It was the break of dawn at the wet market. The market ground may be covered with filth with the reek stench of the livestocks among the fresh cut flowers stalks, and the polluted air from the smoking chimneys does not deter the early morning crowds. The traders are comes and goes with the the moving omnibus carriage, while the handlers weaved in turns between them bearing crates of fruits and fresh produce. Not a space is spaced for its all would be occupied with people or produce, or maybe a discarded vagrant to sleep his stupor of rum. As said, all types of man and woman mingled here from butchers to thieves, vagabonds to lords’ assistant for their roles and commitments keep this place all alive every dawn. But not this morning as the law has created a space for themselves with the body of one may termed as miscreant of society; blessed be to the rich on his death, but a passing ovation to his own for he is a class of his own. His name is Souther Mathews or he’s best known as Sully Mad; for his vile temper is this trade marks. A killer by many in his account, a thief of many acts, and now a dead man to be investigated by me. I am Allison Saunders; from afar Maine now on the streets of London with my mentor and guardian, Trevor Kantner. Trevor is an extraordinaire man with an extraordinaire works at his best; detective works. He is called on to do the most complicated and yet fulfilling works and most times, never published in the media for fear of repercussions by the parties affected.
As for myself, Allison; I will be darned if you believeth in ma’ story. I am from a 12th Grader from Maine, US of America, and that was in the year 2011. I was tucking myself to a good note sleep on coming back from a trip over the country side with Ken; we did shuck off for a short rendezvous off the trail to take care of his rattle snake, but we came back prim and proper for the finishing line with the rest. As I said I be darned, as next I knewth it, I was walking down the gangplank at the docks of Dover, England in 1869; dressed in a flora print with a fan-front bodice and stitched-down sleeves with the puffy "bells" above the cuff. I was spared of the fishbone bonnet under my long skirts. I was met by Mr Trevor Kantner, who claims to be my long lost Uncle who is now my guardian during my three years of studies here in old foggy London. I tried to protest that I am in a dream but the its was not as I felt the smog heavy air filled up my lungs and brought out the un lady like cough in me. I was usher to his three levels town house unit, of which we occupied the top for better ventilation. But I doubt its so and cost is more of the real reason. The ground unit below ours are occupied by a physician and alienist as he was commonly known as. Its a profession of the psychology then. The next upper unit sits the untidy and unkempt chemist professor whose doorway always reek of some utmost foul stench when I passed by it.
As for the unit of my guardian, Trevor Kantner or shall I refer him as elder Cousin Trevor, we have a decent place to stay with two units of beddings. I was given the smaller of the two and its housed no bigger than my bathroom in ol’Maine. But my explanation to elder Cousin Trevor on my predicament feel on stiff deaf ears.
His exact words to me was ‘Preposterous! Time travel? I think your sea trip has made your mind gone bonkers. I shall have to asked your mum if you are on any medications. Like hallugens?’. If I was, as I did once tried LSD, but I am here I am now sober and I am not from your era. That got him riled and he kept me in the unit for three days looking out the smog clad skylines. It was only on this morning that I got called out. Or was it called in. I can’t be sure.
But it was this morning that everything changed.
“Allie, I have telegraphed your mother, and she has yet to reply. But in the meantime, I need to do my work and this one needed a clerk to write down my thoughts and views. So you be it, but I need to cautioned you that I am a detective and the works of one involved grisly details. So you are a daughter of a field surgeon and medical examiner, I am sure you will not be appalled by the sight of a dead person.” We are in the hansom; a horse carriage cab then running past the London’s streets to destination unknown to me. I heard him and I am familiar with dead corpses as both my parents; real ones are Medical Examiner. I assisted them in cleaning up after their works as they lament of securing good permanent help in our county. As I was watching the passing scenes, I was getting fascinated by the sights of ol’London with the Victorian architectures and tight bodice dressed. I wondered how they can breath in those cages they ensnared around their chest. I felt mine constricted at times when Ken hold me too tight back in Maine. I did tell him off one day, if I would to burst, he will be responsible. That put him off me for a while.
“Allie, you listening in. Or I shall have to put you on the next boat back to Maine.” I looked at the flushed look of my elder cousin. I nodded my acknowledgment and I was be given another tongue lashing. “Young lady, its unbecoming of one like you to sit there shaking your legs without you adding to the Hansom shakes which has already jolted breakfast up to my throat.”
