Peter Lovesey: A Case of Spirits

‘Eminently worthy. We had the most impressive sequence of phenomena-table-rapping, voices, messages pertaining to be from the Other Side. I preserve an open mind, of course, and so does Strathmore, but one cannot deny that certain things happened that night which are devilish difficult to explain.’

‘ Devilish is the proper word for it,’ commented Mrs Probert, looking into the fire.

She seemed to expect no return for her utterances, so Cribb went on: ‘I’ve one other question about that night, sir. It doesn’t concern the table-rapping or the voices. It might be just as significant to my inquiry, though. Did you by any chance mention to the guests your forthcoming lecture at University College Hospital?’

‘Certainly I did,’ said Probert. ‘It’s the sort of thing that comes up naturally in conversation.’

‘Of course, sir. Let’s return to Mr Brand. I believe he’s making quite a reputation as a medium. He’s much in demand, from what I understand.’

‘The whole of London will soon be clamouring to see him,’ said Probert. ‘And no wonder. He is the most promising member of his profession since D. D. Home. I had the greatest difficulty engaging him for my series of experiments. We have only got him next Saturday thanks to an outbreak of scarlet fever at Lady Millmont’s. He restricts his engagements to two a week because of the strain on his vital powers.’

‘Yet he is quite young, I understand,’ said Cribb.

‘Twenty-two, but communicating with the spirits takes a dreadful toll of a man, whatever his age. And Brand is not robust. He is quite humble in origin, the son of a Blackheath cabman, I am told, and he has the under-nourished look of the less fortunate class. It would not surprise me if he died young.’

‘Nor me,’ added Mrs Probert. ‘It would be a judgment.’

‘Where did you first meet him?’ Cribb inquired.

‘At Miss Crush’s house in Eaton Square,’ said Probert.

‘Ah, yes. The first seance. And was that just as successful as yours, sir?’

‘I’m bound to admit that it was. Some of those round the table even spoke of witnessing a materialisation, a spirit hand hovering in the air, but I missed it myself. All the audible phenomena were present. It was because they so impressed me that I invited Brand to my own house for a programme of seances on scientific principles. Naturally I invited Miss Crush, my hostess, as well.’

‘Did you invite any other members of her party?’

‘Brand, of course. Nobody else. The others at Kensington were neighbours of Miss Crush, the Bratts.’

‘I beg your pardon, sir.’

‘The Bratts, I said. Sir Hartley Bratt and his wife and daughter. Sir Hartley is ninety years of age and wouldn’t want to drive as far as Richmond even if I asked him. He has a suspect heart.’

‘At ninety, that’s not surprising,’ said Cribb. ‘I shouldn’t think communing with the spirits would be good for him either.’

‘On the contrary. He is a confirmed spiritualist. Most of his friends have passed over and keeping in touch gives him an interest in life. Well, Policeman, we seem to have ventured a long way from my stolen Etty, unless you are proposing to arrest Sir Hartley Bratt. What conclusions have you reached?’

‘Only one of any note, sir. For the present I’m assuming a connection between the thefts of your Etty and Miss Crush’s Royal Worcester vase. Each took place a matter of days after a seance at the house in question. Now lifting a picture ain’t quite the same thing as lifting a vase, I’ll admit, but it might be of significance that the thief in each case had the chance of taking something more valuable, and missed it.’

‘That’s very pertinent, now you mention it,’ said Dr Probert.

‘If it is significant, sir, the list of guests at those two seances is crucial to my inquiry. From what you tell me there was one person, and one only, who attended both seances, apart from Miss Crush and yourself.’

‘Brand,’ said Mrs Probert from her place under the palm. ‘Peter Brand, the medium.’

Miss Crush was more observant of rank than Dr Probert. ‘Sergeant,’ she said, as Cribb was announced by the maid. ‘Such excitement! Do come in, Sergeant, and let me look at you.’

He took two short steps into the room-short not from shyness, but because a rosewood table, circular in shape, barred his way. At the centre was a tall Copeland vase containing pink chrysanthemums a little past their prime. From where he stood, Miss Crush’s face regarded him through a space between the blooms. It was delicate, compact and fringed with fair, slightly dishevelled hair.

‘You have the look of a sensitive,’ said Miss Crush.

‘A detective actually, ma’am,’ Cribb gently explained.

‘Yes, but there is definitely something about you. I felt it as soon as the door opened and I feel it more strongly now. You must be a sensitive. It doesn’t prevent you from being a detective as well, you know. I should think it would be a positive advantage. What did my maid say your surname was?’

‘Cribb, ma’am.’

‘Superb! Sensitive Sergeant Cribb-how do you like that?’

‘If I’m honest, ma’am, I prefer my official rank. I’m here about your vase.’

‘Never mind that,’ said Miss Crush. ‘Do you ever notice atmospheres-when you first enter a room, for instance?’

It seemed she was not referring to the faintly stale scent of the chrysanthemums.

‘Or do you feel invisible presences?’ Miss Crush continued.

Cribb shook his head. ‘I’m strictly interested in facts, ma’am. Feelings don’t enter into it much in my job. The vase was taken last Friday evening, I believe.’

‘Yes, but it’s of no consequence now. It was not one of my better pieces. I gave a description to the young constable who called on Saturday. He was perfectly civil, but he was not a sensitive. Do you ever have visionary experiences?’

‘Not in the course of duty, ma’am. Was the vase taken from this room?’

Miss Crush got to her feet and came round the table to place a hand on Cribb’s sleeve. She was small and fortyish. She either used rouge, or the excitement of discovering a sensitive had gone to her cheeks. ‘If you will persist with your questions I shall try to answer them, but I really do not mind about the vase. It was taken a week ago last Saturday from the sideboard over there while I was at Dr Probert’s for a seance. The thief got in through the mews at the back of the house and opened a door by removing one of the panes, putting his arm through and unfastening the latch. The servants were in the kitchen and didn’t hear a thing- playing cards, I shouldn’t wonder. I got home shortly after midnight and heard about the broken pane when Annie, my parlour-maid, was locking up half an hour later. It wasn’t until morning that we found the vase had gone.’

‘Didn’t you check to see if anything was stolen after you found the window broken?’ asked Cribb, incredulously.

‘You know how it is, Sergeant. One is always wiser after the event. I was already in bed when Annie came to tell me what she had found, and I must confess that I was in a state of some perturbation about the manifestations the medium had produced at Dr Probert’s. To be frank, I was disinclined to venture downstairs by candlelight. I directed Annie to look into each of the rooms, thinking that if a burglar had visited us the fact would be only too apparent. I never suspected he would be content with a single vase, and a common piece of Worcester at that.’