Sherlock Holmes and 'The Kiss of Death'
Copyright 2005 Peter C. Shumway

Chapter 10 - Searching for Survivors

To the uninformed bystander Sherlock Holmes would have appeared to be mentally insane and physically out of control. Had the caretaker at St. Mary's cemetery seen Holmes leap into the casket and rip off Menton's head he would most likely have thought the detective to be completely mad. It was an act of desperation. The detective's personal reputation and his professional career were at stake. He had to take immediate and drastic action.

Before the Chief Inspector left the cemetery, he called MacDonald over to the police wagon and talked quietly for a minute or so. Alec MacDonald and the two uniformed men were assigned to work with Holmes on the case. They had to find the remaining members of the research team and warn them of Menton's revenge. It was a search for survivors.

Holmes, Watson, MacDonald and the two uniformed men, Varlander and Fisher, returned to Baker Street. Holmes warned the Scotland Yarders of Menton's marksmanship with a blowgun and informed them of recent developments.

"One aspect of this case of which I am continually reminded," remarked Holmes, "is how well-informed Menton is about his victims. He has not only found where the research team members live but has also acquired knowledge concerning their daily habits; Sir Walter sipped a bowl of soup every evening at six o'clock, Dr. Collins read in his study each night before retiring, and Professor Bell treasured his collection of puzzle-boxes. He would drop all his project work whenever he received a new box from a friend."

Holmes shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked around the room.

"Menton must have found a means to gain personal information about the members of the venom research team. I can tell you first-hand, that the records office at St. Bartholomew does not keep this kind of personal information about their employees."

"I was wonderin who ransacked the hospital library last night," remarked the inspector. "I suppose I should arrest ye when we are done with this Menton fellow."

"You may have to Mr. Mac. I will stop at nothing to end his vengeance."

Holmes walked over to the chemical table and picked up the small puzzle box that Professor Bell had given him. He opened the drawer, turned the box over and let the decayed finger fall into his left hand. He handed it to MacDonald.

"Examine this finger gentlemen. Notice in particular the rough edges where it was torn from the hand."

MacDonald winced at the grotesque evidence. Varlander and Fisher peeked over the inspector's shoulder.

"Did ye say it was 'torn' off Mr. Holmes?"

"Yes, Menton brutally ripped his dead wife's finger from her hand. It reveals something of the character of the man we are up against."

MacDonald offered the finger to Varlander and Fisher. Both men immediately waved it off. The inspector then handed the unwanted extremity back to Holmes.

"Vut is our next move?" asked Garth.

Holmes strode over to his desk, put the finger back in its box and picked up the paper strip that Professor Bell had given him. He also picked up two small lithographs and an old photograph of the Mentons that had been torn from a newspaper.

"Here are several pictures of Charles Menton and his sister Sandra. Study them and commit their faces to memory. Note that Sandra's hair is now shorter than when the photograph was taken and they are very capable of disguising themselves."

Holmes offered the photographs to Fisher and handed Bell's list to MacDonald.

"This is a list of the other members of the research team. We must find the people on this list and, if they have not already fallen victim, warn them of Menton's revenge. I have already warned the Austrian, Dr. Stephen Abel, by way of telegram. Mac, I want you and your two men to warn Dr. Nathan Kempler of the London Medical Institute. He did not send a reply to my dispatch. According to the hospital records he lives at 23 Bellview East in Tunbridge Wells. Also there is a Dr. Wilcox Hanner residing somewhere in Birlstone who was the medical examiner at the time. He relocated to Kent after the public scandal of the failed experiments ruined his career. Watson and I will talk to Dr. Brian Sanders. According to hospital records, he is still practicing general medicine at St. Bartholomew. And according to Bell, it was Sanders who kept the daily records during the venom experiments."

Holmes stepped back over to his lab table and picked up his bamboo blowgun. He rolled it reflectively in his fingers as he walked over to the door.

"I did not find Sanders' records about the venom experiments at Barts. He may have thrown the journals out or perhaps he keeps them at his residence. If I can locate those notes, I may find a clue to Menton's whereabouts."

MacDonald and his two men stood up to leave. Holmes held the blowgun across the doorway to delay them.

"Be on your guard men. Menton is extremely clever."

"Don't worry Mr. Holmes, we have him out numbered," replied MacDonald. "Where shall we meet later?"

Sergeant Mike Fisher snapped to attention.

