Prompt from Sendai - The concert tickets

The Mystery of the Heffernan Theater

The year 1890 brought many strange and perplexing cases to my good friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Unfortunately, I was unable to take part in many of them. My practice in Paddington and my marriage to Mary had supplanted the adventurous times I had shared with Holmes, but I confess, I missed them. It was a fortunate circumstance that brought us together again. I stopped into Loring's Café for lunch while out on my rounds on the nineteenth of December and as I was going in, Holmes was coming out.

"Watson!" cried he, clearly as delighted as I.

"Holmes!" I said with a smile.

"What are you doing in this part of the city?" Holmes asked, shaking me by the hand.

"Making my rounds," I told him. "Mr. Pettigrew has a bad case of gout. Terrible diet and he won't listen to me. Very stubborn. I suppose you're here on a case, Holmes."

"No," he laughed. "I stopped in for a sandwich and tea."

"Well, would you care for another cup?" I asked hopefully.

"I'll join you, Watson," he replied. "Gladly."

We went into the café and after I placed our order we discussed the usual things old friends do. Mrs. Hudson was well. Mary was happy. Lestrade, Gregson and the others at the Yard we had come to know and call friends over the years were all quite well. Mention of them caused Holmes to frown, however.

"What is it, Holmes?" I asked just as the waiter deposited my meal and our tea.

"Have you been reading the newspapers, Watson?" he asked. "In particular the articles about the as yet unsolved string of murders."

"The Millionaire Murders?" I asked.

"A misnomer, but yes," said he with a nod.

"It has been difficult to overlook them," I said. "One every week. Always on a Monday night."

"Not always." Holmes frowned into his tea. It was plain to see something grave troubled my friend. "The one Monday there was no murder was the twenty first of October."

"Have you an explanation?" I asked.

"I would be interested in hearing what you think, Watson," Holmes said.

"Me?" I was rather surprised. I had not been involved with this case. I hadn't been particularly active in anything to do with detection for quite some time.

"I have found your observations to be quite useful in the past, Doctor," he said with a smile.

That was quite a compliment and I did find the prospect of being involved once again all but irresistible. I said, "Could the criminal have been out of town for some reason? He has been stealing some very expensive items. Perhaps he was taking them to a fence in another city."

"I have agents looking into that," Holmes said. "Anything else?"

"Let me think," said I, playing for time. "The murderer is obviously of a criminal bent. Likely he lives in a very rough part of the city with similarly rough neighbors. Perhaps he was under arrest on some other charge."

"Excellent, Watson," said Holmes with a pleased look in his eyes. "It is a simple solution."

"Now tell me, Holmes, what you think," I said. "Those two possibilities must have occurred to you. What is your explanation?"

"I haven't one," he admitted. "I did think of those possibilities. Another is that our murderer was ill or injured and could not perform the robbery. It has even occurred to me that the home he had selected to burgle was too well guarded. Or there might have been a party at the residence that night. Far too many explanations could be made to fit. That single Monday is important. I am sure of it. What's more, Watson, if I can discover the reason, I can solve this case."

"Aside from their evident wealth, what have the victims in common?" I asked.

"Two of the men were members of the same club," Holmes said. "All of them smoked, but different tobaccos. Three of them are former military men. Six of them regularly attended concerts. Four of them were ardent gamblers. Two were heavily invested in the railroad. Again there are too many instances where their habits crossed over."

"Was Sir Charles one who regularly attended concerts?" I asked.

"Sir Charles Vanderburgh?" asked Holmes. "You knew him?"

"Only in passing," I said. "Mary and I saw him and his wife the Sunday evening before he was killed."

"Really?" Holmes leaned forward. "Where did you see him, Watson?"

"The Heffernan Theater," I said. "The orchestra was playing selections of Bach. You know how Mary enjoys Bach."

"Yes," he said absently, leaning back in his chair. "I wonder…"

"What is it, Holmes?"

"It may be nothing, Watson," he said and rose to his feet. "It could be everything! Can you make arrangements to accompany me to the concert this Sunday?"

"I suppose so, Holmes," I said, smiling. "Mary will be delighted."

"No, Watson," he said and gave me a very intent look. "Your charming wife must not go with us."

"But, Holmes," I began to protest.

"As you love her, Watson, leave her safe at home."

I frowned at him and began to suspect he had concluded something from our conversation.

"Very well, Holmes," I said. "She won't like it."

"I will make it up to her," said he, earnestly. "To you both. Now, you must forgive me. I have some facts to check into before Sunday. I will call round for you Sunday evening after dinner."

