The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures

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.'

While Inspector Makinson and I considered this, my friend continued.

'Inspector, did your men find any traces of blood or tissue… perhaps even bone fragments… on the wall which took the shotgun blast?'

Inspector Makinson's eyes widened. 'Why, I don't believe we did.'

'Quite, Inspector. That fact and the fact that was little or no evidence of blood around the body, despite the removal of the heart, means that the murder was committed somewhere else and the body carried to the alleyway.

'I sense a confusion of red herrings,' Holmes continued. 'Red herrings?'

'Quite so, Watson,' Holmes said as he got to his feet. 'But before we go any further, I think we should see the bodies.'

Without further ado, Inspector Makinson led us out of the room, along a series of corridors and then down a long staircase.

Finally, we arrived at a large oaken door inlaid with sheets of metal and an iron bar manacled through two support frames. The door opened onto a narrow corridor through whose windows we got our first glimpse of the unfortunate victims.

The entrance to the 'resting' room was at the far end of the corridor and, as we walked along, I could not help but stare at the series of cots covered over with bottle-green sheets, and at the unmistakable human shapes beneath.

The room itself smelled of death, the familiar aroma – to me, at least – of putrefying flesh, a mixed scent of ruined fruit and

stale milk. There is something about dead bodies which causes the living to speak in hushed tones in their presence. Indeed, it was several months of concentrated autopsy work before even I myself could overcome the need to affect some kind of

reverence. But a dead body is not a person.This knowledge, too, comes only with practice and repeated exposure.

Makinson walked across to the first cot and crouched down to read the label tied to the support. 'This one, Mr Holmes,

is,,

'Could we have them in the order they were murdered, Inspector?' Holmes boomed. 'And I don't think there's any need to whisper. Nothing we say in here will be any revelation to the victims.'

Makinson stood up, ran a finger across his moustache and coughed loudly. He walked across to the second cot, studied the label and then crossed to the third. 'This,' he announced in grand tones, 'is Mr Wetherall.'

I followed Holmes across to the cot and watched as Makinson pulled back the sheet.

Decomposition was well underway, despite the cool temperature of the room.

I could see that the man had been in his mid forties although the sunken eyes and hollowing cheeks were giving him a countenance of someone considerably older. A wide ligature around the neck had discoloured to a dull brown shade.

'What do you make of that, Watson?' Holmes said, pointing to the man's chest.

The wound was extensive, apparently caused by a series of slashes into the flesh, some of which extended vertically from the collarbone almost to the waist while others crossed the sternum either horizontally or diagonally. 'These wounds were presumably made to expose the heart,' I concluded, 'but it looks like a frenzied attack. Considering that the man would have been dead when these were committed, I can only conclude that the murderer was in a terrible hurry. See here, several sections of flesh appear to have been hacked out.'

Holmes stepped in front of Makinson, who shuffled to one side, and bent over the body. 'Did you find these pieces of flesh, Inspector?'

'No. But we had noticed they was missing. We presumed that the killer took them with the heart.'

'By mistake or in haste, you mean?' I shook my head. 'That does not make sense. The flesh is entirely separate to the heart. Once exposed – as these wounds would surely have done easily – the heart would be