Chapter 4: Investigating Miss Clara Higby

Wednesday, February 20, 1895

I awoke early and prepared quickly. I thought I would make it to the breakfast table first, but Holmes was already sitting, looking rested and alert, reading The Times.

"I asked Mrs. Hudson for extra eggs and toast, Watson," he said. "I cannot guarantee we will eat a timely lunch, if any, and I know you can get peevish without food. Eat heartily, my friend."

I settled into a generous plate of ham, sausage, beans, eggs, toast and strong coffee. I ate quickly knowing that since Holmes started before me, his natural impatience would soon begin to assert itself. Experience taught me it was best to completely forgo the morning papers and focus on eating while I could. I caught a slight smirk from Holmes as he noted my determined eating.

"Fear not, Watson. Some of those extra eggs will be for me. It's cold enough out there and I expect a good portion of the day will be spent outdoors. Even I can acknowledge the need for feeding the man, and fueling the engine!"

We finished quickly, dressed warmly and got ready to leave. I received a nod of approval from Holmes when I went to my desk, pulled out my Webley and dropped it in my pocket. We both took our heaviest walking sticks. I grabbed the last bite of toast while Holmes went down to call a hansom. It was a cold and cloudy with just enough damp in the air to indicate we would likely be dealing with rain before the day was over.

"Watson, we really need to get to the scene quickly, but the body at the morgue can't wait much longer. Besides, we need to pick up Sergeant Thomas. We may yet need him at the scene, particularly in the event of nosey or overly officious railway personnel. Another pair of eyes will not hurt either."

After that one remark, Holmes withdrew into his thoughts. I knew better than to interrupt while he was so preoccupied. When we got to Scotland Yard, Holmes was ready with the fare and he bounded out quickly, as was his way, leaving me to follow behind at a slower pace. I could already tell that it was going to be an uncomfortable day as cold, damp weather always played hell with my war wounds. 'Needs must,' I reminded myself. By the time I made it inside, Holmes was nowhere to be found. A quick check at the central desk indicated that Holmes had been directed towards inspector Lestrade's office. I walked down the inspectors' hall to the small, shabby, crowded room that served Lestrade as his home away from home. It had been some time since I had been inside and, as always, I was struck by how plain, bleak and utilitarian it looked. Lestrade said years ago that, "They don't pay us to sit around and get comfortable." His attitude showed in the battered desk, worn chairs, and chipped filing cabinets that served as the room's only furnishings. The walls were a pale off-white, unadorned except for two award plaques on the left wall opposite two filing cabinets. There were two gray chairs in front of Lestrade's desk; a third brown folding chair had obviously just been moved in for the purposes of the meeting. Sergeant Thomas and Holmes were already sitting in the gray chairs, while a tall, morose dark-haired man who I knew to be inspector Radisson stood off to the side. "Good morning, Doctor," said Lestrade "It's been a while. You look well. I'll wager the weather is not favoring your leg, so the extra chair is for you." I greeted the two inspectors warmly and gave Thomas a smile and a quick handshake before I sat. Holmes began, impatient not to waste any time.

"Thank you for meeting us, inspectors. I know Sergeant Thomas has brought you up on the latest, so I will not till old ground. Is there anything new to report?"

Lestrade and Radisson indicated, "No." Lestrade leaned forward eager to make a point before Holmes went any further. "I can say that this whole chain of events is seriously starting to ruffle some feathers. Superintendents are watching, and they don't know what to think. Sergeant Thomas is highly respected and you even more so, Mr. Holmes. However, this Clara Higby death and the larger investigation that you are leading, is not going to go far before it starts pulling the wrong chains. On the face of it, Miss Higby's death is undoubtedly a terrible tragedy, - and a mystery - as are all the other deaths, which you believe may be somehow connected. Still, you must see it the way the top brass does. It all comes down to only one question: 'has a crime been committed?' Mysteries are often baffling but unlike you, Holmes, and to a lesser degree, Sergeant Thomas, for the force, unsolved armchair puzzles must yield to the practical, and the here and now. So far there's nothing to indicate foul play or any dark deeds surrounding Miss Higby's death, the death of Miranda Wright, or any of the other railway deaths in recent months. Our higher management is loath to let any crime go uninvestigated and unpunished, yet they are equally wary about, "chasing rainbows and unicorns," as both superintendents Babcock and Carrigan put it. Yard resources are not infinite as you well know. The only thing that has kept this investigation going for as long as it has is Sergeant Thomas' commitment, and the fact that he has managed to do most of the extra work on his own time. I am all for looking in deeper into the death of Miss Higby, but tying her death to a much larger conspiracy is going to take some effort to sustain and justify."

