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Chapter Four – Holmes and the Official Force
Holmes travelled down to Brighton on the train and arrived just after nine o'clock. As he stepped out onto the platform he noticed the familiar figure of Inspector Lestrade at the other end, talking to a young constable. He moved quickly, trying to avoid being recognised but the inspector had keener eyes than Holmes would give him credit for and he spotted him almost instantly.
"Mr Holmes!" he called across the noisy platform at him. Holmes sighed to himself then nodded in recognition and walked up to meet him. The man was a good deal shorter than him yet what he lacked in height he more than made up for in presence. At first glance Lestrade looked rather unthreatening and unassuming, but there was bold intensity in his dark eyes and he kept himself tensed, ready to spring into action. He was a man of great energy.
He'd make an excellent detective if he wasn't such a fool, Holmes thought with malicious amusement.
"Inspector," he greeted nonchalantly.
"Mr Holmes," Lestrade returned, "Mrs Harris informed me that she'd been to see you." As though to demonstrate he took a telegram from his breast pocket and waved it casually.
"I'm rather surprised to see you this far from London, Lestrade," Holmes said as they walked out of the train station together, Holmes taking long strides, the inspector picking up his pace to keep up with him.
"Yes, well, to be honest with Mr Holmes I'm a little surprised myself. I was just told by the Chief Inspector to help out the local police on this disappearance case. The local police don't have the resources of Scotland Yard," Lestrade announced proudly.
"That must be the reason then," Holmes said, although he was not convinced that was the reason. To Lestrade's credit, Holmes didn't think he believed it either.
Much more likely that the Chief Inspector is nervous about the reputation of Sir Edward and his wife and preferred to have a discreet Scotland Yarder rather than a local man, Holmes reasoned.
They took a cab to the Harrises' home together.
"The local police are swamped at the moment," Lestrade continued as the cab rattled down the road. "Apparently there have been three other disappearances in the last week."
"Other disappearances?" Holmes asked sharply. "Who are these other people?"
Lestrade pulled out his pocket notebook and flicked through the pages. "Er, a Lucy Everidge, a maid who works for a Mr John Harvey, a shop girl by the name of Ethel Parkinson and Jane Carr, a cleaner."
"All working class girls," Holmes announced thoughtfully to himself. "Is there any connection between them?" he asked Lestrade.
"Well, Parkinson and Carr were friends, but there seems to be no connection with the other girl, well, none that the local police could find," the inspector answered putting his notebook away, "but it can't be a coincidence! Four disappearances in less than a week! There must be a common factor that links all these girls."
"Quite right, Lestrade," Holmes answered. How oddly perceptive of you inspector, was his silent thought.
When they arrived at their destination, Holmes was immediately struck by how grand and elegant the Harris' house was. Whatever the link between Anna Harris and these other missing girls was, it certainly wasn't station as the Harrises were evidently very well off.
Mrs Harris ran out to greet them. Holmes noticed another woman standing by the front door and he recognised her from Mrs Harris' description. It was Lady Wells, standing there, watching the three of them intently. She certainly was beautiful, but there was something wrong about her that Holmes couldn't quite put his finger on. Beauty wasn't meant to send cold shivers down the spine.
"Mr Holmes," Mrs Harris said breathlessly, "I'm glad that you could come."
"I said I would, Mrs Harris," Holmes replied, trying not to laugh at the indignant expression on Lestrade's face as he was ignored. "Mrs Harris, this is Inspector Lestrade, of Scotland Yard."
Lestrade removed his hat politely. "Mrs Harris," he greeted.
"Oh, inspector, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," she said. Holmes bit hard on the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from laughing out loud. He feared that Lestrade distrusted him enough without aggravating him further.
While Mrs Harris retold her story to the inspector, Holmes snuck away to the back of the house, where the servants were getting on with their day to day work. He found the butler handing the cook the menu for lunch.
He was a stout man with a serious looking face but healthy complexion. His greying hair was slicked down and his black suit was immaculate. The cook was a thin woman with a rather
pale gaunt face and sunken grey eyes. She looked unwell actually, probably shaken by all the recent bad news.
Holmes introduced himself and both servants expressed their relief that he had agreed to take the case on.
"Did you both work for the old Major?" Holmes asked.
"Yes sir," the butler answered in a deep, clear voice, "a very generous employer."
"It was terrible when he died," the cook added, her grey eyes filled with sadness. "And it was so unexpected."
Holmes regarded them with interest. "I thought Major Morrison had a weak heart."
"Oh yes, sir," the butler replied, stroking his broad chin with a thick hand, "but he was very careful, sir. He was the sort to look after himself, took the doctor's advice very seriously."
"That's right, sir," the cook piped up, "he gave me a great long list of all the foods the doctor told him to cut down on."
"And he'd cut out smoking and drinking," the butler announced. "It cut down the household bill considerably."
Holmes paused whilst his brain digested this interesting and intriguing new information, then he continued his questioning.
"I understand that Major Morrison was very good friends with Sir Edward Wells and his wife."
The butler looked puzzled for a moment then replied, "I wouldn't say friends. More, acquaintances really. It's not really any of my business, sir, but I'd say there was a good bit o' tension between them. Although I don't know why, the master was a kind and generous man."
"The loss must have been a heavy one," Holmes said, feigning sympathy. He watched their reaction carefully. The cook nodded solemnly in agreement and looked down at the parquet floor.
