Chapter Notes: Because of some sort of upload bug, I was unable to load any chapters over the weekend. Now that is fixed I have two ready to go.
This chapter has a lot of French because I am dealing with a lot of french speaking persons. I made sure there were translations and a history lesson on Huguenots in the margin at the bottom. That should help. I am trying to be accurate to the detail and the period plus add some details that have been scoped out and researched. If I missed something I'm sure someone will mention it soon enough LOL!
I really liked Lestrade in this chapter. Watson is a huge presence but I find this episode has taken on significance for Lestrade in particular. He is and was and will always be a honest, hardworking Yarder to the core, but he has an impishness about him, and a slyness that I have grown to love. That big chip he carries around on his shoulder is there as well!
I think Watson brings out the best in Lestrade I have seen him change from a politically minded position climber to a man who genuinely see's the victims and desires justice for them. Watson is a bad influence LOL!
So this story is for all of you guys that say you enjoy my Lestrade, I like the chap too so let's watch the old boy work.
Bart
Once again if you need translations they are at the bottom.
thanks!
Doctor John Watson, Police Surgeon: Scotland Yard 4
The Frozen Image
Chapter Three
"Excuse me sir, may I be of assistance?" Lestrade inquired. This was not his first death notification and he knew from experience that informing parents that their children were murdered was the worst, so he steeled himself for the emotions to come.
The man turned to him. "I just want someone to listen to me."
Lestrade nodded for the harried constable to go on about his business, PC Turner gave him a nod of gratitude before making his escape.
With the man's full attention on him, Lestrade could see that the man was much older than he first appeared, of course that could be from watching his daughter eaten away from the inside by an incurable disease.
"Chief Inspector Giles Lestrade," he said, hand held out.
The man grasped it his long fingered hand strong like a vise, tired eyes shining with relief. Giles internally winced that he was about to end that hope. "Aldric Bisset, my daughter's name is Genevieve. We have to find her Chief Inspector, she's stricken with Tuberculosis, it's in the final stages."
Something in Lestrade's eyes queued Mister Bisset to his daughter's fate. "You found her?" He asked, his voice beginning to quaver.
Lestrade nodded, he was already manoeuvring the man to a convenient chair, just as he assumed, Bisset collapsed into it.
"How did she die?"
Lestrade gathered himself."She was murdered, sir, sometime late last night. It was quick and painless; she never felt a thing, so my best man tells me. I trust his word."
His distant confused eyes found Lestrade. "Why murder her, she was dying anyway, that would have been apparent?"
That is a good question...
"The investigation is in it's early stages, sir, we are still looking into the matter. Would you mind coming down to identify the body? It will save us some time."
He nodded, and stood to follow Lestrade, he wobbled just a moment, but then the natural dignity Lestrade had first seen in him reasserted, he squared his shoulders and met Lestrade's eyes with resolve. "Lead the way."
They made their way down into the depths of Scotland Yard, he could hear an argument before he reached the common room.
"There is no risk, no expulsion from the lungs means the disease is no longer an issue."
"I do not agree, zis disease is ztill a mystery, otherwise there would be a cure, were ze mask, dat iz an ordeur!"
"You wear the blasted thing if believe in it so much."
"Your immune zystem is compromised; you know zis, wear ze mask."
Lestrade cleared his throat as he entered to see Watson and St. Cloud standing toe to toe. Even in his weakened condition, the Doctor was not backing down from the larger man. Both were flushed with anger, St Cloud had the mask in question dangling in his hand.
"We have a visitor, gentlemen, Mister Aldric Bisset, I believe him to be the father," Lestrade informed them in a tone thick with warning.
Get a hold on yourselves gentlemen, we are professionals of the Yard.
"Of course, right zis way," St. Cloud replied. Doctor Watson's weary eyes showed his depth of compassion for the man as Lestrade led him past. The other inspectors immediately found things to do so the man did not feel a spectacle.
They entered the largest dissection bay available. She was lying on the bier, looking just as fragile and heart wrenchingly angelic as before, even under the harsh gaslight.
"That is her. That is my Genny. Ma belle fille, qu'ont-ils fait pour vous?" 1.
St. Cloud started when he heard his native tongue spoken. "Je suis très désolé pour votre perte. Vous êtes huguenote?" 2.
Bisset met his gaze, the comfort he found in the language was clear.
"Oui, deux générations de distance." 3.
Lestrade smiled. I guess it's time to finally show my hand.
There had been multiple times over the years that St. Cloud spoke French in his presence thinking that Giles had no knowledge. He did not know that Lestrade's paternal grandparents never bothered to learn English, and Giles had never bothered to disabuse him of that erroneous notion.
