The Classified Dossier: Sherlock Holmes and Count Dracula(58)

“Gunshot wound,” Holmes murmured as he examined the body. “This much blood from the gunshot wound means he was certainly alive when shot, making the bullet, not the vampire, the cause of death… Curious. Still, there are multiple bites, with marks of lip rouge both on his mouth and on the bites. There are several more on the collar of his shirt, some of them quite faded. Please bring the light closer, Doctor; I do not have your eyes. There, yes. There are marks on his hands consistent with constant digging, which confirms his employment.”

When Holmes had finished his careful examination with the swiftness that was particular to him, he said, “I agree with Miss Winter. Lividity and rigor are both normal. No signs of transformation or infection. Watson?”

“I concur,” I said. “There will be no complications about a burial, at least.” The catatonic state of an infected body, with the absence of both bloat and rot, would be a much milder smell in that case.

“Very good,” Holmes said. “Perhaps the interior of the grave will still hold something of interest.” Holmes took the lantern down into the grave to look at the ground where the man had lain.

“A funeral is bad enough, ain’t it?” Kitty Winter said, appearing suddenly at my elbow. “But better that than a funeral where your dearly departed tries to open your throat and don’t we both know it? Not that I wouldn’t have liked to try and bury dear old Adelbert once and for all, only I ain’t never got the chance.” She caught my eye and I could not quite meet that feral, blazing gaze.

“You make me wonder anew,” I said to her, “the wisdom of having vampires take part in a watch over their own.”

“Do those doubts include yourself?” she said hotly. “Or just those of us from the gutter?”

“Of course they include my own person,” I said. “How could they not?”

“Who else could you give a duty like this to?” she said with a bitter humour in her voice. “Who else better knows the dangers? Who else would stand for it? I don’t mind, though. Least I got Somersby to get butcher’s blood for me and a place to sleep during the day. Better than the poor sod that did this. Mr Holmes will give them a pretty ending, won’t he? Rotter is as good as staked already.”

“We will do what we must, of course,” I said coldly.

“The pearl,” Holmes said. “You found it in his pocket?”

“Yes,” Somersby said. “The other items from his pockets I have here, including the cheque and letter I mentioned. The rest don’t seem to be terribly significant, but knowing your methods, I have saved them here.” He held out a heavy envelope.

“Excellent,” Holmes said, taking it over near the lantern to examine the contents. “Hmm… a few coins in an otherwise unremarkable wallet… As you said, not much extraordinary here.”

“No, sir,” Somersby said.

“What is this? A sealskin pouch filled with… yes, ship’s tobacco…”

“It was inside there that I found the pearl,” Somersby said.

“Did you?” said Holmes. “There may be hope for you yet. Come, Watson. We have discovered all there is to learn here. Mr Somersby, Miss Winter, please continue your vigilance here in the graveyard and at the mortuaries, and alert me of any outbreaks.”

I turned back to Miss Winter, still struggling to contain the helpless anger that her words had churned up within me, only to discover that she had slipped away.





Chapter 12





FAIRVIEW HOUSE





“If we are to continue having clandestine midnight meetings in the heart of cemeteries,” Holmes said once we’d returned to Baker Street, “we shall have to locate those silk masks of yours from the Milverton affair.” Holmes lit his pipe and puffed on it luxuriously.

“What are our next steps?” I asked.

“I shall need to check the docks,” Holmes said, “to look for any sign that the Mariner Priest may have returned, possibly bringing Mary with him, which would be one explanation for the facts.”

“And the other?”

“Why, that she never left England in the first place.”

“Holmes! Surely that can’t be true. We have kept careful tabs over all the vampire activity in London. The cemeteries, the morgues, even the butcher shops?”

“Yet we have not been entirely successful,” Holmes said, “for while there have been few vampire incidents outside of the Baron Gruner affair and those directly related to the Mariner Priest, that is not the same as having none. So there are at least a few vampires that continue to remain undiscovered in London. She might be one of those. Or she may have left London for the countryside and now returned. Even our Midnight Watch cannot keep tabs on all of England. It is a Herculean enough task to attempt to do so on bustling London. It is also possible that Mary did not depart on the Mariner Priest’s ship at all. But I must make absolutely certain. The Mariner Priest has been guilty of more than a few subterfuges in his past, to say the least.” He had his pipe going well now, and was staring out into the blackness of the night.

“But, Holmes, where is Mary, then? Can we say for certain that she was the one that committed this foul murder? Could it have been a random attack?”