The Frankenstein Murders (11 page)

The magistrate looked much relieved, and in his relief he began to resemble a great deal more the man described by Victor Frankenstein. As I had surmised, Magistrate Kirwin had either forgotten or perhaps not yet received Sir Arthur Gray's letter. I had every hope the initial confusion was over and that I could begin to get some practical information.

“Yes, yes of course, Henry Clerval's murder; I've got it here in a letter.” The magistrate began to rummage around in a tall but orderly pile of papers upon his desk, but never did a letter actually appear.

I asked him if he found the idea that I might have been sent by Alphonse Frankenstein astonishing.

“Why now, faith, I know nothing of the matter,” the magistrate said, looking more at ease than I suspected he felt. “But Mr. Alphonse Frankenstein did seem quite eager to settle everything up at the time, and so it would be natural to find it odd
that he should send someone to reinvestigate. Alphonse Frankenstein found the criminal charges against his son a vexation, and mentioned it many times. To be sure, it caused such a great deal of sorrow for the family. I am certain it was his wish to forget it all. He is dead now you say?”

I informed him that Alphonse Frankenstein lived long enough to see his eldest son married, but the young bride was murdered on her wedding night; Victor Frankenstein himself died while travelling in the frozen north.

“I am truly sorry to hear that. Why, now this is a little too much. He was a fine man.” The magistrate said with genuine sincerity. “We had the opportunity, due to the ill health of his son, to spend a great deal of time together. He is, he was, a great man who filled, I know, many honourable public situations in Geneva. Mr. Alphonse Frankenstein and I were much of a same mind on a number of issues, which is not so surprising considering our respective roles in our cities. He was even so kind as to honour me by being my guest at family supper on more than one occasion.”

I wanted to ask the magistrate a few more questions related to the murder of Henry Clerval and the arrest of Victor Frankenstein, and I said so with the specific purpose of guiding the conversation back to the reason I was there.

“Many days have passed since that tragic event, and my memory does not serve me as well as it once did, but I can let you look at my notes. I pride myself on writing all the details here in my ledgers.”

Magistrate Kirwin brought out one of the thick, leather-bound books in which he kept his notes. After a few moments of leafing through the pages, he came to the entries regarding Henry Clerval's murder case. With some degree of apprehension, I moved quickly to the other man's side, eager to learn more of what had happened on the waterfront. My expectations were soon dashed to the ground. The notes were brief, with little more detail than had
been given in the newspaper articles. Sensing my disappointment, indeed I did little to disguise it, the magistrate began to add details not recorded in the ledger.

“Victor Frankenstein was initially suspected as he was far away from his lodgings and found upon the same shore as Henry Clerval's body. Poor Victor went into a two-month fever upon hearing of the death of his friend Henry, and woke in jail. At that time, he was still considered to be the murderer.

“The very morning after Mr. Alphonse Frankenstein arrived in town, he met with Daniel Nugent and the other fishermen. From the witnesses' testimony, it was found that a boat with one man in it pushed off from the shore where Henry Clerval's body was found. The verdict was that there were two men sailing about and Victor Frankenstein was mistaken for the other — the murderer. It was Mr. Alphonse Frankenstein himself who discovered the alibi for his son from the depositions of the fishermen and Mrs. Magee.”

To this, I added Shelaigh Connelly, the witness from the Orkney Islands.

“The witness from the Orkneys. Why yes, with the aid of his father, a witness was discovered who had seen the younger Frankenstein quite distant from where Henry had been murdered, on the Orkney Islands. Since it was too far for Victor to have made it here in time to murder Henry Clerval, he could not have committed the crime. To be sure, Victor Frankenstein was freed immediately. With my help, Mr. Alphonse Frankenstein collected witnesses and arranged his son's defence. We were able to prove that Victor had been in the Orkneys at the time of the murder, and so the grand jury rejected the bill.”