"Holmes agrees that there may well be something significant to look into, even in a wider investigation," the Sergeant said.

"Yes indeed," said Holmes. "Inspector, you know that there are too many coincidences which just don't add up. You have far too much experience for that. You too, Radisson. We are men of experience, one and all. Something is going on here. What, we can't yet know. But the investigation is a worthy one, and definitely worth the effort. Sergeant Thomas has my highest regards for his dedication, well-founded efforts, and diligence so far. This must move forward even if it is done in a lower priority way."

"Well, Holmes your endorsement and your personal ongoing commitment matters a great deal," said Lestrade, even as Radisson grunted his agreement. "Your word carries weight, as you well know. Let's keep it going but keep it quiet for now. If something comes up to connect these deaths, well, that's a different story and we'll cross that bridge if it comes to it."

Having reached a working agreement, Holmes briefly outlined what he wanted to accomplish for the day, which included a visit to the morgue, the accident site, and Bonds. Summary concluded, Holmes, Thomas, and I left Lestrade's office and headed down to the morgue in the basement. Even experienced doctors have no love of public or police morgues, but we get used to them. I often wonder how young, inexperienced constables make the harsh transition. The smell of death and decay constantly warring with the strong chemicals and disinfectants, is a combination not found anywhere else. As we stepped into the cold, dim room, we were met by a lab orderly who immediately recognized the three of us and waved us to a lit table in the far corner. As we moved closer, Holmes stepped up and spoke softly, "Be prepared, old boy. Even for experienced war surgeons as yourself, this one is bad."

We were met at the table by Doctor Anthony Fletcher, a man I knew well and respected both professionally and personally. He was an ex-navy doctor with years of hard-earned military experience followed by a lengthy career as a pathologist. His career in the navy had left him acerbic, blunt, and disinclined to, "deal with whining toffs, or old ladies and their hangnails." As he once confided to me, "The dead don't bark and holler and I've had enough of that in my life already, so here I am. Besides I can do good here." Based on my knowledge of his career, I had to agree.

"Sergeant Thomas, Mr. Holmes, John, nice to see you down in my kingdom although I could well wish this was a social call. This is a bad one as you know. She was a right pretty lass, sure enough, but taking your anger out on a locomotive is no way to conduct your affairs whatever your grievance may be." He stepped up to the table, adjusted the light overhead and pulled the soiled canvas cloth off the top of the body that lay beneath. I was honestly grateful for Holmes and his few words of warning. What lay there was hard to identify as a once pretty, blonde woman. The horrific damage not already done by the train, was not helped by the recently completed postmortem. Her face was left disfigured, her torso broken and twisted, with all her limbs obviously broken, and both skin and flesh abraded along the front and left side of her body.

"Holmes told me he would like to take an additional look, John. I'm not sure what you can find seeing how much damage was done, but I never object to another medical opinion, especially an experienced one. The cause of death, well, that's beyond obvious. The why? your guess is as good as mine."

I took a moment to consider while I removed my jacket and rolled up my sleeves. I gratefully accepted a clean apron and smock from my colleague. Even with my experience, it was going to take a moment to sort out what I was looking at, and what was remotely possible to investigate. Sergeant Thomas was more than happy to step far back, and even Holmes stepped aside, giving me room to walk slowly around the table, offering up his magnifying glass upon request. I carefully examined her face, neck, arms, and hands, for any signs of puncture wounds or subtle injuries preceding all the traumatic damage inflicted by the train. Try as I might, I could find nothing odd or unusual. Careful examination of her hands showed signs of strength; slight calluses indicated extensive time spent washing, cleaning, and handling mops, brooms, or tools. I said as much aloud to the room and continued making statements of both what I found and what I could not find. Sergeant Thomas took notes.

