Paul Gilbert - The Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes

The news of Holmes’s departure was spread further around the community by Fowler and myself informing our respective landlords whilst ensuring that others were within earshot. Satisfied that by nightfall not one resident of Leigh-on-Sea would doubt the certainty of Holmes’s departure, Fowler and I kept our appointment to meet at the Peter Boat and immediately set off for the residence of ‘Uncle Ted’ Burnley.

As it turned out Burnley lived barely a half-mile from the home of his business rival, Nathaniel Garside, in a charming cottage on the New Road. Sadly, the exterior of the cottage and its grounds were in a state of sad neglect, the garden being somewhat overgrown. As we found out, this reflected the chaotic and eccentric nature of its owner.

Burnley’s renowned liberal stance on every aspect of social and political life explained the size and nature of his household. A robust, middle-aged lady, called Mary, who answered the summons of our knock on the front door, was the cottage’s only other resident and she worked as both housekeeper and cook. However, it was to Burnley’s credit, as her employer, that she carried out her many tasks whilst displaying a most cheerful disposition and much enthusiasm.

She showed us into a cluttered drawing room and introduced us to Mr Burnley as he walked towards us from the French windows at the rear of the house. He shook us by the hand with gusto and greeted us with a warm smile, exuding charm from every pore. Without requiring prior instruction, at once Mary promised us a tray of tea, whilst Burnley cleared a couple of armchairs of books before inviting us to be seated with a wave of his arm.

‘The poor woman is constantly clearing up after me and, I must confess, it is a mostly perpetual and thankless task. However, in all other aspects I am mostly self-sufficient, so it gives her something to do!’ Mary was halfway through the door, on her way for the tea, when Burnley’s jibes caught her attention, but she seemed to appreciate his humour without taking offence.

‘I must confess that she does not appear to be terribly put upon,’ I responded in similar vein. As I was speaking, Burnley busied himself by clearing another heap of books from a chair close to mine and Fowler’s, then, perching himself on the edge of his seat he rubbed his hands together as he asked: ‘Now gentlemen, you must explain to me how I can be of service to you.’

It felt strange to be taking part in an interview and not being required to take notes. Of course, as a representative of the official force, it was second nature for Fowler to use his notebook and pencil and I, for once, was able to sit back and observe my surroundings and the gentleman we had come to interview.

Edward Burnley was a man of below average height, but of above average girth. Indeed, the ornate gold watch-chain, his pride in which he was locally renowned, seemed likely to snap a link every time he laughed. Although in his mid-sixties, he was blessed with a full head of silver hair, which had been revealed when he removed his colourful checked cap upon entering the room, and this was complemented by a similarly textured beard and moustache. His small brown eyes sparkled from behind the lenses of a pair of steelrimmed spectacles.

Before Fowler or myself could respond to Burnley’s offer of assistance he enlarged upon his question by adding:

‘Naturally, I am surprised to receive such a visit, Inspector. I understood that your investigations in Leigh had been concluded and I was equally certain that Mr Holmes’s return to London indicated that your own interest in the tragic loss of the Alicia was at an end also. Doctor Watson, I am gratified to see, however, that neither of you has been put off by the reputation for ruthlessness which Nathaniel Garside has so justifiably earned.’

‘So, you understand the purpose behind our visit, then?’ Fowler said quietly.

‘Well, Inspector, I felt certain that it would not be a social visit!’ Burnley said with his customary red-faced chuckle.

Before we could continue further Mary returned to the room bearing a tray of tea and scones. She stood before Burnley with a frown, indicating the clutter on an occasional table next to him. With mumbled apologies, Burnley hastily removed the offending objects and poured the tea himself after Mary had bustled from the room.

After we had each consumed a scone and taken a sip of tea, Fowler responded to Burnley in a manner that certainly surprised me.

‘To be candid then, sir, at the outset of my investigation I had been hampered in performing my duty by both Garside’s reputation and his undoubted influence both on the local community and my own superiors.

‘However, certain arguments put forward by Mr Holmes have convinced me that there may be more than an element of truth in old man Lomas’s original statement, despite its apparently implausible assertions. In fact, I can now readily admit that my desire to further my own career, by pleasing my superiors, has led to an innocent man’s incarceration, the suffering of his family and the destroying of his reputation. I am certain that, but for Mr Holmes’s intervention, these wrongs would not have been righted.’ In a state of red-faced embarrassment Fowler paused for a moment.

‘You do realize, Inspector, that in accepting Lomas’s version of events you are acknowledging the probability that the Alicia had been deliberately scuppered?’ Burnley asked.

‘I do,’ Fowler replied emphatically.

‘Equally, I am sure you are aware that the likely culprit would prove to be none other than the Alicia ’s owner, Nathaniel Garside. Therefore you have come to me, his well-known business rival, in the hope that I might provide you with a credible motive.’ There was no hint of admonishment in Burnley’s voice, indeed, he seemed to be full of admiration for Fowler’s honesty.

‘You have a full and accurate grasp of the situation, Mr Burnley,’ Fowler replied, raising his eyes to him in hopeful expectantly.

‘Well then, you should be glad to hear that I might just be able to provide you with the information that you require.’ The sparkle returned to Burnley’s eyes and he helped himself to some more of his tea.

At Burnley’s words I was at once filled with the thrill of anticipation, although I am ashamed to admit that it was more at the thought of Holmes’s reaction to my supplying vital information for once, rather than the actual prospect of Burnley’s imminent statement.

‘Despite my well-publicized misgivings regarding the ethics behind the majority of Garside’s business dealings, the local community still regard him with misguided trust and respect. However, one could equally put this down to fear, when you bear in mind how many people within the community depend upon him for their livelihood. His business interests range from numerous shops, boatyards, “mushers”, or cockle-sheds, to a controlling interest in the gas company. In this last capacity, and to his credit, he was instrumental in the laying on of gas and public street-lighting, and he has undoubtedly improved the local highways during his chairmanship of the parish council.

‘Unfortunately, none of this seems to be enough for him. His employees are grotesquely underpaid and maltreated and, because he just happens to be their landlord, they are forced to live in horrendously sordid conditions, paying nearly all of their paltry wages for the privilege!’

‘It does not seem to me that a man in his eminent position should need to bother himself with the disposal of an antique and redundant vessel,’ I conjectured. ‘Much less the fate of a rum-sodden old seaman.’

‘I agree with you sir!’ Burnley responded. ‘Yet I have, subsequently, discovered that Lloyd’s are liable to pay considerable compensation for the Alicia ’s untimely loss, and before you ask me why a man of his wealth should go to such lengths and take such risks merely to realize an old insurance policy, I shall tell you.