Sherlock Holmes Murder Most Foul (25 page)

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Located close to the major thoroughfare of Aldgate and further surrounded by Mitre Street, Duke Street and St James Place, Mitre Square is some twenty-four square yards in size, considerably larger than Dutfield’s Yard, and has three entrances.

From Mitre Street, entry to Mitre Square is gained through a short carriageway, between a picture-frame shop on the right and a tall warehouse on the left.

Furthest from the carriageway, at the other end of the square, is the eastern corner, where Church Passage runs alongside the Great Synagogue into Duke Street. In the northern corner, and dividing two warehouses, an unnamed passageway connects the square to St James Place.

In contrast, the southern corner, to the right of the carriageway and overlooked by the picture-frame shop and an empty house, is dominated by a tall backyard fence topped with metal spikes.

At night, the square is a foreboding place and has only two gas lamps to illuminate its entire area. One is outside the Kearley & Tonge warehouse by the unnamed northern passageway and the other affixed to a wall by Church Passage. Neither of these two lamps are capable of casting any light upon the southern corner.

Apart from 3 Mitre Square, where City Police Constable Richard Pearce resides with his family, the remaining houses in the square are empty. At the rear of 5 Mitre Street, with its tall backyard fence separating it from the southern corner, lives resident caretaker George Clapp, his wife and an elderly nurse who attends to Mrs Clapp. By 1. 30 a.m., all three had been sound asleep, having retired for the night at 11 p. m.

Similarly, Richard Pearce and his family had also been asleep, having retired at the later time of 12. 30 a.m. The only person that had been awake at that particular hour had been George Morris, a night watchman who had been cleaning the ground floor offices of the Kearly & Tonge warehouse, beside the unnamed northern passageway, opposite the southern corner.

At about 1. 30 a.m., some thirty minutes after Catharine had been released from Bishopsgate Police Station and Elizabeth had been found dead in Dutfield’s Yard, City Police Constable Edward Watkins had entered Mitre Square from Mitre Street, seeing and hearing nothing unusual. Turning about, Watkins had then left the square and resumed his beat in Mitre Street.

Five minutes later, Joseph Lawende, a Polish Jew, along with two of his friends, Joseph Levy and Harry Harris, had stepped out of the Imperial Club in Duke Street, opposite the Great Synagogue, which constitutes one side of Church Passage.

As the three companions had sauntered away from the club towards Aldgate, they had seen, sixteen feet away, a man and a woman standing beneath an overhead lantern at the entrance of the passage.

Remaining on the other side of the narrow street and passing the couple, Lawende had noticed that the woman was facing the man with one hand resting upon his chest. The woman and the man were conversing in whispers. Therefore, Lawende had not overheard anything of their conversation. Dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief, the man had worn a dark brown billycock hat with matching coloured suit. Aged about thirty, he had a chubby face and a trimmed moustache. Five feet seven inches tall and plump, Lawende thought he looked like a clerk.

Some six minutes later, City Police Constable James Harvey had approached Church Passage, seeing neither man nor woman. Entering the passage and walking its entire length, he had paused at its end and peered into Mitre Square. The darkened southern corner had lain directly in front of him but he had not seen or heard anything out of the ordinary.

Turning about, he had retraced his route back along the passage into Duke Street, whereupon he had entered Aldgate. Almost four minutes later, City Police Constable Watkins had again entered the square from Mitre Street.

Illuminating part of the southern corner with his bulls-eye lantern, Watkins had blanched. Lying prone on the pavement beside the empty house, with her head close to the fence, was the mutilated body of a woman.

Rushing across the cobbled square, Watkins had thrown open the Kearly & Tonge warehouse door and surprised George Morris, sweeping down some steps. Gasping, Watkins had blurted to him, “For God’s sake, mate, come to my assistance.” Morris, a police pensioner himself, had dropped his broom and grabbed a lantern, “What’s the matter?” Watkins had shaken his head distraughtly, “There’s another woman cut to pieces.”