'Je vous laisse parler. S'il vous plaît venez me trouver quand vous aurez franchi. Encore une fois, mes sympathies Mister Bisset," he remarked in a pitch perfect accent. 4.
He nodded to the two men enjoying the look of complete shock on St. Cloud's face wishing the situation would allow him to be smug.
He exited to see that the activity he had left had come to a halt. Mayweather had somehow found the only corner out of the way, he saw with some satisfaction that Gregson had not returned.
Watson was sitting on the edge of a desk. "Was it his daughter?"
Lestrade nodded. "Genevieve Bisset, her family called her Genny."
"Genny," Watson mused.
One of the things that Lestrade admired most about his friend was that the man never saw a corpse, just a person's body, a distinction that not all willingly made. It was this determination to humanize and maintain dignity for the departed that gave him the edge over the other coroners, but it also meant that the deaths carried far more weight for the man. It took strength of character and will to refuse to become jaded by the sights a Yarder must endure, but even the strongest man must eventually become immured, for the sake of their own sanity.
They waited quietly for the two men to come out.
When they did exit, Bisset had red-rimmed eyes, and even St. Cloud had the air of sadness.
Watson moved to shake Bisset's hand, the gentleman sensing his inability to move to close the gap, walked forward and grasped the hand offered.
"I am sorry for your loss, Mister Bisset. Would you be so kind as to tell me about your daughter?"
Bisset smiled. "You are Doctor Watson, are you not?"
Watson looked a bit taken aback, but recovered graciously, "Yes I am."
The man nodded to himself. "Genevieve was a collector of the Strand magazine, she loved your stories, and she wept when your friend died. You have my sympathies as well, both for your friend, and your wife."
Watson acknowledged the man's kind words with a nod of his head. "I noticed your daughter's clothing had lace that was hand sewn, the quality was astonishing, she learned from her ancestry no doubt?"
A fond smile touched Bisset's lips as he nodded. "She had the cleverest fingers, even among a family of seamstresses and sewers. Her favourite things to sew were christening gowns for the little ones, even though she would never have..."
Bisset paused, attempting to regain his composure.
"If this is too hard for you, sir..." Watson began, the look on his face showing his own pain for the man's plight.
"No...no, I can do this, my daughter was brave, so must I be," he replied, squaring his shoulders.
"Her christening gowns were well known all over England, they were highly sought by the upper class," he continued, "we soaked them in a camphor, vinegar solution before washing, at Genny's insistence, no little one would ever be afflicted if she could prevent it."
He managed to smile at Watson."She would have insisted you wear that mask, by the way, small risk was still a risk to her, and we all wore them at her insistence."
Watson nodded. "I will do so, in her honour."
He nodded. "She never missed church; she sat as far back as she could, and stayed until her coughing became disruptive, all her friends abandoned her, but she never once blamed them."
His eyes flashed with a deep-seated anger, revealing that indeed he did.
"How did she catch, Mister Bisset," Watson asked.
"She volunteered in a charity ward, one of the elder patients suffered from it; she refused to leave her side, all the way til the ladies death. Her family abandoned her, but Genny would not."
Bradstreet stepped forward."Mister Bisset, I feel I must say the words of Christ into this moment, Greater love hath no man, or woman, than this, that they lay down their life for a friend."
Lestrade was grateful to the big Yarder. They all knew the man was devout in his Methodist faith but he never pressed until asked, somehow that made it more likely to turn to him in time of need.
Bisset smiled, with more than a hint of gratitude. "I must away, my family is still searching. Say a prayer for us."
They all nodded and the man left dignified even in his grief.
He left silence in his wake.
St. Cloud held out a camphor mask to Watson. He snatched from the man's hand with a glare to peel wallpaper.
---
Lestrade had his hands full with paper work, so he left the autopsy to Doctor Watson, and St. Cloud.
He located the file on the Red Tear Stranglings and reviewed the specifics. Hopkins entered; the young inspector was white as a sheet.
"You remember that new filing system I was implementing?"
Lestrade nodded.
With no preamble, Hopkins laid a stack of files on Lestrade's desk."These are all of the ligature strangulation murders in London that were committed with some sort of ribbon, all unsolved."
Lestrade looked at the stack of eight. "How did we miss this?"
Hopkins sat down heavily. "They were not all in one place, if you were not directly involved with the investigation you would not have known about them. These go back to inspectors no longer at the Yard. One was killed in the line, another transferred to the country for his health, two others retired, and the other one, was Patterson."
"Patterson?" Lestrade inquired, making sure he heard the name correctly.
Hopkins nodded. "Patterson."
When Sherlock Holmes went after Moriarty, he worked with one inspector, John Patterson. Most knew that the case was a death sentence. Moriarty's reach was vast, but Patterson stayed the course even after the death of Holmes. He used the information Holmes provided to dismantle the rest of the man's criminal empire before taking early retirement. They all visited him, and he stayed in touch, but since the death of his wife two years before that contact had become rare.
