The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures - Mike Ashley [166]
Holmes leaned forward. “Some, you say?”
The Inspector nodded gravely and reached for his cup of tea. “Only the torso was found – it was identified by her clothes. Both legs, both arms and the unfortunate girl’s head were missing.”
“But her heart?” I said.
“Her torso was intact, Doctor Watson. And we’ve since found both legs, the head and one of the arms.”
“Where were these limbs found, Inspector?” Holmes enquired.
“A little way along the embankment, in the bushes.”
“Were they close together?”
Inspector Makinson frowned. “Yes, yes I believe they were.”
“And the embankment has been thoroughly searched?”
“In both directions, and with a toothcomb, Mr Holmes. The other arm wasn’t there.”
Holmes lifted his coffee and stared into the swirling liquid. “And now you have another murder, I take it.”
Makinson nodded and twirled his moustache. “Yes, a fourth body was reported in the early hours of this morning to a Bobby on the beat. Down a small alleyway alongside the market buildings in the town square. Another shotgun blast, this time in the face at point blank range. Took most of his head with it, it did. We identified the corpse from what we found in his pockets. William Fitzhue Crosby, the manager of our local branch of Daleside Bank.”
“And the man’s heart?” I enquired.
“Ripped out like the first two.”
“Who reported the body?” asked Holmes.
“An old cleaner woman for the market buildings. She lives there all the time. She heard the shot, looked out of her windows and saw the body.”
I watched my friend drain his cup and return it to the tray before him. He settled back into his seat and glanced first at me and then at the Inspector.
“Tell me, Inspector,” he said at last. “How much disturbance had there been around the teacher’s body?”
Gerald Makinson frowned. “Disturbance?”
I recognized a touch of impatience in the way my friend waved his hand. “Blood, Inspector. How much blood was there on the ground?”
“Very little, Mr Holmes. But our doctor tells me that once the heart was removed there wouldn’t be much blood loss. The girl’s clothes were soaked, mind you.”
Holmes nodded. “Were there any traces of blood on the grass leading to and from the severed limbs?”
Makinson shook his head. “None as we could find,” he said dolefully.
Holmes considered this before asking, “And what signs were about the body of the banker?”
“Again, very little. We put it down again to – ”
“to the removal of the heart.”
“Yes,” Inspector Makinson agreed.
“Quite so.” Holmes nodded slowly and then closed his eyes. “And why would anyone want to steal a heart? Or, more significantly, three hearts plus an assortment of severed limbs and a head? For that matter, why would they leave the young woman’s heart in place?”
“It’s like I say,” said the Inspector, “it’s a puzzle and no denying … which is, I might add, why I called upon your services. And those of the good doctor,” he added with a peremptory nod in my direction.
“And we are both delighted that you did so, Inspector,” said Holmes. “But what if,” he continued, leaning forward suddenly in his chair, “the murderer simply forgot to take the girl’s heart.”
“Forgot it!” I was so astounded by the seeming preposterous nature of my friend’s suggestion that I almost choked on a mouthful of toast. “Why ever would he do that when that was his entire objective?”
“But was it his objective, old fellow?” said Holmes.
“What are you saying, Mr Holmes?”
“Just this: suppose the removal of the hearts was simply to cover up some other reason for the murders?”
“I cannot imagine any reason for murder which is so despicable that the murderer would want to cover it up with the removal of a heart,” I observed.
“No, perhaps not, Watson. Not a despicable reason, I agree. But perhaps a reason that might lead us to his identity.