"Young Mary took it the hardest," the cook said.
"Mary?" Holmes inquired, keeping his tone casual, not wanting it to appear of any real importance.
"The scullery maid, sir," the butler answered. "She left soon after the master's death."
"She wasn't really suited to domestic service anyway," the cook inserted. "I don't think she was brought up to be a worker. I always suspected that she came from a higher station."
"What made you think that?"
"Well she spoke posh," the woman replied. "Poor thing. Sometimes when rich families lose their money the young'uns have to get jobs."
Holmes smiled gratefully at the two servants, bowed politely, thanked them for their help and then left to find Lestrade. He wanted more information about those other missing girls.
Lestrade had agreed to give Holmes the details on the missing girls as long as he could go with him to interview the friends and family. When faced with such a situation Holmes had had to agree but had done so grudgingly.
"What did you make of Lady Wells?" Holmes asked the inspector as they travelled into the village together. The inspector shuddered.
"Well, very beautiful," he said hesitantly.
"But?" Holmes prompted, sensing the pause in Lestrade's sentence.
"But, she's a bit..." he struggled to find the right words. "Well she's a bit scary actually."
Holmes couldn't control the torrent of laughter that burst forth from him. He had seen Lestrade face down some of London's worst criminals and not even flinch. Lady Wells must be a frightening and formidable woman indeed.
"Lucy was a very good worker," John Harvey, the retired solicitor said. "She was always punctual and tidy and I've never had any complaints with her work."
"Did she have any friends in the village?" Lestrade asked.
"Well, I really wouldn't know." Then John Harvey thought about the question for few minutes. Holmes watched as the man's eyes seemed to light up as a thought occurred to him. "Wait a minute, there was a girl recently who Lucy had been talking to. I overheard her one evening talking to my cook about her. Young girl, Mary I think her name was."
Holmes exclaimed loudly, "hah!" startling Lestrade and the old solicitor.
Mrs Carr was an elderly frail woman who was unable to work and was totally reliant on her young daughter Jane. She lay on the settee in the living room which had become her bedroom and she was joined by a tall, well built young man.
"Young Carl here has been looking out for me since Jane..." she broke off with a sob.
"You're Carl Smith. You are a friend of Miss Carr and Miss Parkinson's?" Lestrade asked the handsome, sandy haired young man sat beside poor Mrs Carr.
"Ethel and me was walking out together," he clarified, "her and Jane have been friends since they was little."
"Think very carefully, Mr Smith," Holmes said in a low voice as he leaned toward the young man, "had Miss Carr and Miss Parkinson been spending a lot of time with a woman called Mary?"
Carl Smith looked up at the older man in surprise. "Yes, sir," he confirmed in a quiet whisper, "they met her recently. She'd said she was new to the village and didn't know anyone. Ethel and Jane were friendly and they liked helping people out."
"There's our connection, Lestrade," Holmes said, his eyes glittering with excitement as they stepped out of Mrs Carr's house and into the bright sunlight.
"Well, yes, this woman called Mary," Lestrade replied in an exasperated tone. "But who is she?"
"She worked for Major Morrison before he died."
"Mrs Harris' uncle?" Lestrade began to see the hint of a pattern in his brain but the entire picture was still obscured. Holmes watched as he frowned, wondering if such hard thinking was giving him a headache.
"Yes, but she left a few days after the Major passed away," Holmes explained further. Holmes stopped to examine his pocket watch. If he hurried he would just be in time for the next train back to London, where he was certain Watson would have some interesting news for him. He turned to the inspector. "Now Lestrade, I have to leave for London."
"But Mr Holmes!" Lestrade called after him, "what conclusions have you drawn from all this?"
Holmes felt his shoulders drop as another sigh escaped him. You can be so tiresome. "Ah, Lestrade," Holmes replied, "you follow your line and I'll follow mine. Come to Baker Street if you have any further information."
Before the inspector could say anything further Holmes ran off and climbed into the nearest cab and headed for the station.
Holmes sat back in the cab and thought carefully about all the information he had collected.
Despite looking after himself Major Morrison has a heart attack.
Sir Edward lied about being good friends with the Major. Why would he lie? What was his quarrel with the Major?
This Mary who worked for the Major and knew all three of the missing girls; where did she fit in and who was she working for? Were she and the other girls responsible for Anna Harris' disappearance?
The evidence seems to point to Sir Edward or his wife, as that was where Anna Harris was heading. So if it was them, what was the motive?
He was so lost in his own thoughts that it took him a few minutes to realise that the cab had drawn to halt in the middle of a thin winding road. When he noticed that they weren't moving he leaned out the window and looked out at the driver.
"Hey," he said, "why have you stopped?"
The driver said nothing, merely sat there completely still, looking directly ahead of him, ignoring his fare.
Suddenly apprehensive Holmes climbed out of carriage. As he quickly took in the surroundings he realised that they weren't even en route to the station and his cab driver had taken him way off course. They were surrounded by nothing but fields and trees and there were no houses or any other signs of civilisation.
He looked up at the driver. He was sitting bolt upright in his chair, still ignoring Holmes as he tried to get his attention.
Holmes soon reasoned that he was in danger but his reasoning was just a fraction too slow, for as he was about to turn on his heels and run he felt something heavy being brought down on his head.
There was a loud crack and pain shot through him down his spine. The world rapidly went grey and shrank away as consciousness slipped away from him. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.