"It is virtually impossible to find a needle or puncture mark on her arms, damage considering. Her inner arms and wrists show no signs of needle wounds or scarring. Her hands show calluses from a lot of prior manual labor, as well as chemical exposure to cleaners with a strong acidic or alkaline base, such as lye. She has done less of such labor recently, and her skin shows that she most likely used lotions and creams to soften and lighten her hands, doubtless to make herself more presentable to her upscale shop customers. She used inexpensive cosmetics, but she had skill in applying them. She was meticulous about her personal hygiene and appearance as her position would require." I looked further for any signs of needles or drug usage. I found no signs of sexual, violent or abusive injuries on her torso or legs, and stated it aloud.

"I see no signs that she was pregnant or has ever been in her past. No needle marks in her feet or toes." I kept looking for at least ten minutes, eliciting Holmes' and Fletcher's help in turning the body over to examine the back. At last, I straightened up, stepped away from the table and sighed, "Sorry gentlemen, that's all I can reasonably report. Anything else would just be unfounded speculation."

"An admirable summation, Watson," said Holmes. "I could not find anything more either, nor I believe did Dr. Fletcher."

"Indeed, John, you did right well. You clearly have done this type of examination before, as I expected," said Fletcher.

"Have the blood, urine, and stomach contents been sent for analysis?" I asked. "I expect that if there is anything unexpected or unusual it's going to be found there."

"Samples of everything have gone to Andrew Mercer and his people," said Fletcher. "Although, I took the liberty of taking additional samples for you, Mr. Holmes, in case you are interested."

"Capital, doctor!" said Holmes. "It's good to get in at the beginning of an investigation for once, instead of months or weeks after events, as the other similar deaths have been."

I carefully cleaned my hands and arms with strong soap Followed by alcohol. After putting my jacket on, we started walking out of the morgue as a group. I thanked Dr. Fletcher for his time and received a copy of his report. Holmes made arrangements to get any and all lab reports when they came back from Mercer, as well as having a lab courier send over the saved samples for Holmes to examine at Baker Street.

Before we left, Holmes asked Fletcher to show me Miss Higby's clothes. "The Sergeant and I have already seen them, Watson, but I want you to see them, especially her shoes, as we will be trying to locate and then backtrack her last few moments near the tracks before reaching the actual collision site. I also want to check one last time for missing buttons, odd fibers, and such." He pulled Miss Higby's plain brown shoes from the bag they were held in. "Note the size shape and wear pattern on the soles, especially the wear on the outer edge of the left heel. We are fortunate that we will be looking for the print of a woman's shoe - and a small foot at that. Ordinarily, there would be no such thing along a track or siding in a remote area. The Yard's buffalo herd of constables certainly churned up the ground at the site, but some distance away we may get lucky."

"What do you hope to find Mr. Holmes?" asked Sergeant Thomas.

"I don't know Sergeant, only that we won't find it if we don't look. Qui diligenter investigat, reddetur ei!"

Sergeant Thomas looked at me quizzically. "Sorry John, my Latin is a bit rusty." I smiled and translated, even as Holmes was already moving quickly across the room towards the door: "He who searches carefully will be rewarded."

We hurried to catch up to Holmes who was already heading outside. By the time we caught up, Holmes was already stepping into a hansom cab, clearly impatient to get to the scene of the incident. I could not blame him for his impatience. The day was now even more cloudy than when we had entered the building about ninety minutes earlier. We were obviously going to be racing the weather. Holmes did not want to lose any clues, and I did not want to be outside in the late winter rain any longer than I had to be. My wounds would not forgive me.

"Sorry Watson, I expect this excursion is not going to do your leg any favors," Holmes said.

