Sherlock Holmes: The Shadow From Beyond (5 page)

“I swears dat I ment not to take da bottle, twas just there in me hand when I lost me wits an came along fer da run, twas just an accident.” Cowely was shaking quite a bit now, agitated by the recounting of his tale. Watson put a hand on his shoulder to calm him, Cowely relaxed and continued. “I din’t kill dat man, I would never ‘arm someone else, never. Please believe me.”

The vagrant recounted that after exiting back out through the garden gate he fled down the dirt path and across the field until out of sight of the house. He eventually collapsed at the foot of a tree, and trying desperately to steady his shaking nerves, turned to the bottle for solace. After quickly finishing it off he then must have fallen into a deep slumber from which the group had found and relieved him the next morning.

“Me swear it da truth Missir Holmes, me swear it!!” Cowley’s pleading eyes welled up with tears that spilled down over his dirty cheeks. Watson, again overwhelmed by remorse patted the old man on the back, offered up his handkerchief and spoke soothingly.

“There, there. Don’t worry yourself. Just relax, we’ll clear all this up in no time, you can trust Sherlock Holmes on that one. If anyone can help you it is surely him.”

Holmes noticed the tender gesture offered by his good friend and nodded in agreement.

A quick search of the vagrant’s coat and pant pockets by the police turned up nothing of interest. They then led him to a small cell with a barred window, and placed him upon the cot inside where he sat sobbing lightly. “Cowley shall remain in custody overnight so we can keep an eye on him. We may even offer that old stinker a well needed bath in the morning before giving him breakfast. Afterwards we will attempt further questioning concerning the incident at Professor Harper’s residence.” Lestrade stated as he led Holmes and Watson out of Scotland Yard and back into the glow of the now late afternoon sun. “Hopefully he will fully sober up in that time and provide us a more logical explanation to what occurred, other than that of giant bats and the like of course.”

Correspondence

After returning via police hansom to 221b Baker Street from the Yard, the two friends discussed matters of that morning over tea and biscuits, the strong tobacco from Holmes’ pipe curled slowly through the air like serpents.

“What a mad recount! Stated Watson somewhat flustered. “Obviously the ranting of an old drunk! None of it makes sense whatsoever. Devils in the sky! Winged demons and faerie fire? Balderdash! And although I pity him, that vagrant Cowely may be trying to cover up for an alcohol fuelled burglary gone awry!”

“That old drunk hermit? No friend, in his advanced state of inebriation he could never have inflicted such damage to the house to gain entry, he may have possibly stumbled through the glass doors but evidence proves otherwise. No valuables were taken even though many items of value were on display and could easily have been removed, in fact other than the bottle of port all remained secure, and therefore burglary is not a motive. The final clue is of course the mummified state of Harper’s dead body, of which Cowely, in my opinion, could not have the means to induce. In fact I yet know of no earthly power that could achieve such ends other than the passing of time.” Holmes took another long drag from his pipe before he continued. “No, in conclusion I will have to take some of his tale as truth, and the rest as a bit of drink induced imagination, especially the giant bat creature of which he rants. Although he did show some hesitation in his speech I could find nothing but sincerity in the old man when he insisted that his statement was all truth. At the moment I am at a loss to the motive and the method of this crime Watson. Tomorrow when he is sober and hopefully well washed, we will return to question Cowley in attempt to clear up some of the facts he provided.” Sherlock Holmes then retired to his favorite chair and began to study the pocket journal of Professor Thomas Harper that he had removed from the desk back at the study in Hampstead. He skimmed over the pages quickly; eagle- like eyes darting back and forth over the many entries within. He then turned to the last entry, dated only a few days past, and read.

“I have finally finished research and translation of documents and selections from The Book, for Count Lebda and sent them off with the Ortega manifold from my personal collection of Crusader memorabilia. Difficult work surely, but successful! I have managed to link the relic mentioned in Ortega’s journal as the one referred to as the ‘Eye of the Watcher’ in the Necronomicon, Lebda will be pleased.”

There is a crude pencil drawing of the artifact named in the journal; The Eye of the Watcher. It seemed to be a relic of sorts, circular in nature, featuring a jewel at its center and some ruins and glyphs etched on a metal border around its sides.

After studying the image for a moment Holmes continued to read from the journal; “I was also able to narrow the closest possible gate sites to a few locations within Spain and Germany. Count Lebda should send final payment soon, and I am eager to receive it as it will help fund my next trip to the Middle East (Nov 27), and I so need to get back to the dig site at Ald- akhert before the desert sands devour it once again. We have only just begun to unearth the incredible finds of that lost civilization, finds that may lead to question all we have previously gathered in reference to the origins of life on this planet.”

Holmes set down the journal and removed from his coat the letter and discarded envelope that he had earlier removed from the victims study.

The correspondence is addressed to Professor Thomas Harper and postdated two weeks prior. The writing paper is of high quality with a watermark of Le Brun Papetier slightly visible when held up to the light; it is vanilla in color and thick in tooth. The envelope is of similar make and was most probably purchased as part of a set, one of no little cost; this Lebda has money at least. The script is an artistic flowing affair penned in a deep crimson ink. Holmes took note of the large looping qualities of the characters and the way the author had dotted his i’s, indicating the forceful yet confident demeanor of the writer. Holmes also noted the faint smell of patchouli and tobacco evident upon the paperwork. The return address of this Lebda character is on the envelope, the location of which is the town of Metz, in France.

The contents of the letter are short and to the point:

“Dear Professor Harper:

Thank you for all the help that you have provided us through your translations of ‘The Book’ and your immense knowledge concerning the Christian Crusades.