"Perhaps it would be best to meet at Scotland Yard so we can keep Chief Inspector Hinkerson abreast of matters," suggested the young officer.

Holmes rolled his eyes.

"Very well," said he. "After Watson and I talk with Sanders, we will visit the nurse in Greenwich and then we shall meet you at the Yard."

"These English chaps have no respect for the dead Sandra," remarked Charles Menton as he stood in the pouring rain and reviewed the damages at St. Mary's cemetery.

Menton opened the unearthed casket, reached down and picked up the wax head that Holmes had torn off the replica. The police cleanup duty had not yet arrived at the cemetery to rebury the casket.

"They're on to us now Charlie," warned Menton's sister as she peered around nervously from beneath her black umbrella to make sure they were not being watched.

The magician shook his head as he studied the mutilation of the wax nose performed earlier by Holmes.

"It matters little, I am still in control Sandra. It is my performance... they are merely spectators." Menton walked over to a nearby headstone, which sported a granite cross carved on its top. With a violent thrust, the magician impaled the wax head on the stone cross. It was a gruesome exhibit.

"Sherlock Holmes is a fool," stated Menton.

"He should not be underestimated Charlie. He'll see through our plans for the others. He's the most clever man in London."

Menton stepped back and admired his handiwork.

"He is perhaps the second most clever man Sandra. Do not forget it."

The magician walked back over to the open casket, reached in, and pulled out a deck of playing cards. He instinctively riffled the deck, performed a one-handed bridge shuffle and then fanned the deck into a perfect spiral flourish.

"Don't worry about Sherlock Holmes, Sandra. I deal the cards."

Holmes and Watson inquired for Dr. Sanders at the Hospital. Sanders, the doctor who kept the records during the venom experiments, was still engaged at Barts however he was not presently at work. In fact no one had seen him in over a week. They spoke briefly with a very friendly woman receptionist. She had pale white skin, long red hair, and bright blue eyes. The young woman spoke with a slight lisp enslaved by a southern American accent. She flirted openly with Holmes; however, the detective ignored her advances.

The receptionist revealed that Dr. Sanders lived in a modest apartment on Northumberland Ave. A half an hour later they were knocking upon the door. The unpainted walnut door opened slightly and a petite, elderly woman answered.

"Yes, may I help you?"

"Good afternoon Madam. I am Sherlock Holmes and this is my colleague Dr. Watson. We would like to speak with Dr. Sanders if possible."

"Brian is not here and neither is that mistress of his. Good day sir."

She started to close the door.

"Is the woman you speak of in her late thirties, talk with an accent and keep short red hair?" inquired Holmes.

The old woman opened the door again.

"You know Sandra do you? Tell her next time she runs off with my son I'll call the police."

"We are working with Scotland Yard Mrs. Sanders. May we please come in?"

She hesitated for a moment and then opened the door the rest of the way. Holmes and Watson entered the small but tidy flat. The old woman suffered from a hunched back and walked around bent over at the waist. She offered them tea, which they accepted. When she returned from the kitchen with the tray, Watson tried to help her.

"Thank you just the same Dr. Watson, I can manage."

The woman's hands shook terribly as she poured a cup for Holmes. He noticed that several of the cups were recently chipped and deduced that her nervous condition was probably caused by the absence of her son.

"I do not personally know your son's suitor," stated Holmes as he graciously accepted his cup and saucer.

"Sandra Benson is a demon Mr. Holmes. She is just using Brian. For what purpose I have no idea. But mark my words sir, she is not an honest woman."

"When did your son meet Sandra?"

"A couple of months ago she attended a public lecture given by Brian at the hospital. After his talk she showered him with compliments. Brian fell prey to her charms and invited her to dinner that evening. They have been courting ever since. But whenever they are together she asks him the oddest questions about his work and his colleagues from the Hospital. I am suspicious of her Mr. Holmes."

The little woman sighed.

"But he is in love and only sees what he wants to see."

"Does she ask specifically about the venom experiments which your son chronicled a few years ago?"

"Yes, exactly... most of her questions are about that project. She probably wants to drag that whole affair back into the public eye again."

Mrs. Sanders picked up her cup with her wrinkled, spotted hand and took a sip of tea. Then she looked over to Watson as if she had just been enlightened.

"I bet she works for a rag newspaper."

Holmes stood up and walked over to the window facing the street. He could not look the frail woman in the eye.