Before I could so much as say goodbye Holmes was gone. I finished my meal and tea and then went about my rounds. That evening I described to Mary the strange encounter with my old friend and told her of the promise I had made. She was disappointed that she and I would not be going to the concert together, but then she did something peculiar. She laughed and clapped her hands.

"What is it, Mary?" I asked.

"I don't know, dear," she said, smiling. Her expression turned more serious and she said, "I think, though, that Mr. Holmes has some plan he fears would be dangerous to my safety. You will need to bring your revolver with you and that excellent cane Mr. Holmes gave you for your birthday."

The cane she spoke of was more than a simple stick of wood. Within its shaft was hid a sixteen inch blade of Toledo steel with a needle fine tip. Truly, I had married one in a thousand.

Sunday night came and Holmes picked me up and we went to the Heffernan Theater. We found our seats and I settled back a little uncomfortably. I felt the need to glance around a bit more than usual. Holmes had chosen the seat to my left and the man on my right looked to have been in the military in his younger days. As well dressed as he was, perhaps he had been an officer, but he had more the bearing of an enlisted man. Beyond him was another man of similar characteristics. To Holmes left was a man I recognized from years ago. It took me a moment to place him, and then I remember a stuffed bear Holmes now kept on the shelf in his bedroom. The last time I had seen Harper he had been a lowly sergeant of police. To see him that night I had to wonder if he had inherited a small fortune from a wealthy relative.

For his part Holmes relaxed back in his seat and seemed entirely absorbed in the fine music. The fingers of his left hand twitched, mimicking the movements of the lead violinist. Upon his lips was a thin, satisfied smile.

"I suppose it would be too much to ask what that accomplished, Holmes," I said after the concert was over with.

"Not here, Watson," he said in a low voice. "In the cab. I promise."

And so it was. We took the third cab that came our way and covered ourselves with the blankets provided.

"Now, Watson, to answer you," said Holmes once we were underway. "What our evening has accomplished remains to be seen. However, after our conversation at the café the other day I looked into the record book of the Heffernan Theater. What I found should not have surprised me, but it did. A very pleasant surprise, I must say."

"Holmes, I really am not following you."

"I'm coming to it, Watson," he said and patted my knee. "Bradstreet who has been investigating the murders from the start has been operating under the assumption that the murders were committed at random. The victims selected only for their wealth. For a time I had to agree with him. I was very near giving up on ever catching the fellow. And then you and I bumped into each other and I knew I had the answer."

"Knew?" I asked. "What answer?"

"There was a connection between all of the victims," said Holmes. "And there was a reason there was no murder on the twenty first of October."

"And what was the connection?" I asked.

"The concerts," he said. "I recalled seeing concert tickets on Mr. Harold Emmerling's night table. And I recalled one article in the Gazette mentioning that Mr. Blanchford and his wife had attended a concert prior to his murder. And you told me about poor Sir Charles' attendance of a concert. That gave me nine out of twelve victims whose whereabouts on Sunday night could be traced to the Heffernan Theater."

"And the other three, Holmes?" I asked, suspecting I knew already.

"That was why I took a look at the theater's record book," he said. "All of the victims not only attended concerts there, they were all seated in the five seats we and the constables occupied this evening."

"I recognized Sergeant Harper," I said. "The two men to my right were also constables?"

"Experienced men, Watson," Holmes said. "I chose them for their age and their competence. Common as clay, all three, but not well known in the more exalted circles of society. I took them to Cohan and Dunwood, my haberdashers, and had them fitted by Jacob Cohan himself. Finest tailor in all of London."

"Wait a moment, Holmes," I interrupted. "If the murderer is picking his victims from the people who sit in that row, have you not placed those men in dire danger? Good God, man! Mary!"

"Calm yourself, Watson," Holmes said soothingly. "Mary is in no danger. Nor are the three sergeants. I noted that the people who had those seats on the twentieth of October were not residents of London. They were visiting from Bristol and gave their address as the Mansfield Hotel. I made the same sort of arrangements for you and the sergeants. You recall I know the owner of the Mansfield and he owed me a favor for dealing with that matter of the briefcase and the bonds. He set aside a suite, listing it as occupied by a Dr. Twofork and guests."

"And what about yourself?" I asked. "Were you included among Dr. Twofirk's guests?"

"Of course not, Watson," he all but scoffed. "I gave my true address when reserving the tickets. How else are we supposed to catch the murderer?"

"We?" I asked. "You wish me to be at 221B tomorrow night?"

"Naturally," he replied with a gleam in his eye. "Since it was you who linked the clues together for me, I think it fitting for you to be there when we capture this despicable creature."

"Very well, Holmes," I said. "I shall be there."

