“How can you be aware that the vandal’s scalp is likewise involved?” Lestrade challenged. “He would not wear the scarf on top of his head.”
“Again it was a matter of simple observation,” Joanna explained. “Stuck firmly in the coal tar lotion on the garment are long strands of hair, to which was affixed large, reddened scales which therefore must originate from the man’s scalp. Some of these strands, by the way, are gray in color while others are brown, indicating the vandal is in his middle years.”
Even I, who was accustomed to watching Joanna arrive at extraordinary deductions from the smallest clue, had to be impressed with her ability to make so much from so little. But for her to determine the vandal’s frame and height from the scarf did seem a stretch too far. I was about to inquire into her line of reasoning, but Lestrade asked the question for me.
“How could you possibly establish the vandal’s shape and height with any degree of exactness?” asked he.
“I had to make some basic assumptions, but I think you will find my reasoning sound,” said Joanna. “Now, Inspector, please hold the scarf out by its ends while I take accurate measurements.” She went to a nearby drawer for a ruler and began measuring. “You will note that the garment is six inches in width, and that in its middle the coal tar stain covers five inches top to bottom. We can assume this neat, tidy man would conceal the entire back of his neck to hide his most unattractive skin condition. Thus, the man’s neck runs five inches from its top to its bottom, where the thoracic spine begins. In an individual of average stature, the length would be three to three and a half inches. Since the length of the neck almost always correlates to a person’s full measure, we can deduce the owner of the scarf is of greater than average height. Furthermore, we know that in most instances a five-inch neck belongs to a six-foot man, and thus it is reasonable to estimate our vandal is six feet tall.”
“Remarkable,” Lestrade commented, shaking his head in wonderment. “How do you come by such information?”
“I make it my business to know what others do not,” Joanna said nonchalantly, though for a moment she seemed pleased at the evident admiration. “The clues were sitting there, waiting to be discerned.”
“But how then do you know he was thin?” Lestrade asked, again jotting down the data. “Tall people can also be obese.”
“Which this individual was not,” Joanna attested. “My measurements also revealed that the width of the coal tar stain was only three inches. A neck that is five inches in length and only three inches in width at its rear must obviously be possessed by a tall, thin man.”
“So noted,” Lestrade agreed. “But I am curious as to whether this man’s rash might be more generalized and not confined to the neck and scalp. This, too, could aid in his identification.”
“I should leave that up to Dr. Watson and his considerable experience in the practice of medicine,” said Joanna.
“A most excellent question, Inspector,” my father replied. “And I suspect the answer is yes. You see, the skin condition Joanna so ably described fits well with the diagnosis of psoriasis, which is characterized by red, scaly lesions that may be present on the extremities and torso as well.”
“And at times it is associated with a most deforming type of arthritis that involves the small joints of the hands,” I added. “It may also affect the fingernails, causing them to become heaped up and crusted over.”
“So, Inspector,” Joanna summarized, “you are searching for a tall, thin man with red, scaly lesions on his neck and scalp and perhaps elsewhere on his body. He is in his middle years, with long, gray hair, and carries the distinct odor of coal tar wherever he goes. His attire and shoes are most likely worn and no doubt out of fashion, for he has now come on hard times.”
“These are most helpful clues,” Lestrade told us, with a nod of gratitude. “We shall see if there is an individual with these characteristics who is associated with the vandalized galleries or has been seen in their vicinity. The presence of a deforming arthritis in his hands would be noticed by most.”
“Do not count on our vandal having severe arthritis of the hands,” Joanna suggested. “Such an individual could not grasp a knife and proceed to slash a painting on thick canvas, nor tear it apart.”
“So noted,” Lestrade said again, as he jotted down a final entry. “Your observations will be put to good use, but I am afraid they will not lead to rapid resolution which is so important at this point in time. The art galleries, which depend on Christmas sales for much of their yearly profits, are being greatly harmed by these crimes. People tend to stay away from businesses that have been vandalized, and this is particularly so for art galleries, where shoppers unjustly fear that paintings may have been damaged or somehow altered, yet still put on display. Add to this the newspapers telling of how recently purchased paintings have been traced to and torn apart in private homes, and you can understand why sales at virtually all galleries have dropped off precipitously. Some are even said to be facing bankruptcy. Thus, time is of the essence in putting a stop to this vandalism.”
“The pressure on Scotland Yard to solve this case must be enormous,” my father ventured.
“And growing by the day, Dr. Watson,” Lestrade said, and taking a deep breath, gazed over to Joanna. “I wonder if you and the Watsons would be good enough to lend assistance in this most important case. This being the holiday season, I know you must have other obligations, but your help in bringing this matter to a
