A Case of Spirits (9 page)

‘Very thoughtful,’ said Thackeray.

‘Yes, it wasn’t till September that I ’eard anything of ’er, and by then Ezekiel was looking as scraggy as ever. When the flunkey found me in the cabman’s shelter I thought my luck was in again. I bowled off round Russell Square and I swear old Ezekiel knew where we was ’eading for and galloped all the way.

‘When we got there, out comes the lady and climbs inside without even looking at the ’orse or me and calls out an address in Notting ’Ill Gate. It don’t make no sense to me, but I know my job, so away we goes. And when we get there it’s a shabby little terraced ’ouse, but out she gets and asks me to come in too. A big woman comes to the door and lets us in without a word. She shows us the parlour and what do you think is there? A baby, Officer, three months old and ’owling fit to burst. “You can pick it up,” says me passenger. “It’s yours. I’ve brought it into the world and provided for it up to now, but I can’t keep it. It wouldn’t be possible for a woman in my position. So it’s yours, cabman. Look after it, won’t you?” I was so surprised, Officer, that I picked it up without a word and do you know it stopped bellowing at once? “There will be money provided regular for its upkeep,” she told me. “Mrs ’Awkins ’ere will take care of it by day until it’s old enough to join you on the cab, but you must collect it every night. It will need to know its father. Be good enough not to get in touch with me after today. The baby’s name is Peter, and you’d better treat ’im kinder than that unfortunate ’orse of yours, or Mrs ’Awkins will fetch in the law.” And I could see by the way the fat woman wagged ’er ’ead at me that she didn’t like the look of me at all.’

‘What a facer!’ said Thackeray. ‘What did you do?’

‘Exactly what they wanted. I took the child and brought it up, as I’ve told you. As soon as it was old enough I told ’Awkins ’er services wasn’t required no more. Money arrived regular by way of the flunkey until the boy was ten years old and could earn for ’imself.’

‘What work did you put him to?’ asked Thackeray.

‘Glimming, at first.’

‘What’s that?’

‘That’s ’olding cab doors open for passengers, to save the cabby from getting off ’is box. You must ’ave seen the boys along the rank stretching their arms across the cab wheels to stop the ladies’ dresses from getting soiled. It’s worth a copper or two most times. ’E done that for about a year, and then ’e went ’is own way. I ’ad it in mind to get ’im ’prenticed, but ’e can’t read or write, you see, and there wasn’t no openings. I believe ’e sold newspapers for a while and then ’e got a job as bellboy in one of them new ’otels in The Strand. Later ’e got in with the turf mob. I saw ’im one afternoon the summer before last at Epsom working the three card trick and ’e was looking as dapper as ever I’d seen ’im, with a grey bowler and a check suit and that silver watch I told you about. You don’t suppose—’

‘We’re leaving the watch out of it,’ said Thackeray firmly. ‘Tell me, Mr Brand, did you ever meet the boy’s mother again?’

‘Never to speak to, although I’ve seen ’er once or twice in cabs. She moved out of Russell Square a long while back and I’m not sure where she went.’

‘Did your son ever meet his mother?’

‘Not while ’e was a boy, Officer, but I rather think it might ’ave crossed ’is mind last year to try and find ’er.

When I saw ’im that afternoon on the race-course we talked about old times over a glass of ale—we was on very good terms, you see—and, seeing that ’e was now a man of the world, I told ’im the story I’ve just told you. Up to then ’e’d always believed ’is ma died of cholera. ’E seemed uncommon pleased to learn she was still alive, and asked me the number of the ’ouse in Russell Square. Of course I told ’im it was no good going there now because she’s long since moved. I suppose ’e might ’ave called and found out the new address, but lately ’e’s been very busy with the spirits and I ’aven’t spoken to ’im since that afternoon at Epsom. If you ask me, I don’t reckon ’e got much of a welcome from ’er if ’e did find the place where she lives. She don’t want to be reminded of us, I’m sure of that. Well, Officer, that’s my story and I’ve rambled on for long enough.’ He put his pipe in his pocket and struggled out of the arm-chair. ‘I’ll just ’elp you look through that chest of drawers and then I’m on my way. I work from the Charing Cross rank these days. You can always find me there if anything worth ’aving turns up.’

‘It ain’t so simple as that,’ Thackeray explained. ‘He might have made a will.’

‘Couldn’t write,’ said Brand Senior.

‘Well, his mother has the right to claim some of his possessions.’

