The Mechanical Messiah (16 page)

am closing the theatre,’ said Commander Case. ‘One public murder was too much. I do not possess sufficient words to express my feelings now that
two
have occurred.’

‘It
is
an unfortunate circumstance,’ said Cameron Bell.

‘Unfortunate circumstance?’
roared the commander. ‘No, sir. That does
not
cover it. Not one little bit.’

The two stood once more in the otherwise deserted foyer of the Electric Alhambra. The time was close to midnight. Tensions had been raised.

‘I would appreciate it very much if you did
not
close the theatre,’ said Cameron Bell. ‘It would impede the course of my inquiries.’

‘Ah,’ said Commander Case. ‘Clearly I have not expressed myself in a manner that you can understand. I do not wish you to make any further inquiries. You are dismissed from the case.

Cameron Bell was clearly rattled by this. Words momentarily failed him. He removed his hat and ran a handkerchief over his naked scalp to mop at sudden perspiration.

‘I have a theory,’ said Cameron Bell, when words returned to him.

‘You always have a theory.’ Commander Case turned his nose up. ‘But I have two men dead on a London stage.’

‘You will not solve these cases without me,’ said Mr Bell. ‘You do not know what I know.’

‘Do you wish to share what you know with me?’

‘Should I do so, would it lead to reinstatement?’

‘No.’ Commander Case folded his arms. ‘It would not.’

Cameron Bell made the saddest of faces. ‘You
are
making a terrible mistake,’ he told the commander. ‘I feel confident that I can break this case within the next few days. And believe you me, we are dealing with something here that is beyond the realms of anything that the Metropolitan Police Force have ever dealt with before.’

‘Oh really?’ said Commander Case in a tone of some sarcasm. ‘A magical mystery is it, then?’

‘Magical?’
asked Cameron Bell. ‘Why would you use such a word?’

‘There seem to be a lot of queer things happening lately. Around and about Whitechapel. There’s been scrawlings on walls. Magical symbols, I’m told. Certain superstitious young bobbies have been getting themselves all in a lather and—’ Commander Case ceased his discourse and then said, ‘Why am I telling
you
this? You are off the case, Bell. If you have any information to offer me, it is your duty as a gentleman of the realm to offer it. Is there anything you wish to say?’

‘You are making a terrible mistake.’

‘Then this conversation is at an end. Kindly leave the premises.’

‘But I have—’ Cameron Bell almost said,
Things that need doing here. A crime scene to investigate.
But he did not. Instead he said, ‘I must then fetch my hat and umbrella. I left them in the apartment of Lord Andrew Ditchfield.’

‘I will have one of my chaps accompany you,’ said Commander Case.

Cameron Bell did
not
retrieve his hat and his umbrella. After all, he
was
wearing a hat and he
was
carrying an umbrella. He did, however, speak with Lord Andrew Ditchfield, sharing with him the appalling news that the Electric Alhambra was to be closed whilst police investigated the two murders. Then making the suggestion that should Lord Andrew continue to employ him in the capacity of personal private investigator, he felt confident that he could solve the cases and have the theatre opened in a very short time.

Lord Andrew Ditchfield had engaged in considerable flustering and flapping around. But he had at least agreed to retain the services of Cameron Bell. Including the ‘incentive bonus’ the private detective suggested might help to grease the cogs of cogitation and ensure an early and satisfying outcome.

Cameron Bell now left the Electric Alhambra.

As he stood before the Music Hall awaiting a hansom cab, he mused upon the doings of the day. It had certainly been
a full
day and he felt he was making some progress. Although he had
not
been expecting Smelly Charlie Belly to go up in a cloud of smoke.

‘Do you think you might assist me, sir?’

Cameron Bell turned at this voice. It was one that he recognised.

‘Oh,’ said Alice Lovell. ‘It is you, Mr Bell. I am thankful for a kindly face in my moment of need.’

‘Moment of need, dear lady?’ asked Cameron Bell.

‘I am moving to new lodgings. I can manage most of my bags, but the kiwi birds as well … It’s rather difficult.’

‘It will be my pleasure to assist you, Miss Lovell.’

The kiwi birds were quiet in their carrying cage.

‘Sleeping?’ asked Cameron Bell as he lugged the weighty cargo through the stage door and out into the gaslit alleyway.

‘Chloroform,’ said Alice Lovell. ‘They make such a fuss otherwise.’

Cameron Bell was now burdened down not only by kiwis, but by hatboxes, carpet bags and Heaven knew what else.

Alice Lovell carried nothing but her handbag and her parasol.

‘Perhaps we might share a hansom,’ she suggested. ‘Oh indeed, fair lady. Oh yes indeed.’

It was all too much for a hansom and so they had to wait for a four-wheeled ‘growler’ to come rolling by. This was one of the new electrically driven horseless carriages, low-slung, high-wheeled and comfortable within. The driver sat before them, working controls and humming a Music Hall tune.

‘We will drop you off first,’ said Cameron Bell. ‘What is the address of your new lodging house?’

‘Ninety-five Carlton Road,’ said Alice Lovell.