I pointed out that the distance from where we sat to the Orkneys was not inconsiderable. In the hours that Victor Frankenstein spent sailing aimlessly, the body would have cooled considerably, perhaps even progressed into the first stages of rigor mortis. It would seem unlikely that Henry Clerval's body was
abandoned on the shores of Ireland while Victor Frankenstein was still in the Orkneys.

“The grand jury deliberated over the testimony and explanations given in Victor Frankenstein's defence and rejected the bill,” Magistrate Kirwin repeated. “It was a very busy time of year, during the season of the assizes, and the hearing was held in a court nearly a hundred miles away. Alphonse Frankenstein was most grateful to me when the grand jury absolved his son.”

Hoping a different area of questioning might prove more enlightening, I asked if, after the younger Frankenstein's release, other suspects were considered.

“Why now, faith, no, and it has always been a disappointment of mine that we were not able to find the true criminal. Unofficially, I have always maintained a suspicion that it was a case of a robbery, where some villain was interrupted by Daniel Nugent and his friends before being able to finish the job,” he told me as he leaned forward across the desk, as though imparting the greatest of secrets.

I was most interested in anyone else spotted in the area at the same time. I looked again at the magistrate's notes. There were sentences that told of witnesses who deposed that they had spotted a mysterious figure, but the details were unspecific and even contradictory. One testified the figure was short and stocky, another that the figure was large and broad. The only item of true interest was a list of all the objects found on Henry Clerval's body. The list included a pocket watch and a purse with the kind of money one would expect a traveller to carry. This led me to ask if such a list would not suggest that the motive for killing Henry Clerval was not in fact robbery.

“That has never been fully determined. As I said, it is most probable that the sudden and unexpected presence of Daniel Nugent and the rest of the fishermen scared off the murderer.”

I disagreed with the magistrate's conclusion. I explained that I
was investigating the murder of Henry Clerval because there is reliable evidence that his death is closely linked to two other murders. The victims were all known to each other, and in each case the victims were strangled. This would require a fair amount of strength at least in the case of Henry Clerval, who was young and fit and not easily overtaken. In each case, there were no other markings on the bodies, indicating little or no struggle. The murderer was either inhumanly strong or known to his victims, thus able to take them unaware, the element of surprise catching his victims off guard.

“But who would have thought it?” the magistrate said.

As Victor Frankenstein's ravings while he was ill were all in his native language, with which the magistrate was not unfamiliar, I asked if Victor had mentioned anything of these other two murders.

“The young man was not well and seriously distressed at the death of his dear friend. His were just the ravings of a man whose mind was disturbed, and nothing of which to pay any mind. Certainly, I did my best to soothe him. The nurse we engaged to care for him was competent, however lacking in compassion.” The magistrate's hands began to flutter about once more.

I asked the magistrate for the name of the woman who nursed Victor Frankenstein.

“Sarah, Sarah Murtagh,” he said almost breathlessly, while his face took on an expression of wariness. “I shall make arrangements with Daniel Nugent and the others so that you and I may speak with them.”

As my associate, William Moutton, was engaged in that very task at the moment, I demurred at the magistrate's offer.

“What do you expect to find?” he asked in a voice that had become quite sharp. His left hand returned to toying with his waistcoat buttons.

Rather than divulge more information than I had been given, I chose to ignore the magistrate's question. Instead, I thanked him
for his help and requested that I be able to visit with him again, should I have more questions.

“Not at all, not at all. I am always glad to be of service,” he assured me, although his face did not reflect his words. “To be sure, the law must take its course.”

We bade each other a good day, and I was obliged to let myself out of the office and building.

Having been assured by Mutt that Daniel Nugent's home was no more than a mile off, and as it was a clear and almost cloudless day, I decided to undertake the short journey by foot, hoping to be refreshed by the walk. As we approached Daniel Nugent's cottage, we saw a man up a long ladder, repairing the roof. Another man stood at the foot of the ladder. The roof was not the only part of the cottage to receive attention, for a number of improvements were apparent; the walls had not long past received a coat of new paint. Although it was a fine day to be upon the water, lobster baskets were stacked against one wall, along with a few nets very much dry and unused. There was little indication of fishing at this fisherman's home.