"Do not worry about me, Holmes," I replied. "I brought the best stick for the job and dressed accordingly. I will be fine if we don't spend the rest of the entire day hiking for miles."

"I do not think it will come to that my friend," Holmes said.

"Holmes," said Sergeant Thomas, "Dr. Fletcher spoke to me as you were going over Miss Higby's clothes and shoes with Watson. He said you might be a bit disappointed with the lab sample of her stomach. Apparently, it was virtually empty except for liquid, which he surmises is going to test mostly as tea. It had clearly been some time since she ate anything substantial."

"The data is whatever it is, Sergeant," said Holmes. "Remember, let the facts and the data lead. Do not surmise, assume, or even hope for evidence that is not in place. It's a capital mistake to reach conclusions based on faulty missing data, or false hopes. Sometimes, what is missing is as critical as what is present. Such conclusions are one of the three greatest mistakes your colleagues on the force make."

"What are the other top two?" asked Thomas.

"The inability to observe, to do more than just see, and a lack of imagination," replied Holmes. "There are other significant issues, but these top three severely limit what even the most experienced inspectors can accomplish. You are well on your way regarding observation, as well as imagination. Nobody can fault you for your diligence and dedication, or your solid scientific background. You just need to constantly remember that impatience and a rush to judgment will derail even the most solid investigation. You are somewhat fortunate with this series of cases, although it may not seem so. These investigations are teaching you patience if nothing else. Patience is a valuable lesson indeed."

Holmes then grew silent, looking out the window, lost in his thoughts. Thomas was also silent, no doubt pondering Holmes' comments. He clearly was in awe of Holmes and took every lesson from his mentor to heart. I could not help but marvel at the way Holmes so readily gave this brilliant young sergeant his time and attention, as I had never seen Holmes give this type of focus to any other Yarder. Is this what Lestrade, Gregson, Hopkins, and the many other inspectors had missed out on for all these years? It seemed Holmes was far more willing to pass on his skills when the student proved ready and able.

We reached the location closest to the collision site where the cab could go no further. Seargeant Thomas paid the cabbie, and we walked the rest of the way. Our trek took us across a short open area, down a small embankment, and across another open area. The site where we were headed soon became obvious, as an area by the tracks ahead was cordoned off with stakes. When we reached the location, Holmes paused, looking around intently, fixing the larger image in his mind. He then focused more closely on the ground enclosed by the stakes, scowled, and shook his head, disgusted. "A herd of buffalo, gentleman, and a rampaging herd at that. Actual cattle could not have made a more thorough mess of this crime scene."

I could not help but agree. Gravel, ground, weeds, and grass nearby were all tangled beyond any useful value for clues. It was going to be some time before the grass and weeds grew here as before. The Sergeant looked around, glanced at me, and made a face. Obviously, he was somewhat embarrassed by his colleagues' ineptitude. I was glad that Inspector Radisson was not here to receive Holmes' sarcastic comments firsthand.

Holmes quickly gave up on the immediate location and walked very slowly northwards towards the nearby station. We followed behind at some distance, respecting his request that we stay away. He walked very carefully more than three hundred feet up the track, then slowly came back, carefully examining the ground as he went. He occasionally stopped to take a closer look, twice kneeling to inspect some minute detail. When he reached the stakes, he looked around again and then said, "Not that way. She did not come walking down the tracks from the station, although plenty of others did, including a cart and horse. Workers perhaps, and some official types, although mostly workers judging from the footprints. Let's go southwards and see what we can see."

He headed down the tracks, softly muttering to himself, still finding much more disturbance of the ground than he preferred. He started moving even more slowly than we had when north of the scene. Eventually, he stopped entirely, dropping down to examine a spot of ground with his lens. He then moved forward a few steps, looking with his lens again. He gave a grunt of satisfaction. "Got her tracks at last, gentlemen," he said.

We looked down and noticed the smudged but noticeable print of a small shoe. Holmes moved forward carefully, pointing to each print as he found it. Soon the pattern was as clear to us as it was to Holmes. "What can you see from these prints?" Holmes announced. I, knowing his methods, considered the question carefully then looked more closely, knowing there was something else to see. I walked along considering the question further: then I saw it.