“Oops!” as I straightened my legs under my skirt and tried to sit comfortably like a young lady of 1879.
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“Good morning, Mr.Kantner. Please come with me.” The burly Sargeant of the Police was there to greet us as the hansom stopped at the market. I got up after my cousin and was politely reached out by a gentleman’s hand for me to alight. It belonged to a young gentleman who is probably some years older than myself. He has a clump of red hair on his top covered by the beret he is wearing casually on. His attire is that of a young gentleman with the gray tweeds and matching dark shoes and knee high socks.
“Albert Finney, at your service. I am an apprentice journalist of the ‘The Town Pages’.” I took his hand and disembarked from the hansom.
“The Town Pages? I think I read it before. Its the tabloids...” As I recalled my reading list of periodicals in the last three days.
“A media of fine writings and reports on the going on’s of the London city. There has been scandalous remarks of our reporting but let me assured you that the Town Pages is above repute than some reported in the other media’s.” Mr. Finney is either trying to impress me or he is fishing for information from me. “You are an acquittance of Mr.Kantner. A fine gentlemen but to bring you here on such a lovely morning may not an omission of his conduct.”
“If you are referring to the case he is investigating, I presume not, as I am his assistant. My name is Allison Saunders. I need to be be excused as I can see Mr.Kantner is calling for me.” I gave him a short curtsy and was walking in with the assigned officer to join my cousin. Unfortunately for Mr.Finley, he was prevented from joining us despite his complaints that he is my guests. But I am soon far from the sounds of the words of Mr.Finley who was trying to get my attention to his plight. I caught up with my cousin who was waiting for me at the alley entrance. He was clearly agitated at my delay but his annoyance was smoothen by the insistence of the Sargeant that we go into the alley.
“Sully Mad, it is as I can picked him up any day from any lineup. But I would not mourn his death much less I do not know why the Yard wants you in on the case. Sully to me, is a bad taste in my mouth to mentioned even his name. But here he is now dead as yesterday’s herring.” My cousin Trevor was not keen on the Sargeant comment and was down on his haunches looking at the corpse. He was wearing gloves and checking the dead man’s pocket. Nothing of interest came out of them except some coins and a set of keys. The dead man was obviously shot at the heart at close range but his lips are discolored as a sign of poisoning.
“Allie, do look around for anything that does not belong to this place?” He need not had asked as I was scrumming the sides of the alley for anything out of place. You do find many things in the alley from broken cutlery to discarded pieces of cloth but never crumbs or part of food,as the rats would had eaten them all. But I was to find a dead rat near the sewer pipe opening. Unlike most ladies, rats does not scared me but I am truly fascinated by it. There are some signs of frothing at the mouth of the rodent and hollered to my cousin if he seen any bite marks on the dead man. The answer was no. But he told we will examined more when the body is sent back for autopsy.
“Cut the man up. I dinna think they do that for dead man.” I was amused the Sargeant could hear us in the dingling of the nearby market place noises.
“Autopsy is a new scientific approach. We can tell more of the man when he is dead than he is alive. “ That my cousin for you; straight to the major cut with his words. I can see the Sargeant on the saints to protect him but I doubt they would as the soul of the dead man is long gone up there and what we have is an empty vessel.
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“Good afternoon, Sir Nigel. I trust you are here not for late tea, but to check on your case. Allie, please do offer Sir Nigel a chair. He is after all our guest and you are seated on the only other chair we have.”sir Nigel is a tall scrawny man with a beaked nose which a set of monocle perched on his left eye. I wonder if he does squint to looked with the left. He took my seat without even a courtesy nod or glance at me. If he did glance at me, he won;’t get a peek with my bodice all sewn up,
“Trevor, you do understand the case you are looking at involves the lords and upper society and I cannot expect anyone to speak of it outside this room.” The beaked nose man is looking at me with his glare of a hawk.
“Allie is my assistant and her trust is about the same as mine. If we may, I would like to focus on the dead man’s report. The man was shot after he has died of poisoning. Its a rare poison which we manage to trace; batrachotoxin secreted from the skin glands of the poison dart frog from South America. I would said he was killed by a pin prick that pierced his right forearm. He died of that; I would say quite a high dose of 200 micrograms for his size. The fact that he did not struggle showed that the man could had been tied down when the poison was administered. The bullet that was lodged in his heart was a post postmortem event. But there was something which we discovered in his stomach content. He could had swallowed the item before he was captured.” Cousin Trevor was produced a small aluminum vial from the metal plate on his desk. He was to picked it up but Sir Nigel was faster at that.