This was a thought that had not occurred to the cabman. After a moment’s reflection he shook his head. ‘She’s not going to come forward after all this time. She’s in clover already. She’s got no use for silver watches and check suits.’ He opened the drawers one by one and passed his hand rapidly between the layers of socks and shirts. ‘But if she wants any of this stuff she’s welcome to it.’

‘You didn’t mention her name,’ said Thackeray.

‘No I did n’t. One thing you learn in my occupation, Officer, is to be careful over names. There’s passengers that like to be recognised and there’s those that don’t. Most times it’s best to keep off names, so I never asked ’er what it was.’

‘But you found it out, surely?’

‘That’s another matter. If I did, all the cab ’orses I’ve ever owned wouldn’t drag it out of me.’

‘Perhaps this would,’ suggested Thackeray on an inspiration. He plunged his hand in his pocket—and came out with four sixpences and a halfpenny. ‘I could get some more by this afternoon,’ he added lamely.

‘I’ll believe that when I see it,’ muttered the cabman as he started downstairs.

Thackeray stood where he was, looking bleakly at the five coins in his palm. He would have cheerfully have given a pound of his own money to have got that name and dumbfounded Cribb for once in his career. With a sigh he put the money back in his pocket, took out his notebook and started making the list of Peter Brand’s possessions.

How would you treat such possibilities?

Would not you, prompt, investigate the case . . . ?

‘You know me for the last person in the world to discourage initiative,’ Jowett was saying. ‘My word, yes, I can claim with some pride that my record in assigning responsibility to the lower ranks is second to none in the Force. Consider, Sergeant, how often I have put you in charge of a murder inquiry, given you your head, so to speak, whilst I for my part have been content to take only that unobtrusive interest in events which you are entitled to expect from your superior. And of course you have always known that you can look in this direction for the support, the wisdom, the inspiration, the shaft of light that makes everything clear when all is darkest. I do not deny that there have been times when I was tempted to join you at the scene of a crime, to exercise my powers of deduction again, and with a few modest observations render hours of painstaking interrogation and inquiry unnecessary. My place is here, however, in this office, overseeing not one investigation alone, but up to a dozen simultaneously.’ He tapped the side of his head with the mouth-piece of his pipe. ‘This is the repository of sufficient information to bring sleepless nights to some of the blackest fiends in criminal London, Cribb. Yes, indeed, the Director cannot spare me to ferret out particular offenders. I am here to take the longer view.’ To emphasise his point the inspector got up, walked to the window, cleaned a small section of it with the end of his thumb and peered out.

Cribb remained where he was, staring at the blank wall ahead, taking the shorter view appropriate to his rank.

‘The other evening, however,’ Jowett continued, ‘a situation arose in which I was thrust willy-nilly into the investigation of a death in mysterious circumstances, upon a social occasion, among acquaintances for the most part unaware of my official position until I was compelled to declare it. Your unheralded arrival in Dr Probert’s library made it quite impossible for me to remain in the room without revealing my connection with the Yard, but I do not blame you for that, Sergeant. You were pursuing an important suspect at the time. No, what concerns me about the events of Saturday evening was the manner in which you conducted yourself after the discovery of Mr Brand’s death.’

Cribb frowned. What was Jowett complaining about— disrespect for the dead, intimidation of witnesses or ungenteel language? He was ready to admit them all. It was the only way with Jowett.

‘I am not used to being brushed aside by anyone, Cribb, least of all a sergeant in my own command, but that is what happened the other evening, and in a private home, in polite company. I had not managed to articulate half-a-dozen questions before you started upon your theories about electricity, not to mention the advice to Dr Probert on the supervision of his domestic staff. It was acutely embarrassing, Sergeant, and tantamount to insubordination.’

Not only did Cribb’s toes twitch; his knees jerked. ‘Insubordination, sir?’

‘Insubordination,’ repeated Jowett, still looking out of the window. ‘An officer of my rank expects to question witnesses without being interrupted by a detective-sergeant. The circumstances, I concede, were a little irregular, so on this occasion I may decide not to write a report to the Director, but be in no doubt that such conduct will not be countenanced a second time. Besides—’ he turned from the window with a petulant look in his eye ‘—
I
could have thought of all those questions myself.’

‘And wrapped ’em up in better words, sir,’ said Cribb, quick to see the opening. ‘I went quite beyond myself on Saturday, sir. Got carried away. Didn’t realise you were wanting to do things in your own way. I’ll hold myself in check in future.’

It earned him a grudging nod from Jowett. ‘Very well, Cribb. Let us hopefully consider this matter closed. Do you know why I asked you to report to the Yard this afternoon?’