‘Oh my dear dead mother,’ said Cameron Bell.

A full moon hung in the sky above and London dreamed in its glow. All seemed to be at peace in the great metropolis. Cameron Bell looked up at the sky, then stole a glance at his travelling companion. She was
so
beautiful. And so near. He could smell her perfume. Her elbow was nearly touching his knee.
If only it could be,
dreamed Cameron Bell.

‘Wasn’t it terrible about Mr Belly?’ Alice’s words broke the spell.

‘Terrible,’ said Cameron Bell.

‘I thought you were supposed to be solving the case.’

‘I was,’ said Cameron Bell. ‘I
am.’

‘I bet no one will want to top the bill tomorrow night.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Cameron Bell. ‘Were you not informed? The theatre is to remain closed whilst the police go about their investigations.’

‘Oh no!’ cried Alice Lovell. ‘Then we shall not be paid.’

‘You
will
be paid,’ said Cameron Bell.

‘Not if we do not perform.’

‘I spoke earlier with Lord Andrew Ditchfield,’ said the private detective. ‘I insisted that the performers must be paid during the time the theatre is closed.’

‘You did?’ asked Alice Lovell. And leaning over she kissed Mr Bell, right on the side of his cheek.

‘I did,’ said Mr Cameron Bell. Who knew full well that he had done nothing of the kind. But concluded that he really
must
tomorrow.

‘You are a wonderful man,’ said Alice Lovell. And she kissed him again.

Cameron Bell blushed rosy pink. And then he said, ‘Dear me.

‘Is something wrong?’ asked Alice Lovell, giving his arm a squeeze.

‘I have just remembered,’ said Cameron Bell. ‘I was supposed to be escorting Mr Merrick back to the London Hospital. But with all the excitement, I left him sitting in the expensive box we occupied together.’

‘Serves him right,’ said Alice Lovell. ‘He is a dreadful man. I went to visit him once in his rooms. It used to be a very fashionable thing to do. He dropped his handkerchief and when I bent down to pick it up, he pinched my bum.’

Cameron Bell fought with hilarity and chewed upon his bottom lip. Perhaps there had been some justice after all this evening.

‘Carlton Road,’ called the driver of the growler.

And Carlton Road it was.

Cameron Bell unloaded the worldly goods of Alice Lovell and paid off the cabbie. ‘I will help you to your lodgings,’ he said. ‘Then I will engage another cab.’

‘You are most kind, Mr Bell.’

‘Oh, do please call me Cameron.’

As Cameron struggled and Alice Lovell tottered lightly in her heels, they approached the theatrical diggings of number ninety-five.

‘You took the room so recently occupied by the now late Harry Hamilton,’ said Cameron Bell as he staggered beneath his load.

‘You really
are
a detective,’ said Alice Lovell. ‘Now we must be very very quiet when we enter the house. We would not want to wake anybody, would we now?’

Nor, suspected Cameron Bell, announce the arrival of a flock of kiwi birds that no landlady in her right mind would ever agree to have upon her premises.

‘I will be mouse-like,’ said the private detective. ‘Which floor is your room upon?’

‘The very top. You can see the two windows up there.’

Cameron Bell peered upwards. ‘So is the room presently unoccupied?’ he asked.

‘There was a portmanteau that a gentleman was to collect. ‘Cameron Bell made a bitter face. He well remembered
that
portmanteau. ‘But no one should be in the room
now?’
he whispered.

‘Not at this time, no.’

‘I saw a flash of light at a window, as of a bullseye lantern. There.’ Cameron Bell, having nothing other to gesture with, gestured with his chin. ‘See it again. Someone is moving about in the room.’

‘Most curious,’ said Alice Lovell.

‘Someone who should not be there,’ whispered Cameron Bell, ‘for otherwise they would have lit the gas mantle.’

‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ said Alice.

Cameron Bell relieved himself of his burdens. ‘Give me the front-door key,’ he said, softly. ‘And please wait here until I return.’

For a heavyset fellow, Mr Cameron Bell could move at times with the delicacy of a Siamese cat. His footfalls on the stairs hardly registered in the silent house. And though he was caused to halt upon the second landing and draw his breath, the journey up was achieved with admirable furtive speed.

He paused before the door he sought, noted a brief flash of light flicker beneath it and engaged upon an inner dialogue.

Beyond this door,
said Cameron Bell, to no one but himself,
someone moves about. Doing what? Searching for something, would be my considered opinion. Searching for what? Something that the searcher did not find in the portmanteau he stole? Perhaps. Something that has been represented as being the lost Ring of Moses, perhaps?

Satisfied with the logic of these propositions, Cameron Bell drew out his pistol, checked it, cocked it, put his free hand to the handle of the door. Turned it gently.

Then flung open the door.

‘Officer of the law,’ cried Cameron Bell. ‘Drop any weapons and raise your hands, if you will.’

The beam of a bullseye lantern caught him full in the face. The roar, as of some savage beast, brought fear to Cameron Bell. Something leapt towards him from the darkness.

The private detective shielded his face and fired his pistol blindly into the room. Again and again and again and again until he ran out of bullets.