The Ortega journal entry has been most helpful in attempts to classify and locate the artifact known as the Eye of The Watcher. Some of my group has since been dispatched to acquire it. We appreciate all your efforts in this matter and of course will honor our agreement for compensation.

Be advised that a representative from our group will be greeting you in person, at your residence, with the final payment installment shortly after you receive this letter. Your original documents will also be returned soon after. At that point your services will no longer be necessary to us. Please keep our relationship secret and in the utmost confidence as agreed.

Regards, Count M. A. Lebda

Post Script: You had mentioned in our earlier correspondence that you are an avid collector of items of pagan and occult lore. I am also a collector of sorts and as a further token of my appreciation I ask that you enjoy this ancient necklace, a gift from my personal collection of curios.

I have a few of them and can easily part with one.

Wear it in good health.

L.”

Holmes studied the bends and creases on the envelope again and surmised that they were created by the object described in Lebda’s correspondence, a necklace of sorts which must have been included in the envelope along with the original letter.

Once again the detective picked up the journal and began to read, this time from the beginning. Watson had since fallen asleep in front of the hearth. He snored lightly, the evening paper still held firmly in hand. Holmes looked over to him and smiled, astounded at the good doctor’s ability to fall into slumber even in the midst of performing a task.

It was late and Holmes was also rather tired, but much work was still to be done. He focused his attention back to the contents of Harper’s journal, as he read the smile on his face quickly faded to a scowl.

A Late Night Visitor

Very early the next morning, nearing 3 a.m., the two flat mates were again summoned to Scotland Yard by inspector Lestrade who stood before the robed pair with hands held out apologetically

“Please excuse the early hour gentleman,” he started to explain frantically “But evil wears no timepiece it seems. Cowley has been murdered!”

Holmes had actually still not retired to bed by that hour so was alert upon the call, but Watson was a disheveled mess and needed a handful of cold water to the face to snap himself back to reality. Both quickly bundled themselves up in coat and hat and climbed aboard the police coach that awaited them outside. They sped off into the fog leaving a sleepy eyed and confused Mrs. Hudson peering after them.

Along the bumpy cobblestone ride Lestrade explained that the vagrant Cowley was found dead soon after midnight, killed while still locked inside his cell. A loud crash and high scream had alerted the guards who came rushing over only to find Cowley surely expired, his body in the same state as that of the deceased Professor Harper.

“Still locked in his cell, two floors up? Impossible!” remarked Watson, but Lestrade swore it was true. “Improbable, but true. Wait and see for yourself doctor, the evidence is without question.”

Little was said during the rest of the trip, during which Holmes stared out the window into the inky blackness of night, obviously deep in thought.

Upon entering the small cell area at Scotland Yard, Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson are confronted by similar circumstances as to the crime scene at Harper’s residence.

The vagrant Cowley is dead, and horribly so. His body was propped up against the wall opposite the once barred window, which has since been blown inwards resulting in a large hole in the outer facade. Along with bent steel bars, chunks of plaster from around the window casing litter the cell floor. The blasted space framed another almost full moon night and a cool breeze flowed inward from the gaping aperture. The smell of ancient decay and musk clung thickly to the air, the same scent encountered in Harper’s study the day before.

Watson noted that the corpse is in a physical state identical to that of the deceased professor; extreme dehydration to the point of mummification, as if all life juices had been drained away, accompanied by a rigidity of limbs. In this case the position of Cowley’s arms were held outward, as if trying to ward off some attacker. Once again wide eyes stared back at them from within a frozen countenance of abject terror.

“I had never before encountered such a condition in my entire practice, and now twice within twenty four hours! Madness!” Remarked Watson after tending to the vagrant’s corpse.

“Strip him!” Holmes demanded to the constables who stood nearby with handkerchiefs over their noses to block the nefarious odor. They were not pleased at the detective’s command but did as ordered and soon after there is a pile of dirty clothes heaped besides the shriveled cadaver.

A more thorough examination of Cowley’s property revealed a previously overlooked item, an amulet on a chain that had been hidden in the toe of the transient’s boot.

“Why was this man not searched completely before being brought to his cell?” Holmes fumed as he held up the amulet for all to see. “Who is responsible Lestrade?”

Lestrade looked over to one of the police cadets who shrank back. The cadet looked to his comrades for strength before replying in an embarrassed tone. “Well sir, he’s a grubby one he is. Smelling real bad and dirty and the like. Nobody wanted to touch him sir, especially within those tattered rags he wore. He seemed to have no possessions of interest on him when we first turned out his pockets and looked him over. We had hoped the morning bath would allow us to further examine his clothing after he had removed them himself.”

The Inspector fixed the cadet with a stare that would curdle milk. The rookie quickly averted his gaze away.

Holmes shook his head in contempt and pocketed the amulet as they left the cell. “It seems that Cowley was not as truthful as we’d hoped.” He stated to Watson on the ride back to Baker Street. “For other than making off with the bottle of port, he seems to have yanked this amulet off the dead corpse of Professor Harper before fleeing the scene.”

“That would explain the discoloration and the bruising about his neck.” replied the doctor.

“Exactly! Obviously not wishing to be charged as a burglar, Cowley hid the item in his shoe, and kept his mouth shut about it.”

“But Cowley’s corpse Holmes, the mummified remains! How in blazes?” questioned Watson. “And what of the barred cell window and stone wall, on the second floor and at least twenty feet off the ground? What could have caused such damage at that height? The whole window area was blasted inward! No man could have scaled that surface, it is impossible!”