Staying with the body, Watkins had dispatched Morris for help. Dashing out into Mitre Street and then into Aldgate, Morris had blown his whistle, attracting the attention of City Police Constables James Harvey and James Thomas Holland.

At 1. 55 a.m., whilst Holmes and Lestrade were concluding their investigation in Dutfield’s Yard, news of the murder in Mitre Square had reached the ears of Inspector Edward Collard at Bishopsgate Street Police Station.

Telegraphing the startling news through to headquarters at Old Jewry, Collard had sent a constable to fetch the divisional police surgeon, Dr Frederick Brown. Rushing from his office, he had then gone downstairs to Desk Sergeant James Byfield and enquired, “Have you released a woman from custody tonight?” Referring to his ledger, Byfield had replied, “Yes, Mary Ann Kelly.” Angry that the specific orders of Chief Superintendent Major Henry Smith had been flouted, Collard had snapped, “I hope, for your sake, she isn’t the woman murdered in Mitre Square.”

Arriving in the square at 2. 03 a.m., Collard had been met by several policemen and Dr George Sequeira, who had been called out by City Police Constable James Holland eight minutes earlier. Fifteen minutes later, Dr Frederick Brown had arrived and, assisted by Dr Sequeira, had begun an immediate examination of the body, now illuminated by a number of bulls-eye lanterns.

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Clattering noisily through the short carriageway into the square, the hansom cab halts. Hurriedly getting out of the vehicle, Holmes, Lestrade and Halse are confronted by an agitated Collard, “Two in one night. He must be
[274]
in league with the devil.”

Calmly, Holmes rejoins, “When people lose faith in themselves, they invariably turn to God for guidance or, in some cases, the devil. Our murderer is not a supernatural being, but is made of flesh and blood. And, therefore, can be caught.” He politely indicates Lestrade and repeats the introduction he had made to Halse at Dutfield’s Yard, “Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard.”

Collard stares at Lestrade and begins to relax, “I’d be grateful for any assistance, Inspector.”

Aware that he has no authority in the City of London, Lestrade evades the proposal, “I’m not saying Mr Holmes is God Almighty, but I am in his hands.”

Agreeing, Collard nods and then turns to Holmes, “I hope you have a
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strong stomach, Mr Holmes?”

Holmes counters, “In the pursuit of criminals, one learns to be insensitive to many things, Inspector. A defiled corpse being but one.” He indicates Dr Brown and Dr Sequeira, kneeling beside the body, “Shall we proceed, Inspector?”

Holmes, Lestrade and Collard approach Dr Brown, who stands suddenly, shaking his head in disgust, “This is outrageous! How can one human being do this to another? It is atrocious.” He curtly lambasts Holmes, “This woman was not murdered, sir. She was plundered.”

Unruffled by the outburst, Holmes propounds, “Then we agree on one thing, Doctor.”

Taken aback, Brown frowns, “And what is that, sir?”

His attention drawn to the body on the ground, Holmes quietly informs him, “The murderer must be caught, of course.” He looks at Sequeira, “The internal organs? They were found like this?”

Sequeira slowly stands, “Yes, exactly like this.”

Brown sighs tersely, “Must you dwell on the subject, sir?”

Irritated by the inane remark and supporting Holmes, Lestrade snaps at Brown, “This is a murder investigation. Mr Holmes is here by invitation of the City of London Police.”

Dr Sequeira murmurs admiringly, “Sherlock Holmes?”

Staring at Holmes, Brown haughtily cocks his head, “So, sir, you are the meddling amateur?”

Holmes impatiently responds, “I do not wish to cause dissention, Doctor, but if you have finished your examination, kindly allow us to proceed with ours.”

Tetchily turning down the cuffs of his shirt and frock-coat, Brown turns to Collard, “Inform Major Henry James that he shall have my report this afternoon.” Retrieving his medical bag from beside the body, he contemptuously tips his top hat to Holmes and departs.

Seeing the body of the woman for the first time in its entirety, Lestrade baulks, “Good Lord!”