"So shall Scotland yard, Watson," he said grimly. "Bradstreet will have two dozen men dispersed in the homes and businesses surrounding 221B. They will be in place before nightfall. I specifically asked the redoubtable Sergeant Harper to hand pick them. If there is a man on the force who knows who can be counted on, I'm sure it is he."

The next evening I was literally closeted away in Mrs. Hudson's linen closet on the landing outside Holmes' flat. Holmes himself was alone. I could hear him playing his violin until late in the evening. Mrs. Hudson had been kind enough to provide me with a reasonably comfortable chair from her kitchen before retiring to her own rooms for the night. She and Billy would be tucked away safely behind locked doors.

Hours passed and the night was getting late when I heard a muffled thump above my head. It was hardly loud enough to disturb a sleeping man and I had to listen very carefully to be sure I had actually heard it. A scraping sound as the attic door opened convinced me that I was not imagining things. I readied my revolver and placed my free hand on the wall next to the door knob so as not to chance rattling it and thereby alerting the killer to my presence.

Looking through the keyhole I saw a dim figure bent low in front of Holmes' door. Very faintly I heard a scratching noise and realized the man was picking Holmes' lock. I was tempted to rush out and brain him with the barrel of my revolver, but Holmes had expressly warned me to wait until he called out for help. Only in that way could the man be arrested on a charge of attempted murder and sent to the gallows. A fate he richly deserved in my opinion.

Finally the intruder opened Holmes' door and slipped in. I waited a moment before opening the closet door and carefully stepping out. I knew the landing well. In the middle where most of the traffic was the boards were loose and if trod upon they would creak or groan. Therefore, I kept to the wall where the boards were well supported. I edged along until I was right outside Holmes' door and held my breath. It seemed a long vigil, but logically I know it could not have been more than a minute. When the time came bedlam broke loose. I heard Holmes cry out and bodies hit the floor. I sprang into the flat and reached to turn up the gas just as a man was flung through Holmes' bedroom door. He rolled to his feet a naked blade in his hand and I took aim. The man froze in place, a startled and angry look on his face. Holmes came from his room with his Indian dagger.

"Vestergaard!" said Holmes. "Albert Vestergaard. The second Violinist."

From below came the sound of both the front and back doors being thrown open and men in boots charging across Mrs. Hudson's hardwood floor and up the stairs.

"Drop that knife," I commanded and cocked back the hammer on my weapon.

"Drop it, Vestergaard," warned Holmes. "There's no escape. By now the building is completely surrounded and there are five officers already in the house."

Vestergaard said something in a language I could not understand and cast down his knife. Inspector Bradstreet and Sergeant Harper came into the flat just then and took the man into custody.

"I'll need you to come down to the station tomorrow and make a statement, Mr. Holmes," Bradstreet said after Harper had taken the murderer away. "I don't really know how I can ever thank you, sir. I really don't."

"Never mind about that, Bradstreet," Holmes said. "This case itself was enough of a reward for me."

The constables and Bradstreet left and after we assured Mrs. Hudson and Billy that we were quite unharmed Holmes invited me to sit and have a brandy with him.

"Holmes, why did you not use your gun?" I asked once we were comfortable.

"I dropped it during the fight in the bedroom," he explained. "That dagger was the most convenient weapon to hand. Excellent work on your part, Watson. You didn't make a sound crossing the landing. And a very timely entrance, too."

"Forgive me for saying so, Holmes," said I, "but it sounded as though you were not particularly surprised to discover your assailant was a member of the orchestra."

"I wasn't, Watson," said he. "Looking at the stage lighting last night I realized the person who was most likely to be able to see the seats we occupied was in the string section and had to be fairly close to the audience. First or second violin would have the clearest view. Also, on the stage they would be at eye level with anyone in those seats."

"Why was that important, Holmes?" I asked and sipped from my snifter.

"The murderer needed to recognize the victim to be sure they had the right house." Holmes contemplated the liquid in his glass. "That is the only reason I can think of, Watson. Perhaps Vestergaard will tell us more when he is questioned."

"It seems he was mad, Holmes," I said. It was a disturbing thought.

"Mad, but there was a method to his madness," Holmes swirled his brandy and looked up at me. "I believe he used the seats as a sort of coin flip, Watson. It provided a randomness to his selection of victims. It worked fairly well to keep the police confused for thirteen weeks. He claimed twelve victims. It was only because you put me onto the concert tickets and seating that I was finally able to devise this trap. London, I think, owes you thanks, dear friend. As do I."

Such praise from Holmes humbled me and I found other things to speak of.

Months later, Vestergaard was hanged for his crimes. Justice was served and good to his word, Holmes made up the lost evening to Mary and myself. He took us out to dinner at Simpson's and then to a concert. I noted there was a new second violinist in the orchestra.

The End