The Last Confession of Sherlock Holmes Page 16

  “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 self
ish 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!”

  “There is a difference between mistrust and manipulation to an appalling degree,” said Holmes coldly. “But come, let us not play games; there is less mystery surrounding Miss Sutherland’s fate than you appreciate. It seems apparent that she has chosen a man of much higher calibre, and from your descriptions, I am sure such a woman would not find it difficult to attract a desirable suitor; after all, if she had heard of your professional predicament and read between the lines of your fickle attempts at winning her hand, why would she choose to settle for such apparent mediocrity?”

  “Mediocrity!” bellowed Kirkby leaping to his feet, hands clenched in fury. “I have never been slandered by such language in my life! If she has chosen another man, she has done herself a great disservice!”

  “Ahh, we have touched upon a nerve, have we not?” said Holmes, remaining calmly in his seat. “You claim to have no particular feeling for this woman, yet at the slightest hint that you are unworthy of her companionship, you become quite deranged. A curiously violent disposition, is it not, Watson?”

  “Most curious, Holmes,” said I.

  “You will not speak to me this way!” cried our guest.

  “Oh, I do not believe it is your ego that we are worried about upsetting, Mr Kirkby. No matter what façade you may use to try to fool us with, it is quite apparent that although you enjoyed toying with this young woman’s emotions, you were actually deeply in love with her. In your own shameful way, you may have even believed you were being charmingly aloof. A great shame to have lost her, I am sure, but fret not, I am sure she is being looked after by a far worthier candidate.”

  I cannot recall another occasion where there has been such a scene inside our quarters. Most men whom Holmes backs into their respective corners accept their plight, and submit into a state of passive inevitability; Mr Kirkby, however, displayed no signs of rationale, and we were given a violent demonstration of just how unhinged he had become. Upon Holmes’s final taunt, Kirkby flipped the delicately arranged tea-table laid by Mrs Hudson, sending the china cups and crockery crashing down upon the floor. Holmes and I were on our feet in an instant, but such was the condition of our man that it was more like engaging a wild and untamed beast. Blows were cast with such uninhibited violence that it was clear our man had become quite deranged; Holmes and I both suffered considerable knocks before we had restrained our man once more.

  “I think we should simply tie him for now,” said Holmes, wrapped around Kirkby on the floor in some form of foreign stranglehold. We tied our man’s ankles, thighs and wrists, and left him writhing upon the floor like some pathetic serpent as we regained our composure. “Now that we have indeed experienced your violence, Mr Kirkby, I would like you to entertain yet another theory of mine, for I must confess that I have been rather dishonest with you. What would you say if I were to tell you that I know exactly where your beloved Elizabeth is?”

  “Fiend! Tell me where she is this instant!”

  “I believe you already know her whereabouts, do you not, Jack.”

  “Jack? What is this? Who are you talking to?”

  “I believe I am talking to Jack the Ripper, am I not?”

  “Jack the Ripper? Are you insane?”

  “Ah, come now, Mr Kirkby, you must surely know that Miss Elizabeth Sutherland is lying, perfectly preserved, upon a stone slab in Whitechapel Mortuary. After all, are you not the man who poisoned her, and then defiled her body with nothing but a long sharp blade?”

  “You lie!” screamed Kirkby, before breaking down into sobs of unmitigated horror.

  “The victim is Elizabeth Sutherland. I would take you to see her, but I am afraid it would be a most unpleasant experience. You remember her eyes, don’t you? Those blue eyes of dazzling beauty: it really is a shame Jack the Ripper gouged them from their sockets. Who knows what he will have done with them: after all, he previously claimed to have fried and eaten a victim’s kidney.”

  “Enough,” Kirkby wept in a barely audible manner. “I am not Jack the Ripper.”

  “That is yet to be seen,” said Holmes, pacing around the slithering wreck upon our floor.

  “I was forced to reveal my secret! I don’t know how he found out but he did! He told me to make sure that you heard about my case through your little gang. I was to convince you I was losing my mind. He told me if I did not comply then he would kill Elizabeth!… and myself,” he added, as an almost insignificant afterthought.

  “Who is this man?” said Holmes, kneeling over Kirkby’s head and piercing him with his gaze.