"I fear for your son's life ma'am."

Mrs. Sanders set down her teacup with an audible clack. Holmes watched the activity in the street as he continued.

"Sandra Benson is actually Sandra Menton, sister of the famous magician Charles Menton the 'Master of Magic'. She is a murderer's accomplice Mrs. Sanders. If you see your son again please warn him and summon us at once."

Holmes turned back around to the poor woman and placed his card upon the tea tray. She was too shocked to speak. She covered her eyes with her hands and cried. Watson placed his hand on her humped shoulder and after a minute or so she gained her composure. Holmes set down his cup and looked into her eyes.

"Can you tell me if your son keeps any hospital records here in the apartment?"

"There is an old wooden box in the bottom of the hall closet."

The little woman stood up, shuffled over to the closet, opened the door and pointed to the wooden box. It was an old shipping crate with tiny air holes and the words 'LABORATORY MICE' stamped across it. From the shipping label it was evident the box had been sent to the hospital's research lab several years ago. The box was too heavy for her to move so Holmes lugged it out of the closet and set it in the centre of the room.

Mrs. Sanders opened the box, gasped, and then fell to the floor in a dead faint. Watson leaped to her aid. Holmes peered inside the battered crate. It was completely empty, except for a decayed woman's hand with one finger missing.

About thirty miles southeast from Holmes and Watson, Inspector MacDonald slowly opened a large tin soapbox, which Dr. Kempler had handed him. The lanky red-headed Scotland Yarder squinted at its contents.

"Ye say this came in the post two days ago?

"Yes, it arrived the day before last," replied Dr. Kempler. "I assumed it to be a distasteful joke of some sort."

Dr. Nathan Kempler was big, heavy-set man. He was completely bald and sported a bushy black beard streaked with grey. The doctor appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties and wore thick-lensed, wire-framed spectacles. He listened attentively as MacDonald told him of the others who fell victim to Menton's poisonous revenge.

"Ye life is in immediate danger sir. Ye should leave presently and stay in hiding until we capture this Menton fellow."

MacDonald handed the tin box to Varlander. Fisher looked on as the Swede opened it. A hideous, half-corroded woman's foot lay peacefully inside.

Dr. Kempler walked over to his desk and pulled out a Colt service revolver from the top drawer.

"I can take care of myself Inspector. I will run from no one. You policemen are wasting my time. Now it is time for you to leave."

The obese man led his visitors to the front door.

MacDonald looked incredulously at his companions and then shook his head.

"Do as ye will sir but until we apprehend this fellow ye'r life is at risk. I will post me two men outside the house tonight. It would also be a first-rate idea to keep ye'r windows and doors closed and locked at all times."

"I will hide from no one and I do not want your men anywhere near my house Inspector. I told you that you are wasting your time and infringing upon my privacy," snorted Kempler.

"I don't think ye understand how dangerous this Menton fellow is."

"And you don't understand how dangerous I am. If you or any of your men get too close to my house again I will be inclined to shoot you."

MacDonald thought about getting into a brawl with the offensive man but decided an altercation was not in the best interest of the case.

"We officials at the Criminal Investigation Department are used to better manners from people whose necks we are tryin to save. Good day sir."

MacDonald, Fisher, and Varlander left the man standing in his front door and went outside. Kempler slammed the door shut. The Scotland Yarders looked thoughtfully around the grounds in spite of Kempler's threats of bodily harm.

"Mike, ye take the road over there by them bushes." "Keep out of sight and stay alert. Check with Varlander here every two hours."

MacDonald turned to Varlander.

"Garth, ye set up out back of the house by the garden. Like I told Mike, keep out of sight. We don't want Kempler taking any shots at us but more important, we don't want Menton to see us if he shows up. I will be back in the mornin with fresh recruits."

"What do we do if we see Menton?" asked Fisher.

MacDonald turned back around and looked the sergeant straight in the eye.

"Shoot the bloody fiend."

Back in London, Holmes and Watson revived Mrs. Sanders. Watson gave her a mild sedative and made sure she was comfortable before they left. They took the crate with the decayed hand and secured it at Baker Street. Then they headed for the Greenwich Home for Women. It was the last known residence of Miss Emily Lowerton. According to Professor Bell, she was the attending nurse for Mrs. Menton.

The home for women was a beautiful four-story, old white brick building set in the centre of town. Holmes and Watson walked up the to the door and knocked. Watson turned to Holmes.

