Preys and Predators Part 1 Chapter 24

 

24           The escalation of murders

 

Inspector Lestrade knew that his excuses were out of options when the murders took on a new turn. Mass murders were beyond the jurisdiction of the Sergeant. He had to find another excuse to visit Ellen. The last delayed rendezvous caused him an expensive candlelight dinner then.

“Sergeant, please brief me on the scene.” Lestrade did not hide his scorned expression.

“Yes, Sir. The locals discovered the victims late at night. They were on the rooftop of that building. The …...”

“Why late night? Why were they there? The locals?” Lestrade asked.

“It was their rendezvous point for a late drink before they embarked on their work early dawn at the nearby marketplace. They are butchers, traders, and cart pushers. All men.”

“Butchers? Most interesting.” Lestrade continued his frown.

“Yes, but we checked. They are there as a group most nights.” The sergeant looked up his notebook. “As I was saying, the seven victims were there, scattered across the area. They were five men and two women.”

Men? The killings seem to have a twist to them. Initially, it was women and now men.” Lestrade looked at the victims lined up in a row there. “How high are we here on the building?”

“Four levels, sir. And the others are all lower at three levels.” The sergeant preludes the inspector inquiries. “Nice view to the market place adjacent to the River Thames.”

“Most ……” Inspector Lestrade minced his words when he saw Sherlock and Watson had arrived. He must have gotten the news from the copper sent to his house. There was a lady with them.

“Inspector.” Watson greeted the officer while Holmes was crouched looking at the victims. Lestrade saw the lady and offered his right hand.

“Lestrade, London’s best.” The inspector smiled at the lady.

“Mary Reid, Kansas’ Origin.” The lady smiled. A very pleasant smile, which Lestrade did not fail to observe. He had told Holmes many times; he was observant, but the other ridiculed him most times.

“It is an unpleasant scene here, ma'am.”

“Ma’am, Lestrade?” Mary looked at him.

“I do apologize. It was from the Western novels I learned from. The one-dime edition.” Lestrade remarked.

“Oh, those.” Mary smiled. “I have not read them.”

Mary had lied. She does on the exploits of her cousin, the Lone Ranger, mostly exasperated truth, and fiction.

“I get them from a friend.” Lestrade’s friend worked in the Secret Service there. “I get the novels on Wyatt Earp, the Lone Ranger, and...”

“Tell me, Inspector. When were the bodies moved?” Holmes intrusion was most irritating. The inspector looked to the sergeant.

"At... it was after midnight, about three in the morning.” The Sergeant read from his notebook.

“Hmmm...” Holmes into his element, then asked the doctor. “What do you make of the wounds?”

“Let me check.” Doctor Watson approached the lineup of victims. He flipped the cover off the victims and looked at the wounds.

“Mary, you may want to step back.” Holmes was courteous there.

“I am fine, Sherlock.” Mary was more intrigued to have a look at the victims. She approached the doctor and asked him.

“Any bite marks on the neck?”

“None that I can make out of.” Doctor Watson was focused on his examination. “The organs are removed. See the blood trails. They were carried here and from different directions.”

There were the traces of blood on the roof. The trails lead to a unit on the lower level. Lestrade had the door broken down, and what he saw was unbelievable. The building was like any others on the street’ the simple homes of the working class, but the interior décor was of the rich and celebrated. There were the extensively furnished living areas with the shelves stacked with books, the plush divans, and the enamel fireplace; the dining area was with the long table and expensive cutlery. There were four bedrooms with the high pole beds and bidets that rivalled the royal’s preference.

“Inspector, we should maintain the scene pristine and not have your coppers parading here. It will distort the possible evidence that may be there.” Holmes reminded the Inspector.

“Off course.” Lestrade nodded. The unit was restricted to only certain authorized personnel while Holmes did his work. Mary and Watson were allowed in but contained in the library. The reports came in from the investigating personnel.

“We found three bodies in the kitchen, killed in a gruesome manner but not mutilated.”

“They were probably working staff here. I believed two of them were armed guards, and the third was the housekeeper. I read the register of staff.” Holmes explained when he walked past the inspector. “I am going to see the bedrooms.”

“Could this be the works of a vampire?” Lestrade asked.

“Vampires? What in tarnation made you say such a thing?” Doctor Watson overheard that and snapped out. “There are no signs of any bites on the neck. Why do you pre-empt that possibility?”

“Just a hunch, Doctor.” Lestrade replied. It was then that Mycroft arrived.

“Another day for you, Sherlock?” Mycroft passed the brother of his. “You seem to attract dead bodies like flies to the strawberry jam.”

“I do not eat that. I prefer the sweet honey anytime.” Mycroft’ brother was a beekeeper at a small farm outside of London. Mycroft saw the lady and greeted her.

“And good day to you, Missy? I am Mycroft Holmes, brother to Sherlock and extraordinaire gentlemen here. I work for the departments... of occupational hazards.”

“Sir.” Lestrade snapped to attention before Mycroft. “Everything is under control...”

“Carry on, my good man.” Mycroft turned towards Doctor Watson. “Any signs of bites?”

“Bites? What is with all of you?” The doctor was upset at that fascination.

“I was... bitten this morning. Badly, I will say.” Mycroft mumbled. It was an exaggeration of Mycroft, but the briefing by his superior did feel that way.

Across the roof, in another unit by the open window, Colonel Moran lowered his binoculars. It was a farewell gift of his regiment when he retired then. On the set was engraved ‘Best shooter in the Regiment’.

“I cannot tell what they are discussing, but Missy Reid is there.” Colonel Moran spoke to the one seated on the chair there. The gentleman was dressed in the tweeds and had on a bowler hat on his lap. The gentleman was with a thick Walrus moustache—a thick and bushy bold one sized up his rounded face with the thick sideburns to complement—reclining headline with the hair trimmed short. Like his face, his body frame was rounded, more to the obese dimensions, but his manners were royal.

“Missy Reid? Mary Reid, you meant.” The seated man voiced out in the hoarse voice. “She is here on my invitation, albeit redirected by her uncle on my behalf. How is Moriarty?”

“On holidays, my Lord. He is up on the north and then to Russia.”

“I liked his impeccable planned trips to avoid any links back to him. Naturally, he knew of the murders, yet he evaded the responsibilities there.”

“Responsibilities, my Lord?” Colonel Moran asked.

“Yes, responsibilities. He is also the Lord here in the city, and with the terrors reported, do you think he should act there?”

“Unlikely, my Lord. These are the crimes of a madman, and the organization...

“The organization of Moriarty includes overseeing the crimes here, and that includes knowing who does when and when. As you have stated, it is the works of a mad man or mad men; it is unconclusive. He should act to preserve his organization here. More to it, the government is aware of Mary’s stay here. She may be a target of the department.”

“I am in charge in his absence. I will investigate those murders.” Colonel Moran looked to the other. He must protect Mary at any cost. “It will be done.”

“Good man. Leave no corners unattended.” His Lordship then stood up. “I will leave now. Please keep me updated. If you do send the doctor a message, tell him to avoid any waterfalls. They are dangerous at this time of the year when stepped too near.”