“This is an official search warrant for the premises and all structures within,” Lestrade announced. “You will be reimbursed for all damages should no criminal activity be discovered.”
I turned to see Lestrade at the front of the gallery, with two constables at his side, each armed with a pickax. The few customers in the art gallery hurried out past a third constable who stood guard at the entrance.
“What kind of nonsense is this?” Hawke demanded.
“It would be in your best interest to cooperate,” Lestrade said and, without waiting for a response, added, “Be good enough, Mr. Hawke, to lead the way down to your restoration area.”
“You shall hear from my solicitor!” Hawke threatened.
Lestrade was unmoved. “You may wish to protect those works of art that are in the process of being restored,” he cautioned.
With that warning, Hawke hurried to the staircase, with Lestrade, two constables, Joanna, and Delvecchio only steps behind. Not wishing to miss even a minute of the action, I rapidly copied down the data on the final documents describing the works of Caravaggio, Canaletto, and Titian. After a quick double-check, I found I had written down an erroneous date on the Titian and corrected it. Then, gathering up all the information, I dashed for the stairs.
In the restoration area, the two constables had removed their coats and were carefully rolling up their shirtsleeves. I could not help but notice their pickaxes which were leaning upright against the brick wall that enclosed the central heating furnace. All was eerily silent as Hawke and Delvecchio busily placed shrouds over paintings that had been or were in the process of being restored. My father stood off to the side of the brick enclosure where he had been stationed earlier to make certain it remained secure.
“I trust you are not planning to destroy the protective brick enclosure,” Hawke called to Lestrade.
“Only its door, if you refuse to open it,” Lestrade said.
“It is tightly bolted and closed off, so no soiled air can seep through,” Hawke informed. “But it can be unlocked.”
“Then please do so.”
Using two keys, Hawke opened the steel door and stepped back as clear but fuel-laden air escaped into the restoration area. Once the odor had dissipated, Lestrade led the way into a spacious room that was enclosed by brick walls on all sides. In its center was a large furnace with an ample, open area around it, which would allow workmen to perform maintenance and needed repairs. The bare floor of the space was made of solid cement, and its walls were uninterrupted except for a wide, bricked-in fireplace.
“Surely you do not plan to break through the sturdy floor and walls, which would wreak havoc on our climate control,” Hawke said in a pleading voice.
“The walls and floor do not interest us, but your bricked-in fireplace does,” Lestrade informed and signaled to the constables to begin their work.
“If you turn up nothing, your expense will be considerable,” Hawke warned.
“I suspect your expense will be far greater,” said Lestrade.
The constables drove their pickaxes over and over through the thick, red bricks that covered the fireplace. In the process, they displaced large pieces of the stonework and pushed them aside until they reached the darkened space that lay behind. Lestrade stepped in and illuminated the fireplace with a bright torch. Everyone leaned down to peek in and all saw the same horrific sight. A mummified human figure was curled up within, with its knees flexed and tightly pressed against its chest. The body was completely covered in brown, leatherlike skin, but its skeletal head had no recognizable features.
“Oh, my god!” Hawke gasped, his face losing color.
Delvecchio quickly brought a hand up to his lips to suppress a wave of nausea.
The rest of us had seen our fair share of dead bodies in various conditions and stages of decomposition, and were more interested than moved by the gruesome sight. In particular, the mummified remains were still wearing his clothes and shoes which might allow us to positively identify the corpse. Such items as a wallet would be of great importance. Of additional significance was the absence of a foul odor which indicated the body had passed through the final stages of the putrefaction process and was now skeletonized. From a forensic standpoint, this meant the corpse had to be at least two months old. But a proper, thorough examination required that the corpse be removed from its cramped hiding place.
“The body has to be taken out with great care,” I instructed Lestrade and the constables. “We are in fact dealing with little more than skin and bones.”
“How should we then proceed?” asked Lestrade.
“The corpse must be handled with kid gloves, otherwise all could fall apart,” I cautioned. “Please have the constables place their hands under the head and neck at one end and under the pelvis and knees at the other, then gently lift and place the remains on a shroud that Mr. Delvecchio will provide.”
Delvecchio rushed out and came back with a thick shroud which he spread out on the cement floor. Then he stepped back as did the rest of us, except the two constables who reached into the fireplace, but quickly withdrew their hands.
“Sir,” the taller of the two constables addressed Lestrade. “What should we do with the bricks atop the corpse’s lap?”
Lestrade turned to me. “What say you, Dr. Watson?”
I gazed into the fireplace and saw a short stack of dust-covered bricks that rested upon the corpse’s lap and pressed its arms against its torso. It required a moment for me to realize the purpose of the bricks. “I believe the bricks were so placed to prevent the dead man’s arms from dangling out of the fireplace. He was literally stuffed in.”
“How should the bricks be removed?” Lestrade asked.
Joanna quickly interjected, “With care, for they no doubt were handled by the killer who may have left his fingerprints on them.”
The constables covered the dusty