"You could have used a little more tact with Mrs. Sanders."

"There was no easy way Watson."

"I suppose she deserves to know her son is in danger of his life," consented Watson.

"Unless I am mistaken, he is already dead," commented Holmes without emotion.

The door opened and a very pleasant landlady in her late sixties greeted them. She had dark gray hair, modest attire and a most friendly manner. After they exchanged introductions, Holmes explained the reason for their visit and warned her of the impending danger. She was not alarmed by the warning and calmly shook her head.

"I do not think you have to worry about an attack on Emily Mr. Holmes. I cannot imagine anyone wanting to harm her. You will see what I mean when you meet her."

The landlady showed the two men up to Miss Lowerton's room. She hesitated before knocking. Turning to her guests, she spoke very quietly.

"Emily had a nervous breakdown a few years ago. Although she is a little mixed up at times, she still helps with all our charity work, and plays bridge every Tuesday night. She is a friend to all who know her. Please be kind."

"Of course madam," assured Holmes.

The landlady knocked gently on the soft pine door before entering. Miss Lowerton, a beautiful, delicate woman in her early thirties with sunny brown hair and fair complexion was running around the room talking to her feather duster.

"Now you just wait a minute. You can't tell me there's a difference between satin and silk sheets. Don't talk to me about moths and butterflies. What? Company? Oh my! Hello? Mrs. Campbell. What do you know of linen? No matter, who are these handsome gentlemen?"

"This is Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson. They would like a word with you."

"A doctor. Well, I'll have you know there is nothing wrong with me."

"I am not here on a medical call," assured Watson.

"Very well," replied Emily. Suddenly she looked around the room and ran over to the fireplace. She fervently shook the grates even though there was no fire and no ashes. Then she turned and walked back to her guests, brushed her hands together, and spoke as if nothing had happened.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?"

Holmes could see in her dark brown eyes the pain and suffering, and the terrible anguish the poor woman had endured during her years of medical service. In contrast to her somber eyes, her smile was warm and her voice was pleasing to the ear. She had a petite frame and wore a simple cotton blouse with a long dark wool skirt. Holmes cleared his throat and smiled.

"You have been to the post and to the children's orphanage this morning I perceive. Could you please tell me Miss Lowerton if you have received any unusual mail today or during the past few weeks?"

"Why of course not. I never get mail do I Mrs. Campbell? Why if I got any at all it would be unusual... shhhhh..."

Miss Lowerton held up a finger to her lips as a gesture to keep silent. Then she ran over to the fireplace again, got down on all fours and looked up the chimney. Holmes walked over to the fireplace and knelt down on the hearth next to the woman.

"May I have a look Miss Lowerton?"

"What are you crazy?" she questioned.

Holmes was at a loss for words. Miss Lowerton stood back up and brushed off her skirt.

"Would you gentlemen like some tea?" she asked turning to Watson.

"No thank you Miss Lowerton," replied the doctor. "We had our afternoon tea a little while ago. Thank you just the same."

"Very well then. Now, how did you know I was at the orphanage this morning Mr. Holmes?"

Holmes finished his inspection of the fireplace, and then he smiled and pointed to the sewing table in the corner of the room.

"I noticed the socks you have been darning are too small for adult feet. And Mrs. Campbell mentioned your generous charity work. I merely made a simple deduction using the available facts. It also appears that you have just begun a new batch. The pile of socks with holes is quite high whereas the darned pile is but two pair. It suggests that your visit with the orphanage was a recent one."

"You are quite the observer Mr. Holmes, however you make too much of socks. They could have been laying around here for days as far as you know."

"Your visit to the post office this morning put you within a block from the orphanage. I simply deduced that you stopped there on the way home."

Emily Lowerton suddenly ran over to her sewing table and picked up a sock, which had fallen to the floor. She whispered something to it and gently set it back upon the table. Then she quickly turned and addressed Holmes.

"And just how do you know I was at the post office?"

"The ink smudge on the bottom of your right palm is typically left when one operates the postage machine."

Holmes turned around and picked up a piece of paper from the fireplace mantel.

"I also noticed this parcel ticket has been stamped with today's date."

Emily Lowerton looked at her palm and chuckled. Watson thought she had a charming laugh. He could tell she was genuinely interested in Holmes' deductive reasoning.

"You are quite right in all respects Mr. Holmes," she conceded. "The postmaster always lets me stamp my own mail."

