Sherlock
Holmes and 'The Kiss of Death'
Copyright 2005 Peter C. Shumway
Chapter 7 - The Criminal Mind
Sherlock Holmes made a study of the criminal mind. He cared little to understand or even properly interact with people possessing normal ethical values and reasoning abilities. He was impatient with mediocrity and bored with the commonplace. Holmes disliked routine life and despised a regulated destiny. He had little use for self-imposed rules and only followed the laws of England when they were logical and fair. There were several cases, dealing in matters not well covered by conventional law, in which Holmes superseded the courts and let fate be a higher judge.
After Holmes and Watson made the long journey back to Baker Street, they freshened up and put on dry clothes. It was a cool evening so they started a fire before having dinner. Although the hour was getting late, Mrs. Hudson was kind enough to bring them a hot plate of sliced beef and a steaming kettle of potato soup. After spending most of the day in the cold swamp, the hot meal was bone warming.
Just as Holmes and Watson were pushing themselves away from the table, Inspector MacDonald and Chief Inspector Hinkerson knocked on the door. The knock was apparently just a formality as Hinkerson opened the door and the two men let themselves in.
"Eating like kings I see," quipped MacDonald.
"Kings do not entertain London Police while they dine," replied Holmes with a smile.
"Merely court jesters I would say," snorted Hinkerson.
Hinkerson was an aggressive man who despised Holmes and constantly attacked his unorthodox methods. The Chief Inspector was a veteran officer and demanded respect from everyone although he never received any from Sherlock Holmes.
"Pray, to what do we owe your uninvited company?" inquired Holmes. Ignoring the Chief Inspector's insults, Holmes reached for his after-dinner pipe.
"You know very well that we are here about the Dartmoor business," replied Hinkerson. "MacDonald tells me you have stuck your nose in the matter. I am here to tell you not to try any of your wild theatrics. The case is closed. I have already notified the newspapers."
"Closed you say. Very interesting Inspector."
"The post-mortem confirmed ye'r theory Holmes," added MacDonald. "The doctor died of acute poisoning."
Hinkerson paced about the room with his arms folded before turning to Holmes.
"After reading Inspector MacDonald's report I decided to interrogate Miss Hart myself," stated the chief inspector. "We spent half the day talking to her. I believe she is innocent. Since there were no signs of foul play at the house or any other people involved, I have decided to rule this case a suicide."
Holmes' mood quickly changed as he stood up, walked over to the fireplace and knocked the ashes out of his pipe. He tried to ignore how good the warmth from the fire felt on his legs.
"Dr. Collins was murdered, gentlemen. And I can assure you it was not committed by Miss Hart."
"Then who killed him?" asked MacDonald.
Holmes took the time to fill his pipe and light it while the two Scotland Yarders waited impatiently. Holmes savored the moment.
"We're waiting Holmes. Who do you think killed Collins?" moaned Hinkerson.
"A man, five feet and nine or ten inches tall, weighing approximately 160 pounds, traveling through the moor on stilts. I can also tell you he has spent much of his life in Australia and is an excellent shot with a blowgun. He is a gifted chemist and is quite intelligent. The murderer is clean-shaven and wears his hair longer than is customary. He dyed his hair black sometime ago for reasons of disguise but it is now back to its normal color of reddish blond. The man is in tremendous physical shape and was at one time quite wealthy. He is probably connected with the entertainment business and may even be a circus clown. He also has a woman accomplice. She is no more than five feet and three inches tall, weighs about 110 pounds and has short red hair. Their footsteps and hair are similar and therefore it is likely they are blood related... brother and sister I imagine."
"That's wonderful Mr. Holmes," exclaimed MacDonald. "How do ye know all this?"
"I retraced his steps through the moor using stilts today. The murderer and his accomplice worked from an area called Canton Marsh. The man started his trek from a point of dry land about seventy yards south from the house. I found their footmarks all over the ground and the walking sticks he used were hid in a nearby pool of water. From Canton Marsh he traveled north through the swamp to Collins's house. After loading a blowgun with a poison dart, he made a loud cry to bring Collins to the window and then shot him. His assistant then screamed every ten minutes to lead him back."
"That accounts for the cries which Miss Hart heard!" elated MacDonald.