"She was running, Holmes. Running fast and hard. Running almost as if her life depended on it." Holmes gave me a quick smile of approval. "Very good, Watson. Why do you say as fast as she could?"

"Because the imprint of the shoe indicates a fast pace, and the length of her stride. She was a small woman, after all - no more than 63 inches I would say."

"Well done, my friend. Do you see it, Sergeant?" Holmes asked.

"I see the running. I confess I did not see the speed."

"Look at the distance between each right footfall or left," I said. "She's a small woman and wearing full skirts as well. The length shows she was virtually bounding, rushing in a full panic. She was possibly running from someone chasing her."

"I agree entirely," said Holmes. "Now let's find the evidence of the chase. We have three tasks. Follow her tracks back to find where she came down here, find her pursuer's tracks, and third, see if either of them dropped some clues along the way. Let's spread out. We are looking for signs of another runner almost certainly a man, as well as signs of where the chase began. All stray objects dropped or lost along the way are important."

We spread out, each about four feet from the others with Holmes still carefully following her footprints. It was a slow process, as Holmes insisted we not get separated. Thomas said his vision and eye for detail at a distance was exceptional. Apparently, Holmes had prior knowledge of this, as he readily agreed. Thomas therefore took the outer position, so he could scan off to the sides as well as in front of him. As we walked Holmes instructions stuck with me, and I bent as low as I comfortably could even as my leg began to protest. I was starting to feel the cold especially in my leg, hands, and on the back of my neck, even though I was wearing a warm scarf. Something about Holmes instructions bothered me. I worked them over in my mind as we walked. Then it hit me.

"Holmes, Sergeant! Her reticule, where is it? Was it not with her effects? Did either of you know if it was recovered at the scene?"

Holmes stopped. "Fair point, Watson. Sergeant?" Thomas shook his head in the negative. Holmes paused to consider.

"Gentlemen, I must add the doctor's missing reticule to our list. In fact, it's very possible, but not certain that it is along our path here somewhere – either directly ahead or off to the side. Thomas, we need your absolute best here!"

"You shall have it, Sir," said Thomas.

We continued our slow, painful progress down the track, heading south. Time passed as we slowly plodded down the path Holmes was able to pick out from Miss Higby's footprints. Our progress was even slower now that Holmes and the Sergeant both stopped to check all debris off to the sides of their direct vision. Holmes also paused frequently to look across multiple tracks on his side, for anything odd or suspicious that might be of interest. The sergeant often called halts to our progress while he darted off to examine anything that looked man-made or out of place.

After forty minutes, Holmes announced that the footprints had changed. They were now much closer together, although they still looked as if they were made by someone in a hurry. Holmes stopped our walking entirely, asking us to wait while he went far off to the sergeant's left looking for any signs of other footprints from a pursuer who chased Miss Higby. He found nothing. We went on for another few minutes until Holmes held up his hand, calling another stop. "The trail is heading away from the tracks. She came in from somewhere ahead. It's going to be a bit harder to follow her progress from here on."

We proceeded onwards for about another three minutes until Thomas called another stop to investigate something off to his left. This time, he gave a shout that he had something. We moved towards him as Thomas came back waving something in his hand.

"Possibly pay dirt!" he cried. Holmes and I both found him holding a small, worn, dark brown reticule. He handed it to Holmes who examined it carefully with his lens. "It has not been outside long, as it is barely weather stained in any way." Holmes opened it and handed Thomas and I the contents to examine further. There was a key, a small coin purse with two shillings three pence, a pencil stub, a tiny cosmetics kit, two handkerchiefs and a small beige envelope such as customers get from a chemist's shop. The envelope was empty, and had, "2xd. ES" written on the flap.

"Have I ever told you how much I hate coincidences?" asked Holmes to no one in particular. "What are the odds of two people under investigation having chemist envelopes with the same markings? We wanted data and now we have it. I assume you can verify what this notation means, Watson?"