Emily walked over to Holmes, gracefully took the ticket from his hand and placed it back upon the mantelpiece. Her hands were soft and her touch was gentle.

"I sent a nut bread to my aunt in Norfolk this morning. She is quite old and recovering from a cold and..."

Miss Lowerton ran over to the door and picked up her umbrella from the stand and began speaking to it.

"I told you I would the next time it rains. Mrs. Campbell, would you let me know the next time it is raining?"

"Of course I will Emily," replied the landlady.

Miss Lowerton turned to her guests.

"I love to hold my umbrella out of the window when it rains you see. I makes such as wonderful sound."

"I understand," replied Holmes. "Miss Lowerton, do you remember the venom experiments from a few years ago?"

Emily's face dropped. Her smile instantly vanished and the sparkle in her eyes clouded with tears. She quickly turned, faced the wall and wiped her eyes with her hands. The room was dead silent for what seemed to be a half a minute.

"Are you gentlemen finished?" the landlady finally asked.

"Yes. Thank you Mrs. Campbell," replied Holmes. "Miss Lowerton, thank you for seeing us. I hope I have not upset you too much. You are a fine woman and a fine nurse as well." Holmes nodded to Watson.

"Good day ladies," added Watson as he followed Holmes out of the flat.

It was late afternoon by the time Holmes and Watson arrived at Whitehall Place. Holmes despised Scotland Yard yet Watson sensed his friend was quite pleased to be there in an official capacity.

A junior officer escorted them to the Chief Inspector's office. MacDonald was already relating his day's progress to Hinkerson.

"... and this is the box which Dr. Kempler received two days ago. Well if it isn't Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson."

Hinkerson glanced briefly at the decayed foot and then quickly closed the lid.

"May I have a look?" asked Holmes stepping into the room and reaching for the tin soapbox.

Hinkerson handed it to him. Holmes examined the box, opened the lid, and lifted out the foot. He then took it over to the window to examine it in the light while MacDonald continued with his report.

"Kempler is next on Menton's list alright. That foot matches the decayed finger which was sent to Professor Bell."

"And the rest of the hand," added Watson. "We found a decayed three fingered hand in Dr. Sander's apartment."

Holmes returned the foot to the soapbox and handed it to MacDonald before addressing Hinkerson.

"The foot was torn from the body just as the other body parts were. I am sure you noticed it was separated from the ankle. I have no doubt the matching ankle is the very bone which seasoned Sir Walters' soup. It is unfortunate that you closed the Timms case Chief Inspector," jabbed Holmes.

"Did you speak to Sanders?" asked Hinkerson ignoring Holmes' criticism.

"No," replied Holmes. "I fear Dr. Sanders has already fallen victim. It appears Menton's sister courted him to find information about the other members from the medical research team."

Hinkerson turned to MacDonald.

"I assume you warned Dr. Kempler."

"Yes sir. He is not the friendliest chap I have ever met. But he is armed and I have Fisher and Varlander on watch tonight. I will need two fresh men in the mornin. As far as Dr. Hanner of Birlstone is concerned, we were not able to track him down. I suspect he changed his name and started a new career."

"Very well Inspector. What is your next move?"

"I will be spendin me evening at the Liverpool customs office. As Holmes suggested earlier, there may be a record of an Australian shipment containing death adder snakes. Maybe we can get the fiend's address."

"I seriously doubt the shipment will be listed as 'death adder' snakes," added Holmes. "When you compile a list of possibilities bring them by Baker Street. I would like to have a look at them."

"I'll bring me list around first thing in the mornin Mr. Holmes. Did you talk to the nurse?"

Holmes sighed. Watson answered.

"Miss Lowerton is a sweet lady however she has apparently suffered a complete mental breakdown. She could not bring herself to even think of the experiments."

"Did you warn her of Menton's revenge?" asked Hinkerson.

"We did not have the heart," replied Watson. "With her brain-fever it would not have done any good to try and warn her. She is already suffering from delusional paranoia."

"As a precaution," added Holmes, "we informed the landlady to be watchful however I do not believe Menton will strike Miss Lowerton. Fate has already attained a vengeance against her. I agree with Mr. Mac. It seems Kempler is his next target. All we can do is lay and wait."

"And just what are you going to do in the meantime Mr. Holmes?" asked Hinkerson with a raised brow.

"Keep my neck covered Inspector".

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