Burke shook his head. “I sent round a request, but it was declined. I was given the excuse that Mr. Matthews needed to attend to business and Mrs. Matthews was not available.”
She might have taken herself off to get away from it all, I thought
“I did inquire after the appropriate mourning period and attempted to speak with them after the service at Highgate, where young Matthews was buried. It seems that business took precedence even over the burial of his son.”
“Mr. Matthews didn’t attend?” I asked, as that did seem odd.
“I thought it strange as well, but Matthews has the reputation of putting business ahead of everything else, according to those I spoke with at the time.”
He stood then, our meeting obviously at an end. “I look forward to writing that exclusive article when you solve the young woman’s murder,” he said with great humor.
When pigs fly, I thought. I just might write it myself.
I now had the name of the man at the club the night Stephen Matthews was murdered. It was possible that he had seen the murderer as well.
Or washethe murderer over some matter at the club? It was most definitely something to check up on.
I returned to the ground floor where Lily and the hound waited. There was someone else I wanted to call on before returning to Sussex Square.
Lily had previously met Mr. Brimley and found his samples in glass jars—severed hands, eyeballs, and other gruesome collections—fascinating.
She was about to be fascinated again, and I could only imagine what ideas stirred in her head.
Eleven
The rideacross London to Mr. Brimley’s shop took considerable time as it was after the noon hour and the streets were filled with trams, cabs, delivery vans, and all sorts of carts.
I thought of each of them replaced by a motor carriage of some sort and the prospect was daunting, with steam filling the air along with smoke from the coal fires of winter. Add to that the industrial smoke from the outer parts of the city.
The street traffic changed noticeably as we turned off the main thoroughfare and into the district very near the Strand, were Mr. Brimley had his shop. I asked our driver to wait as he pulled to the kerb outside the chemist’s shop.
The hound was the first to exit and bounded off down the street. This was a familiar area for him, with exciting places to explore, no doubt. Lily followed me into the shop where we were greeted by his assistant.
“Good day, Miss Forsythe. If you’re wantin’ to see Mr. Brimley, he’s in back.” She made a face. “He has a body back there wot the hospital sent over last night. He’s been at it ever since. Reminds me of that story I heard about a body being used to create a monster that went about terrifying people.”
Ah, the novelFrankenstein, written by Mary Shelley. I hadn’t made that comparison in the past. Most certainly Mr. Brimley didn’t resemble in the slightest the scientist who created the monster in the novel.
Studying eyeballs and hands was one thing, however, an entire body? I suppose there was a great deal to learn, so long as the‘body’didn’t come off the table and start terrorizing all of London.
I continued to the back of the shop which had a long counter against one wall with microscopes. His photo-imaging machine and all sorts of tools of the trade for a chemist, including pill-making machines, were there as well. Shelves behind were lined with jars of powders and other medicines that included laudanum, morphine, and opium.
In the past, I had found Mr. Brimley to be most knowledgeable in all things related to injuries and medicines. And more than once he had come to my personal aid with surgical skills that were most useful at the time. Bullets could be nasty business, as I had learned in our first inquiry case.
In the time since, he had provided assistance on more than one occasion. Brodie had known him for several years and had helped him with a situation in the past that I was not familiar with, only that it had created a deep bond of friendship in that way of those who go through things together.
As for his medical skills, Mr. Brimley had attended King’s College, but left short of receiving his certificate, for reasons that weren’t explained. As a result, he set up his shop in one of the poorer areas of London, providing care to those who often could not afford it and might have died if not for his skills in medicine.
He looked up as I entered the back of the shop and came face-to-face with the man in full-length apron with rubber gloves, enormous glasses, and a headband with a cord attached, a light gleaming from his forehead.
Then I caught a glimpse of the‘patient’laid out before him. He was obviously quite dead, with a greyish pallor, and his chest cavity gaping open.
Mr. Brimley blinked, his eyes enormous behind thick lenses. “Miss Forsythe. A pleasant surprise.”
I could not say the same for the corpse.
“A new specimen?” I commented. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“A project that I’ve undertaken to better understand the human body with the hope that I might be able to better serve people here in the East End,” he explained as he laid aside what appeared to be a surgical instrument, then removed the head lamp. He stripped off thick rubber gloves.