‘For a parley about Mr Brand’s death, I would guess, sir.’

Jowett shook his head. ‘A
conference,
Sergeant, a conference. This is a modern detective force, not the Bow Street Runners. Yes, I have invited two other gentlemen to attend: Mr Cage, who is an authority on electrical matters and has been examining the apparatus at Richmond, and Dr Benjamin, the police surgeon, who attended the
post mortem
examination conducted by the Home Office Pathologist this morning. The official report will be issued later, of course, but Dr Benjamin should be able to tell us the salient points this afternoon. Now be so good as to call in Constable Thackeray.’

Were it not for its location, the conference might have been taken for another seance. Jowett actually sat with his hands palm downwards on the table, but that was from vanity; he liked it to be known that he went regularly to a manicurist. Mr Cage, slimly-built and with deep-set pale blue eyes any medium would have envied, was on his left. Dr Benjamin, more conventionally handsome, with a black moustache and a glint in his eye suggesting he was capable of getting in touch, though not perhaps with spirits, sat next to him, opposite Thackeray and Cribb. A clerk waited with pen poised at a desk in the corner of the room.

‘Let us dispense with formalities, gentlemen,’ suggested Jowett. ‘Dr Benjamin, we are all desirous of knowing the results of the
post mortem
examination. Did you ascertain the cause of death?’

Dr Benjamin nodded. It was clear from the way he then produced a box from his pocket (which Thackeray for one moment imagined contained a souvenir of the morning’s work) and took snuff, that he saw no reason to expand upon this response. The information would have to be prised from him.

‘It was not from natural causes, I presume?’ said Jowett.

‘No.’

‘There was a weakness in the heart, we understood.’

‘Confirmed,’ said Dr Benjamin.

‘So that a moderate electric shock would have killed him,’ Jowett continued.

‘Possibly,’ said the doctor.

‘Did you not establish that?’

‘No. Not moderate. Massive.’

At this Mr Cage jerked to life. ‘Massive? Impossible. That apparatus could not have put more than twenty volts through the man. I checked it myself.’

‘Then you’re wrong,’ said Dr Benjamin simply.

‘Wrong?’ repeated Cage as if he had not heard correctly. ‘Perhaps you are not aware that I have given lectures upon electrical theory at the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge and in all the principal capitals of Europe. Dr Probert’s apparatus was incapable of electrocuting a man. I stake my reputation on it.’

Jowett turned to Dr Benjamin, ‘Then what evidence is there that Brand died of a massive electric shock?’

The doctor showed by his expression that he regarded the question as a breach of etiquette. He had named the cause of death; that ought to be enough for a set of policemen. He tersely catalogued the findings. ‘Severe contraction of the muscles, causing several splittings and fractures of the bones. Widespread destruction of tissues, including necrosis of areas of muscle and certain internal organs.’

‘Quite impossible!’ insisted Cage. ‘Injuries on that scale could only have been caused by a force of several hundred volts. I have myself sat in the chair with the power turned on and felt no untoward effects.’

‘The transformer that Dr Probert constructed did provoke some comment,’ said Jowett, with a glance at Cribb. ‘Could it have been faulty, and so transmitted the full current to the chair?’

‘I subjected the transformer to a series of tests in my own laboratory,’ said Cage, ‘and I can assure you that there is no fault in the construction. I shall tell the coroner so on oath. I have science on my side, gentlemen.’

‘I have an electrocuted corpse on mine,’ retorted Dr Benjamin.

Jowett interposed a cough. ‘We appear to have reached an impasse, gentlemen. I do assure you both that your findings are not in doubt. Somehow we have to find an explanation which fits all the evidence, and I begin to suspect that it might be something quite extraordinary. You see, gentlemen, I have the advantage over all of you, in that I was present from the start of the seance that preceded Mr Brand’s death. My fellow-officers here will attest that I have both feet on the ground—I am speaking figuratively, for Heaven’s sake, Thackeray—and I am not given to flights of imagination or hallucinations.’

Cribb, who was determined not to commit himself to anything approaching insubordination, nodded once.

‘But I tell you,’ Jowett went on, ‘that in that seance I saw a spirit hand hovering in the air, a moving, disembodied hand, blue in colour, shining luminously through the darkness. Others saw it as well, and two at least were touched by it. Later, fruit was thrown about the room, overturning a vase of flowers. I did not imagine these things, gentlemen. I am a senior police officer, trained to observe accurately. The things I saw on Saturday night at Dr Probert’s convinced me that this spiritualism, for all its dubious practitioners, is not lightly to be dismissed. If there is such a thing as a genuine medium, Peter Brand was one. On Saturday, however, the spirit he was contacting appeared to be hostile. Oranges, as I mentioned, were flung at one of the sitters.’ Jowett lowered his voice. ‘I hesitate to say this within Scotland Yard itself, but I am almost disposed to think, in the absence of any rational explanation, that the death of Mr Brand was induced by a supernatural agency.’

