The Last Confession of Sherlock Holmes (16 page)

“I assume the verdict was as expected?” asked Holmes, briefly halting his relentless march before the mantle-piece in order to procure some tobacco from his slipper.

“Indeed it was,” said I, keeping a watchful eye upon his habits; I could not offer an explanation for what was nothing more than instinctive intuition, but there was some minor detail in his manner which was somewhat unnerving. “As we know, there is a long way to travel before an inherently violent man with no alibi in 1888 can be accused of being Jack the Ripper. Regarding more recent events, a neighbour gave evidence that he saw Chapman enter his dwellings at midnight upon the night in question. Chapman had been returning from a local drinking establishment, which was verified, and no contradictory evidence was given to that of his wife, who said he slept beside her in a drunken slumber until morning. In conjunction with the fact that the victim remains anonymous, it is of course impossible to satisfactorily link her to Chapman or anyone else for that matter. Abberline was distraught. He is still convinced of Chapman's guilt regardless of the verdict, and I am afraid to say that all he has achieved is publicly dragging his name through a considerable amount of dirt.”

“That, I am afraid, cannot be helped. If our colleagues insist upon ignoring our kind offers and, as you say, dragging themselves through the dirt, there is little we can do to stop them. Inspector Abberline's was a case of the most deplorable kind: he lacked both evidence and truth. However, not all is lost; now that the authorities have so extravagantly miscalculated, we shall at least enjoy priority over investigations.”

“What are your plans?”

“We have one plan available to us: it is fantastical in both its level of crudeness and personal danger, but now is not the time to discuss such matters. We must be careful, Watson; we cannot afford to commit the kind of ill-judged blunders which our colleagues seem to insist upon. Every step, no matter how trivial or mundane, must be considered to the utmost of our abilities. I shall therefore not even contemplate explaining such a plan until we have heard the curious tale of Mr Cecil Kirkby.”

It is a most un-enjoyable experience to be Holmes's fellow lodger when he is in a period of limbo during a case; his mood resembles that of a man trapped in purgatory. I learnt long ago that any form of diversionary proposal is completely pointless in such circumstances, no matter how practical a recommendation; nothing short of a crisis is sufficient to prevent Holmes from constantly revolving the facts.

During the hours in which we awaited Wiggins' return, he demanded an absolute breakdown of the trial; he was adamant upon hearing every single piece of minutiae. Fortunately, I had prepared for such an event, and had recorded what seemed to be every word of the proceedings. However, in a moment of rare and foolish optimism, I had failed to anticipate that Holmes would not be satisfied to merely read my report, but would insist upon my spoken narrative. It was both tiresome and monotonous, but it helped liberate Holmes's faculties, freeing him to fully visualise my words. Some may find it surprising that he requires such aid, but even the greatest of minds rely upon tricks and techniques to maximise their efficiency and capabilities. Although this kind of request is quite common within the confines of our friendship, I soon became exasperated at Holmes's insistence upon repetition of such vast quantities of ostensibly innocuous data.

By the time we had completed this downright tedious task, I was in a state of utter irritability: a frame of mind which was not helped by the sudden burst of sharp discords that erupted from Holmes's violin. I am grateful that occasionally he accedes to cater for my taste in popular music, and often I am rewarded with performances of quite breath-taking beauty. He commands a delicacy of touch which allows notes to resonate exquisitely in the air before crisply breaking into splendid and supremely controlled staccatos; it was the fluidity and entirely natural transformation in style which informed me I was being left the undeniable calling card of a true musician.

Unfortunately, the balancing act of equal contrast that can be seen throughout our universe was still at work inside 221
B
, and the price to pay for these sporadic private performances was the torture upon the ear of Holmes' inaudible thrashing of the strings. To suffer this most atrocious of toneless assaults was an all too regular occurrence, and one for which I believe Holmes should be forced to attend Confession. However, such is the affect it has upon his ability to contemplate matters of subtlety, it is regrettably effective.

