what profession could you possibly have other than being a doctor?" she enquired.

"I am a consulting detective."

"Now, that is funny. You are a consulting detective and your name is Holmes? How befitting! But how could a consulting detective be of any use in such a case? You must be aware, that your wife is a very good doctor."

"I am well aware of that and a consulting detective would be of use when what those children suffered from only had the appearance of an epidemic disease, while in truth it was something else. But that is for Harriet to tell. So, may I ask, Mrs Fraser, what my occupation has to do with my name to make it so fitting?"

Anne gulped as the realisation dawned on her, that it had been a most heinous crime that had brought Sherlock and me together and she clung a little closer to her own man, who did not contribute much to the conversation at this point. After about half a minute though, Anne Fraser had caught herself enough, to answer his question:

"Oh, I told Harriet just the other day, that James and I really like to read detective stories and you must have heard about Sherlock Holmes, the detective, surely."

"Yes, I have, it would be weird, had I not, since I built his reputation, so to speak."

Now the colonel did join the conversation, looking slightly irritated to have his idol seemingly belittled: "So you claim, you are a better detective than Sherlock Holmes?"

"No, I claim to be exactly as good as him and though I generally try to exceed myself, I dare say, I will never be able to catch up on the man and be better than he really is." Sherlock smiled at the slightly huffed man, as we entered the busy restaurant and were seated in a corner.

"And what did you do in that box then? I would have thought your wife was well able to take care of the sick man." Colonel Fraser resumed the conversation when the waiter had taken our outerwear.

"I was searching for answers."

"What answers could you possibly find? And why? And..."

"How is the man who had been taken ill anyway?" Anne asked, interjecting the colonel in an attempt to soothe her husband's irritation, gently placing her hand on his. I knew hers was a good man, but he could have a bit of a temper and his mood could turn quite quickly.

Taking a deep breath I replied, that he had not been taken ill, but had been murdered.

"Murdered!" the Fraser's exclaimed in unison.

"Yes."

"In the middle of a theatre? How would that be possible?" Their astonishment was only natural, I could hardly believe it myself.

"We are not yet sure, but the inspector hopes to have that established over the next couple of hours when an autopsy will be conducted. And I am happy to say, that he would like me to help him in the investigation. There are a couple of very interesting aspects about this case, that make it stand out." my own husband explained almost off hand, before ordering a bottle of Claret for us and trying to decide what to eat.

The menu was varied and versatile and it was indeed hard to make a choice. I was hungry and yet was unsure, whether I would be able to eat anything. Taking my more tightly than usually laced corset into consideration, at long last I decided to pass on an entrée and instead settled on a stuffed chicken cutlet, while the men both ordered the braised beef and Anne a portion of stewed mussels in a cream sauce and some white bread.

"Well, I dare say it must stand out." Anne continued our conversation. "I don't think a murder has been committed this publicly, ever."

"Yes, this is a very public crime, indeed, But there have been murders more publicly committed and in fact there are several similar cases, where someone was killed during a theatre performance – only last year, for example, there was a man killed at the opera in Berlin - he had been stabbed. And there is another case, which happened in '79 right here in London and there are many more, but I do not want to bore you with too many details. It was more, what had been done to this man, that makes this case rather extraordinary."

"I thought you could not tell how he had died."

"And that is true, we could not, but..." Sherlock stopped himself, looking at my friend, unsure whether he could speak of something as gruesome as the murder we had come across this afternoon.

"… the man's head had been almost severed from his shoulders." I finished, refraining from describing the situation in detail, yet knowing Anne's curiosity well enough to know she would not stop easily once her interest was caught. Adding: "But fortunately only after he had died."

"But how can you possibly know, that the head was cut off only after he died?" she gasped, eyes wide and cheeks pale.

"Because of the lack of blood. He had barely bled from that wound, meaning his heart must have stopped beating before his decapitation."

Anne gulped, looking disgusted and disturbed and yet extremely interested, while her husband maintained his scepticism.

"But he sat there with his head attached! I saw him. After all, he basically sat opposite of us."

"I said almost, Colonel. It was still held in place by the ligaments of the spine."

Considering our surroundings and the presence of a lady – well, a lady that had not studied medicine – I wondered, if perhaps another subject should be introduced, but was superseded by Mrs Fraser.

"And you have been looking for evidence trying to find the murderer?" she queried, looking at Sherlock Holmes.

"Naturally. After Harriet had asked me to come over and give her a hand, she went to get the police and I kept guard – and tried to make myself useful." he smiled now, placing his hand on top of mine an squeezing it gently.

"And what when, with your rash actions, you have destroyed any traces that might lead to the solution of this crime?" James Fraser was still in one of his querulous moods and I presumed it had more to do with the lateness of the dinner than with anything else, knowing he was an overly punctual man and insisted on regularity in all aspects of his life.

"There was nothing rash in my actions, Sir. I am extremely attentive to detail, as I know it can be most essential. I keep on reminding the police of that, actually."

The colonel wanted to reply to that, but just then, the starters arrived and the soldiers face lit up. Cocking my eyebrow at my husband he grinned in his endearing manner and before I knew it, had managed to put a bit of his duck liver pâté on a biscuit and had slipped it between my lips.

"Sherlock, really!" I laughed and it was at that moment, that both Anne and James Fraser realised just who was sitting at their table.