Hinkerson stood up and clapped his hands together sarcastically.
"Bravo! Bravo!" mocked the Chief Inspector. "I knew you would hang yourself if given enough rope Holmes." Then he chuckled, "I will inform all my men to keep their eyes open for a blowgun bearing circus clown walking around London on stilts. Let's go Alec."
Hinkerson headed for the door. Holmes ignored him, and walked over to MacDonald.
"Mac, I need you to check the shipment registry at the Liverpool office for all voyages from Australia for the past year. Write down the delivery addresses for all the imported crates which may have contained or concealed snakes," requested Holmes. "I know it is a sizable task but our murderous fiend must be using fresh venom to achieve the potency we are witnessing. He has to be milking live snakes. I suspect the adders were delivered by ship as registered cargo to avoid a Customs inspection," explained Holmes.
Hinkerson stopped in his tracks and quickly turned around.
"Snakes! You want snakes? Go back and look in the swamp young man. Inspector MacDonald is not going to do any leg work for the likes of you!" Then the chief inspector looked down to the floor and shook his head.
"Clowns and snakes. I don't believe it."
Holmes picked up the blowgun from the chemical table and pointed it like a sword at Hinkerson's face.
"Dr. Collins died of a highly toxic solution consisting primarily of the venom from the Australian Death adder," defended Holmes with steady assurance.
"I have heard enough from you," spoke the Chief Inspector as he pushed aside the bamboo stick. Then he turned and walked out of the room. Inspector MacDonald grabbed his hat and walked over to the door. He stopped and turned to Holmes.
"Shipments from the past year," winked the lanky Scotsman as he turned and walked out of the room.
Watson looked at Holmes.
"Hinkerson is not very fond of you."
"It's unfortunate. At least friend MacDonald is still playing along. That list might be our only way of finding this man."
"It doesn't seem likely."
"It's not. By the way, I want to visit Professor Arthur Bell in Norwood to-morrow. According to Miss Hart's testimony, Professor Bell was a colleague of Dr. Collins. Fate is a strange fellow Watson. It happens that Professor Bell is an old friend of mine. He was my anatomy instructor in college and we worked closely together on some of my more civilized experiments."
Holmes set down his pipe, walked across the room and opened his violin case.
"You should meet him Watson."
"I would love to Holmes. I have no other plans for the day."
"Good. For now, let us enjoy the rest of the evening and put all the snakes to sleep." Holmes picked up his violin, tightened the bow and started to play. Watson sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. Sometimes it was so sweet.
Deep inside London's unpretentious out-skirts of Blackwell, the snakes at Brixton Avenue were indeed put to sleep. When the thick, pungent smoke from the chemical wick first entered the large basket the deadly vipers went wild. They thrashed about and struck blindly at the inner walls of the basket in a confused panic. After a minute the strikes slowed to staggered lunges as the snakes flopped around like dazed drunkards. After another minute they could no longer hold up their heads.
The door to the study opened and a woman entered carrying a hot tray covered with a white towel. She set the tray on the table next to the snake basket and removed the towel to expose a steaming glass vial. The smoke from the chemical wick was unbearable so the woman walked over to the window and opened it.
"How can you tolerate this stench?"
"It's not so bad," smiled her brother as he lifted the burning wick from the basket. He set the glowing cloth in a bucket of water, which made a brief hissing sound.
"According to the newspaper, the police have closed the Collins case. You were right. The moor covered our tracks."
"Not quite Sandra. Our stooge reported in a few minutes ago. That busy-body Holmes found my stilts."
"Then we are done?" asked the woman.
"Hardly. Holmes is still in the dark. As long as we have Bennet as our eyes and ears we will stay one step ahead of Holmes."
"I don't like it Charlie. Will Bennet follow your orders?
"He'll do anything for money. The bloke wants to secure his lady friend."
The man put on a pair of surgical gloves, reached into the basket, and gently lifted out one of the fat snakes.
"She's bleeding him dry, God bless her greedy English soul," he continued saying as he propped open the snake's mouth with a small pair of rib spreaders. The woman removed the lid from the sterile dish and set it in front of him on the table.
"Does he know how to keep his mouth shut?" she asked.
"He better," replied her brother as he stretched out the snake's fangs into the vial and began to gently squeeze.