Under such tumultuous conditions, it was difficult to ascertain as to which one of us was more thrilled by the reappearance of Wiggins and his most intriguing of companions. Mercifully, Holmes placed his violin back in its case and silently swooped back down upon his chair in anticipation, while I exhaustedly gave up my pretence of attempting to read the evening paper.

Mr Cecil Kirkby could not have wished for a more inappropriate escort upon his first and indeed singular visit to Baker Street. As the two unlikely compatriots entered our rooms, his contrast to Wiggins was starkly apparent. Kirkby struck me as a rather odd fellow: he had an exceedingly strong jaw, which looked as if it would be rather more suitable upon the work of a sculptor. He was clearly not a man of great age, yet the tips of his feathers were prematurely whitened. He had watery green-grey eyes, and wore his fashionable suit with a pompous demeanour.

“Mr Cecil Kirkby,” said Holmes, rising from his chair and offering his hand to our guest. “I am Sherlock Holmes and this is my friend and colleague Dr Watson. Please take a seat.”

“I'll leave you gentlemen to your business,” said Wiggins from the doorway.

“Thank you Wiggins,” said Holmes, discreetly rewarding our Irregular as he shook his hand in farewell before closing the door. “I apologise for this request of your time on such short notice, Mr Kirkby, and I offer my sympathies that I have robbed you of your meal: naturally you are not accustomed to such events, but if our interview is brief, you may still make the performance of your treasured Verdi at the Royal Opera House.”

“Have you been having me followed, Mr Holmes?” demanded our guest, half-rising from his chair.

“That would be a most unnecessary task, Mr Kirkby, I deduce all from what I see before me,” Holmes replied in a reassuring tone.

“I have heard of your abilities, Mr Holmes, but it will require more than assurances to convince me of your actions.”

“Very well, a brief demonstration. You are dressed for an evening's entertainment in recently purchased attire from Ede & Ravenscroft: yet it is too early for you to have been journeying to the Opera House, making an early treat of fine cuisine a more likely pre-show destination. A treat which, judging by the uneven shine upon your shoes, will soon become a luxury of the past, as you have recently been forced to let go of your servant and perform the task yourself. How did I know you were going to a performance of Verdi, you may ask? Well, I have heard the offering at the Royal Opera House is quite exceptional, which raises the counter-proposal of where else would a man of taste go on such an evening? If I needed any further assistance upon the matter, I noted the distinctive ticket slightly protruding from your pocket. The enforced curtailing of your expenditure combined with your attendance of Verdi would therefore suggest you are a great admirer, for you can no longer afford the extravagance of choice.”

“Correct upon all accounts,” said Kirkby, though clearly agitated that personal information could be extracted with such apparent ease.

“Now, Mr Kirkby, I would like to assure you that so long as your activities have remained within the boundaries of the law, and I am not placed in a position where I am obliged to act against you, this interview will remain in the strictest of confidentialities.”

“I appreciate your assurances, Mr Holmes,” said Kirkby, in a soft, rather curious tone. “Though I only have a vague inclination as to the reason of your summons, I can guarantee there has been no wrong-doing on my behalf. If I may be so bold, gentlemen, my time is yours, but I would not wish to be inconvenienced for longer than is strictly necessary.”

“Do not worry,” said Holmes, retaking his seat. “I shall not take up any more of your time unnecessarily. It has come to my attention that you have experienced a case of notable misfortune, specifically in reference to a woman you have been courting. I appreciate the delicacy of the situation,” Holmes answered, in response to the look of irritated surprise upon our guest. “I simply wish to hear your tale of recent events, and what you believe is the cause of this rather unexpected disappearance.”