Lying prone upon the pavement with her compressed bonnet at the back of her head, the face of the woman is turned towards her left shoulder. Her arms, which look like they had fallen where they now lay, are extended with the palms of her hands facing up. Her left leg is straight, her right leg is bent at the knee.

Her hair is matted with blood and her face has been savagely mutilated, perhaps in an attempt to expunge her identity. The lobe and auricle of the right ear has been cut off and both the lower eyelids have been nicked. An oblique cut has removed the tip of her nose and an inverted V has been cut into either cheek.

A dreadful cut, six to seven inches in length, has opened her throat. Below this cut and starting an inch and a half below the lobe of the left ear, a superficial wound runs along the throat and terminates three inches below what remains of the right ear.

Her lower garments, apron, skirt and petticoat are raised above her abdomen. Her intestines have been drawn out and placed over her right shoulder. And, as if by design, a detached portion of intestine, two feet long, has also been drawn out and placed on the ground below her left arm, alongside her midriff.

Silently kneeling beside the body, Holmes spots the initials
T. C.
tattooed on the blood spattered left forearm of the woman. He inhales deeply.

Noticing his solemn expression, Lestrade kneels, “Do you know this woman, Mr Holmes?”

Holmes nods slowly, “Dr Watson and I met her at the workhouse infirmary where we examined the body of Mary Ann Nichols. Her name is Eddowes.”

Collard kneels, “Well, that’s a bit of a relief, isn’t it?”

Mystified, Holmes and Lestrade both stare at him.

Collard imparts, “We released a woman from Bishopsgate Street Police Station over an hour ago.” He indicates the body, “Thought it might be her, but the woman we let go was Mary Ann Kelly.”

Lestrade retorts, “It probably hasn’t occurred to you yet that the woman laying here might be Mary Ann Kelly? Eddowes most likely gave you a false name. Her type always does.”

Confronted by the inevitable truth, Collard stands, dumbstruck.

Holmes gazes up at Sequeira, “At what time did she die?”

Sequeira muses, “Approximately forty minutes ago.”

Producing his pocket watch, Holmes opens its cover and stares at the time, “After half past one, Doctor?”

Sequeira nods, “About twenty minutes to two, yes.”

Holmes snaps the cover shut, “Was she asphyxiated?”

Lestrade pricks up his ears.

Sequeira crouches, “The slight spillage of blood about the body suggests that was the case.”

Holmes indicates the superficial throat injury, “Now, this is very important, Doctor. In your opinion, was this wound inflicted before, or after, the savage incision to the throat?”

Sequeira is emphatic, “Most definitely before.”

Holmes smiles, “Because after would have served no purpose?”

Sequeira replies, “Precisely.”

Holmes eagerly turns to Lestrade, “Proof again that the fairer sex failed to deliver the decisive cut.”

Lestrade frowns, “So, it was this sort of medical evidence that first prompted the idea there had to be a woman accomplice?”

Holmes nods in agreement, “Yes, but I utterly failed to convince Watson of the rationale.”

Lestrade sighs, “I can understand that, Mr Holmes. I’m still trying to digest the idea myself.” He stares at the body, “And what else will this mess tell us?”

Holmes turns to Sequeira again, “Are any of the internal organs missing?”

Sequeira answers, “The left kidney and part of the womb were removed and taken away.”

Appalled, Lestrade groans.

Solicitously pulling down the lower garments of the woman and covering her exposed abdomen, Holmes reveals that one corner of her apron has been cut away. He looks at Lestrade enquiringly, “Why do you suppose he did that?”

Lestrade perks up, “To wrap the organs in?”

Holmes nods approvingly, “A reasonable assumption, Lestrade.” He gently turns the head of the woman, so that Lestrade can see her face, “Now, look at her face and tell me what you see.”

Lestrade studies the grotesque wounds upon the face, “What am I looking for, exactly?”

Holmes earnestly informs him, “The initial of the surname which is used by the murderer to distinguish his atrocities.”

Intrigued by the exposition, Sequeira stands and intently stares down at the face of the woman.