‘A hostile spirit, do you mean?’ said Cage.

‘If you insist, yes,’ said Jowett. ‘There are unknown forces just as powerful as electricity, we may be sure.’

‘Poppycock!’ said Dr Benjamin.

‘I beg your pardon,’ said Jowett.

‘Supernatural agency be blowed!’ said Dr Benjamin. ‘Brand was a charlatan. Have you never heard of Blue John?’

‘Blue John? He is not known to me.’

‘It’s a substance, not a person.’

‘I am at a loss to understand what you are talking about, Doctor.’

‘That’s obvious. Before the
post mortem
we were asked to pay particular attention to the hands of the deceased. On examination we found a number of minute particles adhering to the surface of the right palm. When we analysed them they proved to be crystals of calcium fluoride, or fluorspar— in layman’s language, Blue John. There is a quick method of identifying the fluoride ion, which we carried out, heating the substance in concentrated sulphuric acid and holding a plate of clear glass over it. The hydrofluoric acid so produced etched the glass, rendering it opaque. Blue John, without a doubt.’

Jowett was still shaking his head. ‘I fail to see—’

Dr Benjamin turned his eyes heavenwards, inviting everyone round the table to share his exasperation at Jowett’s incomprehension. ‘When Blue John is gently heated,’ he said, as if talking to a child, ‘he glows in the dark. Have you not heard of fluorescence? The spirit hand you saw was the medium’s, coated with fluor-spar, which he had warmed at the fire before the seance commenced. And if you don’t believe that establishes Brand as an impostor, you might reflect on the fact that under his normal clothes he was wearing a nightshirt, in the pocket of which we found a small bag of talcum powder. You obviously have a closer acquaintance with the spirits than I, but I believe that people who have encountered them have observed that in their manifested form they have white faces and long, flowing garments.’

Jowett was pale enough to have slipped on a nightshirt himself and caused havoc in the corridors of Scotland Yard. ‘We are—er—deeply in your debt Doctor. This is remarkable information. Greatly to be commended.’

‘We can’t claim much credit,’ said Dr Benjamin. ‘We were acting upon the suggestion contained in a note we received before the
post mortem.
It categorically requested us to examine the palms for Blue John.’

‘Really?’ said Jowett weakly. ‘Did you discover who wrote the note?’

‘It was one of your chaps, or we shouldn’t have acted upon it. A Sergeant Cribb.’

‘My godfathers!’ said Jowett. He turned to look at Cribb, who had seldom felt so uncomfortable.

‘I say, was it you?’ asked Cage. ‘You’re a quiet one, by Jove!’

‘How the devil did you know about Blue John?’ demanded Jowett.

Cribb had pledged himself to keep out of trouble by not saying a word.

‘Speak up, man!’ ordered Jowett.

That made it insubordination to remain silent. ‘I spent a few months in Derbyshire when I was in the army, sir. Blue John is also known as Derbyshire Spar. It’s common there.’

‘Well, you might have had the decency to stop me earlier, when I was talking about supernatural forces. Made me seem a confounded—never mind. This has been most instructive, of course, but it has brought us no nearer to ascertaining how Mr Brand met his death, unless the sergeant has some other information he has been keeping from us.’

Everyone looked in Cribb’s direction. He was acutely conscious of the delicacy of his position. Jowett must on no account be led to suppose that his thunder had been stolen again. ‘No information of any note, sir. Nothing more than a few theories.’

‘We had better hear them,’ said Jowett resignedly. ‘Mine has collapsed, so we may as well put yours to the test.’

‘I’m obliged to you, sir. It seems to me that if the electric chair works perfect now, as Mr Cage has indicated, it couldn’t have been working perfect at the moment Brand was electrocuted. Something must have happened to make it dangerous, something that was put right afterwards. So I’d like to ask Mr Cage if there was any way in which the main current could be made to by-pass the transformer.’

‘Only by disconnecting it and fastening the cable directly to the wires that were attached to the arms of the chair,’ said Cage. ‘Or I suppose another way might be to attach a wire to the positive terminal on the mains side of the transformer and connect it on the other side with one of the trailing wires. In either case it would have to be a deliberate act and it would amount to murder.’