“Well, Mr Holmes, I do not know how you gather your information but you appear remarkably well informed, and I have nothing to hide. I am a bachelor, residing alone in my apartment just off Russell Square. I am a solicitor by profession: I graduated from Cambridge with first-class honours and worked several years as a law clerk. I used the money which I had earned, as well as that acquired from my modest inheritance, to start afresh in establishing my own firm. My work was initially slow, and I struggled to pay the rent on my Lincolns Inn office but through continual success and strokes of good fortune, I made a comfortable living. The majority of my income was through an illustrious client, who shall remain anonymous. I lived a life of comfort and pleasure when I was not absorbed by the anxieties of my work; I have never taken to the temptations of substances or gambling, which are responsible for numerous examples of my colleagues' misfortunes. One matter, which I will confess as it seems pointless to hide my situation before gentlemen already privy to such information, is that I regularly visit a house of assignation upon Regent Street. For concerns of privacy, I travel to this establishment by carriage. I shall not go into details but I should wish merely to state that, though I am not impartial to the notion of marriage, I do not visit such an establishment in the hope of achieving such an end.”

“We are not here to pass judgment upon your way of life, Mr Kirkby. Cigarette?” asked Holmes, holding out a slender silver container.

“Thank you,” said Kirkby, cheerfully accepting the offer. “Establishments like this are useful for people of a certain class, where discretion is assured and a certain amount of decorum is still observed. I was a regular visitor for some years before I was acquainted with a Miss Elizabeth Sutherland.”

Our guest paused briefly in order to gather his thoughts and appreciate the calming affect of tobacco; it appeared the events had been most traumatic.

“May you describe this woman for us? I assure you it is of the utmost importance,” said Holmes.

“She was a most attractive woman. She had long blonde hair, a small, rounded face and blue eyes of dazzling beauty. She dressed in a manner which was modestly flattering; never had I seen her wearing so much as a ring which was not perfect in suitability.”

“May I interject with one enquiry before you continue,” said Holmes, his eyes locked upon our guest. “Why is it that you refer to this Miss Sutherland, whom you so fondly describe, in the past tense?”

“You appeared to be so wise as to the situation, that I admit I had rather assumed you knew what had happened to Elizabeth,” said Kirkby, a flush of anger seeping into his previously relaxed state.

“I was under the impression that Miss Sutherland had disappeared, Mr Kirkby; unless there is some information which you have failed to share with us, I must ask that you refer to her in the present tense, if only to avoid unnecessary suspicion.”

“Of course,” said Kirkby, through, to my surprise, somewhat gritted teeth. “While she was married, I had admired Miss Sutherland from afar, but such was the reputation of her husband that I did not wish to trouble myself with either of their acquaintances. After his death, Elizabeth was left with an insufficient inheritance to maintain her previous lifestyle, and to my delight began to visit Regent Street in the hope of finding a suitable courtier. I offered her such means, but I had no real interest in the taking of a wife: particularly in light of more recent developments, which had seen my career embark upon a steep decline.”

“If you are in search of sympathies, Mr Kirkby, having just informed us of the way in which you would so cruelly manipulate a young woman's heart purely for your own indulgences, I should inform you that you shall receive none. Now continue with your narrative and please stick to the facts.”

“I should inform you, I am not used to being addressed so bluntly, Mr Holmes! But very well,” he conceded in response to my friend's unimpressed glare, “I did not fall down a slippery slope professionally, but rather walked off a cliff. I had a single, rather embarrassing mishap while handling a case for the illustrious client I previously mentioned. Since then, I have been struggling: my client abandoned me in an instant and did not hold his tongue regarding my sole instance of misjudgement. I tried to maintain a public appearance and continue my previous social activities to the best of my abilities. I wished to convince Elizabeth to move away with me, out of London, and settle down to a new life of quiet prosperity, but she soon disappeared. I received no warning of her departure and have had no contact; no one seems to have any inkling as to where she may have gone.”

“You say that you attempted to gain this woman's hand in marriage, that she has disappeared, and there are no decipherable clues as to her location, and yet only now, under my invitation, do you divulge such information. Why have you not come to me sooner?”

“I only courted her hand as I did not want to begin a new life in complete solitude.”

“You are fortunate your actions are not punishable by law, Mr Kirkby. You are a despicably selfish man who deserves nothing less than the severest of Her Majesty's punishments.”

“And who are you to judge me, Mr Holmes? You are hardly renowned for your love of women!”