“After a fashion, I s’pose. ‘Twas a Fleet marriage. I ain’t sure it was legal, but I let her use my name. We dorsed different places, howsomever.”
“A Fleet marriage? And what unlucky parson performed the ceremony?”
“No idea. I disremembers his name.”
“Tell Sir John what you were up to in there.”
“I was selling souvenirs of the occasion.”
Sir John was silent for a moment. Then he shook his head. “I… I do not understand.”
Then said Mr. Fuller, in the deepest and darkest of tones, “Sir, he was sellin’ her off piecemeal. You ain’t been in there yet, ain’t had her condition described to you, but she’s all cut up, and her inwards have been emptied out and scattered about the room. He was offerin’ her organs and such for sale to those who come in — and there was buyers — these other three among them. I know not how many more.”
What I saw then I had never seen before, nor would I ever afterwards. Sir John raised his walking stick, and in his blindness struck out at Edward Tribble. He thrashed away at him for a minute or more until, his anger exhausted, he gave it up at last. His blows were remarkably well placed, considering they were delivered in what must have been, for him, total darkness. All Tribble could do was cower and cover his head until they ceased.
When they had, he was unwise enough to speak up in his own defense. “You’d no cause to do that,” said he, whining. “She was my wife and my whore.”
“And so you, too, claim the right of property? She was a human being, you little turd!”
So saying. Sir John whipped one last blow across Tribble’s upright form, doing little hurt but perhaps easing his own sense of outrage. I noted that throughout Sir John’s thrashing of Mr. Tribble there were no huzzahs and no applause from that great crowd of witnesses. They stood and sat most quiet, impressed by what they saw. Their silence gave approval, for only when it was done did the murmuring begin.
Then did Mr. Albert Palgrave wail forth, “I did not sanction it. I tried to get him out of there. I urged him to leave.”
Yet he had fallen back out of range of Sir John’s punishing stick. The magistrate stepped back in disgust.
“Mr. Fuller,” said he, “take them away. I have heard enough, quite enough. I will meet them again at my noon session.”
“It will be my pleasure,” said the constable, and, having in his hand the rope to which their necks were all attached, gave a great tug to it and set them on their way, an awkward ten-legged beast.
Yet before they had traveled far. Sir John called after them, “Mr. Fuller, halt just a moment, if you will. You seem to have the situation well in hand, so could you leave off a weapon or two for Jeremy? He may be put to guard, and he will need something to keep the curious at bay, I fear.”
“Come here then, Jeremy,” Mr. Fuller called back to me, “and take the pistols.”
I jog-trotted up and relieved him of the brace on the belt round his waist.
“They’re loaded, make no mistake,” said he.
“I’ll be careful.”
“See that you are. Here we go, chums!”
And then he gave another tug upon the rope, and willy-nilly his prisoners followed. I, in my turn, made my way back to Sir John, buckling on the pistols, strutting a bit for the benefit of the crowd.
“Jeremy,” said Sir John, “take me to the room in question. I believe there are two stairs and a small porch.” He was, of course, correct. “I would address those who have looked on at our tawdry show. They are still out and gawking, are they not?”
“They are, sir.”
I led him up the stairs and onto the porch, where he turned and spoke forth as he might have in court:
“To all you assembled here. I now address a plea. If you have any information to impart which might lead to the apprehension of him who committed the murder of this unfortunate woman who was your neighbor, then I ask you to report it to this young man here. If you saw a visitor come to her last night, plea.se describe him. If you know her habits, please describe them. Even if what you have are only suspicions, unburden yourselves. Tell him all or anything that might help us. We are quite desperate to find this most vicious killer.”
Then, having made his address, he slapped the floor of the porch with his walking stick as a sort of final punctuation, turned, and carefully entered the room, taking only two steps inside. As I took his place upon the porch, I caught a glimpse over Sir John’s shoulder of that something on the bed. It could hardly be called a corpus, much less a woman. It resembled far more the sides of beef and hog carcasses I had seen on display in Smithfield Market — ribs exposed, the white of other bones protruding through great gashes, and a gaping red hole where the belly should have been. I turned away, not wishing to see more.
Turning to face the court, I folded my arms so that the fingers of each hand rested upon the butt of a pistol. I pulled a stem face, thinking I ought to look formidable; then remembering that I was to be available to any who wished to give evidence, I adjusted my expression to suit that purpose — benign and approachable. Yet from the look of the sitters and the layabouts, there would not be many to come to me; one by one, two by two, they began to depart — some from the court, and others into their rooms and behind their doors; their morning’s entertainment was done.
And so, the while I stood, I had naught to do but listen to the earnest conversation of Sir John and Mr. Donnelly.
Having made his careful entry into the room. Sir John had remained quiet for a time. Then: ‘Ts it as bad as Constable Fuller described?”
“I know not what the constable said, but it is a horror, sir, an absolute horror. In all my days as a surgeon, I have not seen a human body so completely destroyed. The monster who did this must have spent well over an hour at his work.”
“I smell blood and all manner of unholy odors.”
“There is blood quite everywhere one looks. It is here on the wall above her head where it spurted and ran when her throat was cut — that was the immediate cause of death, by the bye — it is here on the bed, bled out from this huge wound in her middle, and it is on the floor, dripped from the organs he removed from her body. All of it is well on its way to drying.”
“That means, of course, that she is some hours dead.”
“Oh yes, I would say she is a good six hours dead, at least, likely longer. Rigor mortis has stiffened her in the carnal posture, naked, of course. She was no doubt murdered late, late at night, at three or so.”
“Given an hour to do his cutting and hacking, he would have left at four — still pitch dark this time of year. Yet, from what you’ve told me, he would have been bloodied from head to toe.”
“A greatcoat could have covered all. Or, another possibility, he himself may have been naked through it all. There is bloody water in a wash basin and traces of scarlet on a dress on the floor nearby. He may have used it to wash and dry himself.”
“A grotesque thought,” said Sir John. “May I come forward a bit without tracking the floor in blood?”
“Oh, no need to worry. Blood has been tracked all about the room. You’re standing in a bit of it now.”
I noted some movement in the room behind me. Silence followed.
“What organs are missing?” Sir John asked after a minute or more.
“That,” replied the surgeon, “is difficult to say at the moment. I shall have to have her brought to my surgery and attempt to put her back together, as it were. There will, in any case, be some missing parts, I suspect.”
“Due, no doubt, to her pimp’s trafficking. I had never heard of such a thing before, could not conceive of it.”
“Perhaps not only to him. The murderer made a fire in the fireplace — or it could be that she lit it to keep them warm during their … their transaction. In any case, I found in the ashes in the grate remains of what appears to be her tongue, which was cut from her mouth. Her eyes, too, were dug out of her head. They would have melted swiftly in an open flame.”