“Thank you, Trevor. That is all we need to know. I presume you did not open this vial or tamper with it.” Sir Nigel has gotten up and had pocketed the vial into his vest pocket.
“No, I did not open the vial. But won’t you be keen on the deadman’s cause of death.” Trevor was pointing at his report which he spend six hours on it with the two resident’s of our townhouse.
“No, Trevor. Your usual bill please and we will pay you in full within the week. As always your personal assurance on the secrecy of the matter be maintained. I trust you know the extent of that repercussions should this matter be leaked out.” Sir Nigel has taken his hat and coat to walked to the door.
“Allie, the door please. And good day to you, Sir Nigel.” But Sir Nigel had opened the door and was out even before I could reached the knob.
It was too soon for my cousin’s accomplice to turned themselves up at the door of ours.
“Jolly well we done the autopsy ourselves. So I hear he is glad we found the vial. His neck is on the block if we had not recovered it.” That was Professor Jones, the resident chemical professor who is now leaning on the table while previewing himself of the earlier report. “I say, Peter. How can you spell the name wrong. Its Mather Jones and not Master Jones. I am outraged at this disgraceful act of yours to mis-spell my name. “ Professor Jones is a semi bald, and obese man whose vest stands to hold back his extra pounds rather tightly. His body roundness made up from his lack of height does him make looked like Humpty Dumpy to me. As for Doctor Peter Winch; alienist and physician, his emancipated lanky looks made him more dreary to stand out as Dr.Frankenstein on a long diet of love and fresh air.
“Gentlemen, we done the task and saved the Yard another blush. So we shall rejoice to it. But I can hear the heavy boots of the Sargeant now. So shall we clear the unpleasantries first. Come in, dear Sargeant.” In which time the door was opened to admit in the burly Sargeant who is huffing in his breath on climbing the stairs.
“Mr.Kantner, I presume I can collect the body now. I just saw Sir Nigel leaving the premises and I believed he’s done with it too.” The Sargeant is ever on time to the scene and he knows when its the time to asked and when to be discreet.
“Aye, Sargeant. The body yours and thank you for informing me this morning. Your timely advise was to allow me do some valuable works. As usual, you know the conditions, so I shall not repeat it again. Pray do hurry on the body as its stench is spoiling my late tea. Would you care to join us?”
“Not today, Sir. I am on duty and I am to return this dead man to his proper place. Good day, gentlemen, and to you missy.” The Sargeant had by then instruct his men to collect the body from the ground unit. And he himself made his exit while we were taking our tea.
Another person came knocking and I was the one to opened the door. In came, a fine gentleman wearing the best of the attire befitting the status. He laid his cane and hat to me and marched up to my cousin.
“Mr.Santia, your request is here.” I can see Trevor handling it over to him the piece of paper. Mr.Santia looked at the writing and he smiled.
“Thank you, Mr.Kantner. My people thank you. This account will be used for a good cause and many life’s would be safe. Once again, thank you and I would be on my way. Good day, gentlemen.” Mr.Santia turned to walked out of the room. He did however picked up his cane and hat before giving me a courtesy bow upon leaving the room. I closed the door upon his exit, and walked towards my cousin.
“A fine deed we done today, gentlemen. The Yard is spared of the embarrassment of having the vial recovered and both countries can sit at the same table; as for the gentleman who was just here gets the news he wanted, and a revolution would make history. We do what we are asked but we do not have to hold the same conclusion to the final action. As usual, we are the unsung heroes, but we breached no trust of secrecy as no names were mentioned. Shall we drink to that.” I shared their toasts as the news in the “The Town Pages” wrote on the revolution in Cuba soon to be named as the Ten Year War 1868 to 1879. That same time the news was released, a rich trader from Cuba was seen to return to his country with his recovered wealth. Sir Nigel was confer more accolades on doing some good nation works but no details were provided. As usual its hush hush in the diplomatic fields.
As for the occupants of a town house in central London, we just were just having our tea to having solved a major case of nation theft. You can never tell what the crimes can be committed in the gas lighted London of the late 18th century; but be assured that Trevor Kantner would solved it.
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