Hearing our footsteps, the man Mutt identified as Daniel Nugent turned to stare at us intently as we neared. Only after we had reached the foot of his ladder did Nugent cease his activities and begin to descend. Almost at the same moment, another, younger, man came around the corner of the house carrying a large jug. Staring boldly at Mutt and me for a few moments, the younger man then turned to his friends.

“You said we were done with him! That he would never return to bother us again, that's what you said! What's he doing back here again, then?” the young man demanded.

“Quiet yourself,” Daniel Nugent said harshly. “Take that jug inside as I told you.”

Eyeing Mutt and me again warily, the younger man did as he was told, but with evident mistrust. He soon returned to stand, with arms crossed, throwing surly looks at me. The reaction by the fishermen to my presence confirmed for me a suspicion that had begun to form in my mind while still in the Orkneys. This small incident made the third time that my physical appearance caused evident surprise and discomfited those who had met Victor Frankenstein. I could only surmise that Victor Frankenstein and I shared similarities in height, form, and features; this had to be the cause of these reactions. This would explain the young man's surprise, Magistrate Kirwin's confusion — for truly he had greeted me not so much as if he had expected me, but as if he knew me — and why the Orkney woman believed I was Victor Frankenstein's double come from the land of the dead.

Daniel Nugent had, by this time, descended the ladder and stood with the other two men. Even with the difference in ages, all three men bore a striking resemblance. They were all of an average height, broad across the shoulders, and thick through the chest and arms, with legs slightly bowed. No doubt there were family connections among them. Their bearing and style of dress was also similar, but what was most interesting was the quality and newness of their clothes. For fisherman intent at the time on repairs to a cottage, their clothing showed little sign of wear or the careful reparations that might usually be expected. Instead, their clothes were neat and well-kept, and there was not a patched sleeve, frayed hem, or worn knee to be found on any of them.

My assistant and I made ourselves known to the men, and I provided an explanation of my investigation much as I had for Magistrate Kirwin. The men nodded their comprehension. Daniel Nugent crossed his arms over his chest and his eyes narrowed slightly as he continued to scrutinize us. The youngest man
continued to stand, arms crossed, surly still, as if I were about to take something from him. With an impressive economy of words, Daniel Nugent explained how he had been out fishing with a friend, his son, and brother-in-law. Nugent saw a boat with a single man in it a short distance from the shore. The boat was the same as Victor Frankenstein's.

After finishing his short speech, Daniel Nugent stood still. His eyes had not once met mine. Evidently, we would not be invited into the cottage; likely not even if we asked, which was unfortunate, as I had an interest to see if its contents were newly purchased, as had been the case with the Orkney folk. Instead, I chose to move forward and asked them to take us to the spot where he had found Henry Clerval's body. The other men said nothing, but looked at Daniel Nugent expectantly. With a curt nod, Nugent indicated his agreement and began to walk away from his cottage. Mutt and I followed behind. Not a word was exchanged by our guide during the entire duration of our walk.

The shore was quite mucky, with a great deal of seaweed, twigs, and other refuse thrown up on the sticky sands. With every step, I felt my boots sucked further and further down, until I began to fear they would be pulled off entirely. We came to a creek about two miles below the town. More than a dozen fishing boats were pulled up on the shore. Half were old, but with new rigging and new coats of paint; the rest entirely new. We were taken to the spot where one of Nugent's companions, walking ahead of the rest, had tripped on the body of Henry Clerval.

Henry Clerval's murder occurred on a remote length of shore, with only a lone cottage visible in the distance. At night, there would be no one close to see or hear. Only a person walking by would notice anything amiss, and the presence of the fishermen that night was not a regular occurrence. To think, had they been but a few moments earlier, they would have disrupted the murderer, Henry would still be alive, and his attacker locked up.
But instead, I stood upon the spot where George Clerval's son had been overtaken and murdered.