Free Sherlock Holmes Murder Most Foul by Gordon Punter Page A

touches the first of three steps that lead up to the bridge, “To mount, or descend these steps whilst trying to manoeuvre a barrow would be idiotic.” He glances over his shoulder at the alleyway, “Once you emerge from that alleyway, the throughway on this side broadens to some sixteen to eighteen feet. Therefore, the unusual width of this bridge implies that it was solely designed to fit the breadth of this land and not constructed to assist with the movement of trade, Watson.”
    Watson sighs, “Thank you, Holmes, most enlightening.”
    Holmes thoughtfully looks up at the night sky, “It would appear that [94] Mother Nature has given us respite from the rain. Come, Watson, before she changes her mind.”
    Strolling across the bridge, Holmes indicates its rough surface, “Below us is the Metropolitan District Railway and, if I am not mistaken, just up ahead will be Winthrop Street.”
    Upon reaching the dreary street, which runs straight across their path, Holmes and Watson immediately turn left and, after taking a few steps, diagonally walk to the pavement opposite. About to pass an overhead sign that reads Harrison, Barber & Co. Ltd. Horse Slaughters , both men quickly sidestep animal offal being brushed out through two open gates by a slaughterman.
    Watson murmurs in disgust, “Good heavens, Holmes, have these people no respect for disease?”
    Holmes glances at the weathered sign, “Unlike the wealthy, Watson, impoverished people cannot afford to remain idle. Public sanitation means nothing to those struggling to survive.”
    Nearing the right-hand end of the street, Watson looks up at a grim edifice, “And what institutional blemish is that?”
    “A Board School, where the susceptible minds of children are gradually marred by sanctimonious teachers clutching the Book of Common Prayer in one hand and wielding a cane with the other. Charlatans, all of them, Watson, who should be driven from this world and refused entry into the next.”
    “I say, Holmes, strong words, indeed.”
    “I loathe bigotry, Watson. An impartial tutor is certainly a rarity these days, much like an honest criminal.”
    Rounding the Board School and about to enter the next street, Holmes and Watson nearly collide with Constable Thain, standing beneath an unlit wall-mounted gas lantern. Caught unawares, he raises a deterring hand to Holmes, “Sorry, sir, but you can’t come through here.”
    Holmes stares past him intently, noting the scene unfolding before him.
    Mid-fifties, chubby and holding a notepad and pencil, Sergeant Kirby stands before an elderly man, Walter Purkis, outside Essex Wharf, “You’re the manager of this place and you heard nothing at all, is that right?”
    Purkis irritably points to Constable Neil questioning Mrs Green as she leans against the open door of her house, “Told ’im once, now I tell yer.” He points to a first-floor window, “I were up there wiv me missus, asleep. Never ’eard nor saw a soul ’til ’e come a knockin’.”
    Staring at Neil and running her fingers through her unkempt grey hair, Mrs Green fumes, “’Ow many more times ’ave I got t’ tell yer? Like I told the sergeant, I didn’t ’ear anyfink. Nor did I see ’ide nor ’air o’ anyone.”
    In front of the gateway and watched by another two police constables, a young lad swings a wooden pail and, after pitching water onto the ground, begins to brush away the last vestiges of blood.
    Holmes turns to Thain, “At what time was the body found?”
    Thain cocks his head enquiringly, “Who are you?”
    Holmes civilly introduces himself, “Sherlock Holmes.”
    Upon hearing the spoken name, Kirby looks over his shoulder.
    Holmes indicates Watson, “And my good friend and associate, Dr Watson.”
    Unacquainted with the names, Thain politely murmurs, “Sorry, sir, but I still can’t let you through here.”
    Kirby turns to Purkis, “Wait here!”
    Sleepily rubbing his eyes, Purkis groans, “Where else am I