Free Sherlock Holmes Murder Most Foul by Gordon Punter Page B

goin’?”
    Looking aloft, Holmes spots the street nameplate, Buck’s Row , affixed to the side of the Board School building. He gently nudges Watson on the arm, “Perhaps our dreams do tell us something, after all.”
    Watson sighs, “Mumbo jumbo, Holmes.”
    Kirby strolls up behind Thain, “Step aside, lad, I’ll deal with these gentlemen.”
    Thain smartly moves to one side.
    Kirby steps forward, looking both men up and down, “Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson, in the flesh at last.”
    Holmes inquisitively stares at Kirby, “I do not believe we have met before, Sergeant…?”
    Kirby smiles, “Kirby. Sergeant Kirby, sir. I’m a great admirer of yours, Mr Holmes.” He quickly turns to Watson, “And of you, too, Dr Watson.”
    Acknowledging the compliment, Watson modestly tips his hat.
    Holmes looks at Kirby intently, “Where has the body been taken, Sergeant?”
    Kirby hesitates, “Ah, yes, the body.”
    Holmes pursues his question, “Come, come, Sergeant, to which mortuary has the body been taken?”
    Kirby pensively scratches the side of his face, “I’d like to know, off the record, so to speak, how you knew that a murder had been committed here, Mr Holmes?”
    Watson chuckles mischievously, “Haven’t you heard, Sergeant? Holmes is [95] clairvoyant.”
    Holmes sternly glances at Watson, “Intuition might be nearer the truth.”
    Watson guiltily apologises, “I’m sorry, Holmes.”
    Misunderstanding and thinking that the exchange of words is part of their investigative mode, Kirby taps the side of his nose, “Ah, trade secrets, eh?”
    Amused, Holmes smiles, “Quite so, Sergeant.” He again pursues his query, mimicking some of Kirby’s own words “Off the record, so to speak, where has the body been taken, Sergeant?”
    Kirby taps the three stripes on the sleeve of his tunic, “I’ve grown fond of these, Mr Holmes.”
    Holmes is empathic, “I will use the information discreetly. You have my word, Sergeant.”
    Kirby glances over his shoulder and then steps closer to Holmes, “Well, Mr Holmes, let’s put it this way. There’s a mortuary in Cable Street and another in Old Montague Street. Don’t think you ought to bother with the first one, though.”
    Appreciatively, Holmes tips his head to Kirby.
     
    ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
     
    Whitechapel does not have a public mortuary. Its only one had been demolished a few years earlier by the Metropolitan Board of Works when widening a street in the district.
    Subsequently, corpses were taken, as they are today, to a local workhouse infirmary which featured a mortuary that was, in fact, nothing more than a large dirty shed.
    Still required to perform autopsies in these foul places, Divisional Police Surgeons, whilst giving their testimonies at coroner’s inquests, frequently protest and chide government officials, whom they hold responsible for the deplorable unsanitary conditions in which they are forced to work.
     
    ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
     
    Whilst dawn breaks, and impatient to get to the mortuary in Old Montague Street, Holmes departs Buck’s Row and ardently leads a weary Watson through a warren of foul smelling streets. Passing a shabby court, he hastily enters a dingy alleyway and halts before two large wooden gates, one fitted with a small [96] wicket door.
    Watson catches his breath, “Good Lord, Holmes, I do believe you know the district by heart.”
    Holmes contemplates the gates, “My dear fellow, it has always been a practice of mine to consult a map before embarking on a new case, especially when confronted by unfamiliar territory. In this particular instance, I merely studied a map of the neighbourhood, committing its streets and relevant places of interest to memory.”
    Watson stifles a yawn and indicates the gates, “The mortuary, Holmes?”
    Holmes nods, “As a rule, discreet access is often gained by the use of a rear entrance.” With the tip of his walking cane, he prods the wicket door, “Ah, locked.”
    Watson peers over his