"So we are dealing with a man that may or may not have killed thirteen women?" Lestrade finished.
Hopkins nodded.
Lestrade leaned back in his chair. "Glorious."
Mayweather appeared at the door. "Doctor Watson wanted you to know that he and St. Cloud agree that though the method is the same, he believes this latest murderer did not kill the previous victims."
"What makes him think that?" Lestrade demanded.
Mayweather's eyes narrowed for a moment that made Lestrade's heart skip a beat, then he shrugged."I guess you'll have to ask the bloke himself, he just thought you'd want to know as soon as possible."
"He was right, thank him for me," Lestrade said with a sigh. Mayweather nodded, then next moment he was gone.
Hopkins and Lestrade exchanged a look.
"So how do you like Watson's pet assassin?" Hopkins asked in the way of conversation.
"I like that John's protected, but who protects everyone else from his protector?" Lestrade mused.
He glanced up to see a constable at the door. The man had an internal memo in his hand. Lestrade had been anticipating this. He waved the man in.
The constable sensing his dark mood placed the memo on the desk and left as soon as he could manage.
Lestrade opened the letter. He read the quick note. Slapped it down on the desk, followed it quickly by his forehead.
Hopkins looked alarmed. "What's the matter, Giles?"
Lestrade shook his head, rubbing the new sore spot. "I need to talk to Doctor Watson first, gather all the men for a chat.
They got up and left his office, Lestrade crossing to the dissection bay, he did not have to enter as the door opened and a masked St. Cloud supported Watson who was removing his as they walked out.
"I need to know why you think this new murder is the work of someone else, please be brief." Lestrade inquired, making sure to keep his tone even when Watson glanced up.
Watson and St. Cloud exchanged a glance, the older man nodded for him to proceed.
"Two things," Watson began, "the strangulation was far too gentle. According to the coroner's notes on the other five, the larynx was either crushed or bruised. Secondly, he chloroformed her, and strangled her before she revived, that goes against this man's entire pathology. He enjoyed that they struggled, he took pleasure from their knowledge of their predicament. The person that murdered Genny wanted it to be painless. A killer like the one that killed those previous victims does not lose his nerve like this. He would have kept killing until death took him or capture."
Lestrade took that news in stride. "Looks like this war now has two fronts," he remarked.
He handed Watson the note and turned to the Yarders.
"Listen up. We now have two challenges ahead. We need to find this new killer, this accomplice in the next few days. Alister Eads was due to be hanged at the end of this week, that no longer looks likely."
He paused for effect.
"As a matter of fact we now have reason to believe that Eads killed thirteen women instead of five before he was caught."
There was a murmur as the men expressed their shock.
He glanced at Watson to see his friend had sat on the edge of the desk and was rereading the note. He turned back to the assemblage.
"The really interesting news is that there is a group of powerful men and women, ones with connections high up in government who are now calling for Alister's immediate release. They want to study him for some ungodly reasoning, I know not."
He heard Watson stand, quite a feat in his condition. He turned to see the man had a look of steely resolve on his wane face.
"Alister Eads, will make that appointment…" he announced with a certainty that dared contestation.(2)
The rest of the Yarders agreed loudly.
Lestrade saw a smile touch Watson's lips, one that mirrored his own.
Scotland Yard has just declared war.
Story Notes:
(2) Picture is in profile!
Inspector Patterson is the Yarder who Holmes built the case against Moriarty and his gang with, but the man never appeared before or again. He was basically a prop for the Final Problem...maybe because Doyle liked Lestrade too much to risk his health? Who knows?
Translations for French:
1. "That is her. That is my Genny. Ma belle fille, qu'ont-ils fait pour vous?"
Translation: "That is her. That is my Genny. My beautiful girl, what have they done to you? "
2. "Je suis très désolé pour votre perte. Vous êtes huguenote?"
Translation: "I am very sorry for your loss. You are Huguenot?"
3. "Oui, deux générations de distance."
Translation: "Yes, two generations away."
4. 'Je vous laisse parler. S'il vous plaît venez me trouver quand vous aurez franchi. Encore une fois, mes sympathies Mister Bisset,"
Translation: 'I let you speak. Please come and find me when you are through. Again, my sympathies Mister Bisset "
Explanation of Huguenot: The Huguenots were members of the ProtestantReformed Church of France (or French Calvinists) from the sixteenth to the eighteenth centuries. They escaped widespread persecution in France and fled to countries all over the world. There was a large contingent of them that settled in the East End of London in Shoreditch were they established weaving mills and became part of local government.
Bart