"The markings indicate instructions to take a dosage two times daily, on an empty stomach," I said. "Holmes, we really need to learn everything we can from an analysis of Miss Higby's stomach contents – and we need to revisit the lab results from Miss Wright. I suppose we also need to ensure that this reticule is indeed the property of Miss Higby. Perhaps her friends, colleagues, or family members can positively identify the reticule as Miss Higby's."

"Indeed, Watson, all necessary steps. Sergeant, I know it's long after the fact for all the other deaths, but I need anything you can find about pills or medications taken by or found with the other dead women, if at all possible."

"I will start on it as soon as we get back to the Yard," Thomas replied. He was clearly pleased with his find, and the glint in his eyes showed that he was fresh for the chase.

"We are not done yet, gentleman," said Holmes. "We still need to find the second set of foot tracks, and we also need to follow Miss Higby's tracks back to their entry point."

"Holmes, what if there are no other footprints? What if Miss Higby was alone?" I asked.

"It may prove to be that way, Watson, but so far, it's inconclusive. We only get this one opportunity to search, so we must press on until we are sure. Remember, data is data. Let's just follow the evidence"

Our slow progress continued, but this time with a bit more optimism, now that we knew our search was not in vain. Holmes slowly followed the trail of footprints until they led back up the embankment. He was able to pick up the trail across the short open area we had crossed further north until it led back to the street. No second set of footprints was found.

"A useful exercise, but it unfortunately gives us more questions than answers," Holmes said. "Come my friends, we have earned ourselves a cup of tea at least."

We flagged down a cab, and gratefully climbed in. I especially was feeling chilled through. It had started misting shortly before Thomas found the reticule. By now, we were all thoroughly damp, and more than ready to get out of the weather. Holmes gave the cabbie the address of a tea shop near Bonds Sweet Shop. We went in to find the tea shop almost deserted, as it was after the usual time for midday meals, and before afternoon tea. Holmes ordered hot tea and ham and cheese sandwiches for each of us. We ate hungrily without speaking until the sandwiches were gone, and a second pot of tea was on the table.

Holmes eventually broke the silence. "I believe our next step should be the sweet shop to talk to Miss Higby's supervisor and the other employees. Then a stop to search her rooms again would be in order. Do either of you suggest otherwise?"

"Actually," said the sergeant, "I was going to suggest that I head back to the Yard and start the process of all the data gathering you requested. That request is not only going to take time, but it might also require the help of several other smart constables. Being part of your additional discoveries today would be useful, but there's a whole lot of new follow-up work to do."

"Fair enough, Sergeant. There is a lot of new information to track down. Waston and I will hold on to the reticule for now and bring it back to the Yard when we are done with it."

Now that a plan was in place we finished our tea quickly and went outside into a cold rain to call two cabs and go our separate ways. As Holmes and I settled into a hansom for our trip to Bonds, Holmes asked me my opinion of the chemist's envelope. "Watson, I expect my knowledge of poison is equal to or greater than yours, but regarding new pills and medications, I admit I am out of my depth here. Is there any new medication that you know of, even experimental, that can explain even a small amount of what we know or at least suspect?"

"I admit to being as perplexed as you, Holmes. Nothing on the market for common use comes close to this. It goes without saying that even something that is still experimental would not/could not remain in an active trial period. If there is a new drug involved, it is not legitimate, certainly if it has symptoms or an impact like this."

"That's what I thought my friend. This is all speculation at best, but to even consider such a line of investigation is to swim in deep and murky waters indeed. This whole investigation is truly beginning to look worthy of the highest level of focus and attention from everyone, certainly from Scotland Yard. Still, I admit that except for coincidences aplenty, and possible chemical oddities, there's absolutely nothing to go on. Friend Lestrade is right. There's not a vast amount the Metropolitan Police is going to do, unless the questions I put to Sergeant Thomas yield fruit.

Still the day has not been an entire waste we have something we did not have before this morning."

"The reticule?"

"Yes, Watson, but even more importantly, a beginning."