"You are Sherlock Holmes?!" Anne Fraser gasped, looking from me to my husband and back.

"Yes." the man himself replied quietly, appearing embarrassed.

"Harriet, why did you not say so?" she asked incredulously.

"Would you have believed me?"

After the starter, the colonel indeed was in a much better mood and wiping his mouth on his napkin leaned back to look at us, now smiling.

"I would have," he said jovially, though did not specify why and I doubted his exclamation at any rate.

xxx

Sherlock:

We took a four-wheeler and dropped off the Fraser's at their house in Hampstead, where we stopped shortly, so Harriet could take a look at little Louise, who lay wide awake in her crib, appearing quite content and I was sure she must have grown half an inch since I had last seen her. The little babe gurgled happily, eager to be picked up. Again I was enthralled, just how natural my wife looked with a baby in her arms and I needed to swallow hard. After having a quick glass of Sherry for our nightcap, we climbed into the waiting carriage and set off towards Chiswick at last, both feeling a bit tipsy.

When we were finally on our own again, I dared to pull my wife close and in the privacy of the carriage kissed her deeply.

"Let us put aside crime until tomorrow and let us enjoy one another," I whispered in anticipation.

"I never thought I would hear such a thing from Mr Sherlock Holmes." Harriet smiled, ruffling my hair, having taken off my top hat and caressing my cheek gently.

"I was not lately married to you before, or else I am pretty certain I would have said something like this a lot sooner. And aside, I am lacking data to carry on with the case and until I have more information, I can just as well explore a bit in another field, that has caught my interest very much lately."

"Sounds very reasonable." my wife replied dryly, kissing me back in a manner that made me hope we would reach home very, very soon.

Despite the murder on our hands, I could not help noticing still, just how gorgeous she looked in that dress of hers, and the excitement of the incident had even increased her appeal, showing her brains matched her good looks. Now her eyes were sparkling in the yellowish light of the street lanterns we passed and there was a cheeky expression on her face, as she slid onto my lap, kissing me even more deeply.

"Right now, I am quite glad, your maid has not returned." I grinned, when we entered the house. "So we can enjoy a bit of privacy."

"Yes, me, too," she admitted, wrapping her arms around me, nuzzling me.

"I am in the mood for something sweet, so, may I have my dessert now? After all, I have waited for it all afternoon and evening long."

"And you still have an appetite after that ample dinner you had?" Harriet teased, while I planted kisses all along her jawline and down her neck.

"What do you think?" I raised an eyebrow, stopping my task.

"It appears so..."

xxx

We woke up fairly early the next morning nonetheless and after a leisurely breakfast took off to see Lestrade.

"And you think he will be all right with me being there?" Harriet enquired, back in her plain everyday clothing, looking uncertain.

"He will have to, my dear," I replied, helping her into the Hansom. "Apart from that, due to the fact that you were the first doctor to arrive at the scene and being the one to have pronounced the man's death, he will, of course, want to question you. And don't you want to have a look at the autopsy report and at this mysterious wire?"

"You are right of course," she answered, snuggling into my arms as we drove towards Scotland Yard. "And yes, I would like that. I am quite curious, what the cause of death was."

"Me, too. Do you think he might have been poisoned? He had Laudanum with him."

She raised her eyebrows asking with a hint of amusement: "Are you not the one, who always says, that one should not jump to conclusions without any data?"

"I am, and yet, do you think it possible?"

"No. I am fairly sure, he was not poisoned. I just wonder if the Laudanum could perhaps have interfered with any signs of how he had died. - Like the lack of bleeding on the cut or any petechial bleeding. I have never paid much attention to these things before, but I find they interest me increasingly."

"Oh, do they? Yes, that indeed would be very interesting to know. I have to admit, I do not know the answer either."

As it was, the body had been brought to the Yard's morgue the evening before – right after the concert had ended, but the autopsy was only about to start when we arrived and Lestrade was complying enough, to invite us along to see for ourselves.

"It was quite a scene after you have left." the inspector spoke, as we made our way down to the small autopsy room. "The wife dissolved into hysterics once again, when she realised that her husband had been murdered and the police presence was not just a mere formality."

"Did she say anything?" I wondered.

"No, she just glanced around, looked at her stepson, who nodded to assure her that it was true what I had said and then she fainted. The daughter in law was a bit more composed, but her husband had to basically drag her along as she was so confused, she did not want to leave."

We turned a corner and took another flight of stairs, reaching yet another whitewashed corridor at whose end the inspector pushed open a door.

A.N.:

Visiting friends and family after one's marriage was a regular Victorian custom and a newly married couple could not really get out of that duty. Till now Mr and Mrs Holmes have done a pretty good job at avoiding it - well technically it would still be their honeymoon, so no-one would expect them to visit just yet, but as they have been invited as a couple by the Fraser's, it would have been very impolite, if Sherlock would have just gone off with Lestrade and his merry men instead of joining them for dinner. Especially considering it was mainly meant for the Fraser's to meet their friends new husband (Yeah, I know they said it was a thank you to Harriet, but let's face it, it was a convenient excuse.), of whom they did not even know the first name, when the invitation was issued. Oh, dear! – Anyhow, I am certain Sherlock knew he would be in trouble with his wife over it, had he left.

And anyway, Sherlock seems to have had other plans for the evening later on as well, so it may indeed be doubted, that he was so very sorry not to have gone with Lestrade straight away.