  “I did not see him. I had been at Regent Street until a late hour; he picked me up from outside, disguised as a cabbie. He locked me inside and took me to a deserted yard. He held me at gun-point but it was an unusual weapon, with some form of strange extension upon the barrel.”

  “It was most likely a silencing device,” said I, “used for muffling the sound of a shot.”

  “Well, only the barrel and this silencing device protruded through the barrier, I could not see his face. He gave me my instructions and forced me from the cab, abandoning me in the yard. He told me if I tried to pursue him, he would not hesitate to shoot me. I had no desire to follow.”

  “Why did you not tell me this when you first entered the room instead of carrying out this foolish charade?”

  “He told me he would know if I did not comply! I did not dare risk such a chance. I was to convince you I was mad, he gave me three options Mr Holmes.”

  “Insanity, suicide or murder,” finished Holmes.

  “You know the man of whom I speak?”

  “Did he give you a name?” asked Holmes.

  “Yes… Professor James Moriarty.”

  There is little more to tell from our interview with Mr Cecil Kirkby. The man was entirely incomprehensible, such was his recent trauma. It took some time to convince him that the latest victim of Jack the Ripper was not Miss Elizabeth Sutherland. Although he would still have to accept the far more likely truth that his love had departed with another man, it was at least of some reassurance for him to know she had not been mutilated by the most infamous of criminals.

  What was of far greater significance was his final revelation: one so profound and shocking in its nature that Holmes had simply stood there silent, before retiring to his room, leaving me to deal with the broken man upon our floor. When Holmes finally re-emerged, his countenance was grave, and he was quite visibly disturbed.

  “You do not honestly believe Moriarty survived Reichenbach?” I asked as he glided silently across to the windows and drew the shutters.

  “If there was one man other than myself who could have survived such a fall, it was Moriarty.”

  “But I thought you had a plan of action? Will you allow all those hours spent with Mycroft simply to go to waste because a man whom we had not even heard of until this afternoon, claimed to have been threatened into a task by Moriarty? It could quite easily have been Moran.”

  “You are right, Watson, there is only one way to be sure, - through decisive action.”

  “Will you share this information with me?”

  “Tonight I shall be in command of my very own specially trained force. All most secret, of course: Abberline and Lestrade are not trusted with such information but they will be informed.”

  “You expect to weasel out Jack the Ripper with a team of specials?”

  “Hardly, Watson; the weaselling, as you so eloquently put it, will be entrusted to a far more suitable and far less official force.”

  “The Baker Street Irregulars?”

  “Who better to flush out a criminal than a gang of criminals? Mycroft and I have devised a plan of action which all
ows for the complete exploitation of both these agencies, and of course, we shall also have our part to play, the most dangerous of parts.”

  “Holmes, this is fantastic news!” I cried. “What is the plan?”

  “Patience, Watson, patience. First, I believe it will be an entirely worthwhile exercise if we were to recount all of the facts as we have them, to ensure that the plan is indeed viable. If you could fetch a pen and paper while I rearrange the furniture, then I shall cast my thoughts out into the air for you to catch upon your parchment.

  “Now, the first five victims were all women of the night, and all were successfully identified. None of the bodies showed any evidence of a struggle or robbery. The violence of each crime, excluding the first of the double murder, always increased with the next victim. Only upon the occasion of the double murder was there any attempt to place blame, which I believe to have been a purposeful act of arrogance and diversion. Previously I believed these crimes not to have been random but meticulously planned and executed by Professor Moriarty. Is there anything I have missed?”

  “I believe that is all the facts,” I replied.

  “Good. Now this recent victim is an anomaly. She was not a lady of the night; she has most likely been dressed to appear so, and her identity remains unknown. The victim was poisoned and taken to the scene of the crime: she was therefore not a victim of chance but of choice, though we are still none the wiser as to why this was the case.The effort taken to remove identifiable features from her person is also suggestive, and presumably there is something regarding her identity which will aid us in unmasking Jack the Ripper. Previously I would have been inclined to follow the assumption that the man Kirkby described was, in fact, Colonel Moran. But now I am not so sure, for we are still missing an agent capable of committing the recent crimes. Kirkby was a pawn: he did not have the stomach for such horrors. I am certain that he was not threatened into performing the monstrous deeds under the alias of Jack the Ripper.”

  “You believe there is a missing agent?”