Ashes with a Sparkle
The most exotic mysteries never include the immolation of a fellow human’s life. The most enticing mysteries are mysteries that include the mind of a man who needs what he has not: the classic mystery of thievery. Of course, it would always seem that my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and I encounter many of these. It was late in evening, December 17, 1888, that we were thrust into a macabre story of a delusional plot for money and love.
“Come now, Watson, no one will come knocking on our chamber door.” Sherlock Holmes looked disapprovingly upon me, for I had quickly gotten up to answer the door for our impending guest.
“But Holmes, you yourself have hastened to welcome our approaching guest. You perform this act whenever you deduce a guest come upon your residence.” I looked at Holmes hoping I proved the point that I was correct.
Holmes smiled. “Yes, Watson, you are correct in assuming that someone is coming to our door. Look out the window.”
I looked out. “Aha!” While looking at Holmes, Holmes smiled, and then looked at the door. Someone knocked on the door.
“Watson,” Holmes asked, “please, open the door.”
I opened the door.
“Holmes, ol’ boy, thank God you’re home.” Inspector Lestrade walked in looking very flustered.
“Whatever is the matter Inspector?” Holmes asked. He took Inspector Lestrade by the shoulder and sat him down.
“Why, Holmes, a mortuary has been robbed!” Inspector Lestrade looked at Holmes while Holmes puffed on his pipe. “Who in this country would want to rob a funeral home?” Inspector Lestrade bellowed to the wall.
“Inspector, where is this funeral home?” Holmes inquired.
Inspector Lestrade looked up as he broke out of a reverie. “It is near Trafalgar Square. It is run by a poor unmarried lady named Regina Sullivan.”
I looked at Holmes and he nodded.
“Good Inspector, would you mind accompanying me and Dr. Watson to Miss Sullivan’s mortuary?” Holmes took his jacket off the rack and draped over his arm.
“But Holmes, I’ve already met up with Miss Sullivan,” informed Inspector Lestrade. “She could not have done it for anything. I am sure of it!”
Holmes put his coat on gestured for me to follow. “Well Inspector, we must interrogate Miss Sullivan to prove if she has committed the crime.”
As I put on my coat, I saw Inspector Lestrade glare most impudently at Holmes.
“Here we are Holmes.” Inspector Lestrade waved his hand in front of a dilapidated two-story shop. Very few people where out, seeing that the weather was extremely bitter and that it was nearing Christmastime.
Holmes carefully looked upon the structure for a few moments while tapping his cane upon the cobblestone road. “Hmm. This lady is many months behind in her rent, has ragged clothing and chiefly works in the realm of cremation,” Holmes told us. Inspector Lestrade looked bewildered as Holmes walked calmly towards the door of the building.
“Good Lord, Holmes, how did you know that?” Inspector Lestrade asked, still with a truly perplexed look plastered on his face.
The three of us stopped on the front steps of the building. “Well, Inspector, I deduced that Miss Sullivan was behind on her rent from the notices her landlord places on the knocker on the door. Miss Sullivan has ragged clothing from the clothes that are hanging out of the second story-window to dry, which are very shabby, which incidentally leads up to the fact that she is a cremator because her clothes are soiled with a fine ash-like dust which can only be produced by the cremated remains of a person or fireplace ash, but because there is no chimney leading to a fireplace, she must cremate her patrons.” A curious silence ensued in which Inspector Lestrade and I pondered the thinking of Holmes.
“Astounding,” Inspector Lestrade whispered. Holmes walked up to the door and grabbed the knocker and propelled it sharply into the door to create a hollow reverberation that chilled the very core of soul. As I shivered in response to the knock on the entrance, I still noted the resentful look upon Inspector Lestrade’s face.
Inside the building, shuffling and clanging could be heard. The door opened and a young lady walked out. She was dressed in a dusty coat and a long dress. She looked surprised at the sight of Inspector Lestrade.
“Why, Inspector, you’re back!” Regina Sullivan looked at Inspector Lestrade and smiled and then turned her attention worriedly at Holmes and me. “Who are your acquaintances?” Miss Sullivan demanded with a visage partly clouded with misgivings.
“My name is Sherlock Holmes, and my acquaintance is Dr. John Watson.”
“Regina, uh, Miss Sullivan, may I, um, we encroach on your hospitality?” Inspector Lestrade shakily sputtered with a feeble smile.
“Of course Inspector. Please, come in.” Miss Sullivan directed the three of us into her untidy home. In what seemed to double as sitting room and office, we took seats. “Would anyone like a spot o’ tea? I’ll go make some right now, is that-”
“Miss Sullivan, you were robbed?” Holmes cut off Miss Sullivan with steely force.
There was a pause as Miss Sullivan glared momentarily at Holmes only to drop her scowl because of the acidly deductive stare of Sherlock Holmes. “Um, yes. Yes I-I was robbed Mr. Holmes,” said the flustered Miss Sullivan. Holmes nodded, stood up, and looked around the room.
“Miss Sullivan, how large is your apartment?” Holmes inquired.
Miss Sullivan looked at Holmes intently, as if she was trying to peer into the clockworks of Holmes’ mind. She straightened herself up and started. “There are four levels to my apartment. Two above ground, two beneath ground. The top floor is where my quarters are situated. This floor, the ground level one, has this sitting room, my office, and a galley. The first floor underground has the funeral parlor. And the last floor has an incinerator for cremation.”
“So, you do crema-” Holmes stopped talking and looked keenly upon Miss Sullivan’s hand. “Miss Sullivan, where did you get that ring? That diamond ring?”
Regina Sullivan looked at a wonderfully crafted diamond and then nervously hid her hand in her coat pocket. “I got the ring, uh, from a, a ring company. Um… De Beers. I got the ring from De Beers.”
Holmes looked curiously at me and then at Inspector Lestrade. “De Beers you said? Watson, is De Beers not still a fledging diamond company situated in South Africa?”
“Why yes, I do believe so. I also do believe it still chiefly mining,” I responded. I looked at Miss Sullivan with an unpleasant feeling deep down.
Holmes stood firm and looked firm at Miss Sullivan’s hidden hand. “Miss Sullivan, where did you get the money for one of the few manufactured De Beers diamonds?
Your attire and your landlord’s notices about your rent does not support the fact that you have enough money to purchase such a gift. Also, how did you even know of De Beers’s existence? It’s not even a year old.”
“Well, Mr. Holmes, I… know a, my, uh…” Miss Sullivan’s voice trailed off.
Inspector Lestrade looked anxiously at Miss Sullivan. “Miss Sullivan, where did you get the ring? Please tell us.”
The three male occupants of the room stared apprehensively at Regina Sullivan. Miss Sullivan herself looked ready to bawl, but at the same time she looked very determined to hold her ground. For how long she stayed adamantly quiet was up in the air. It seemed like many minutes had elapsed before Miss Sullivan conceded to the inevitable.
“Alright. I’ll tell you. A man, a man named, uh, Gregory Aldridge. He, um, told me about De Beers and he, um, gave me the ring.” Miss Sullivan sat numb for a moment and then masked her countenance with her hands, which were out her pockets, and started to cry silently.
Holmes looked solemnly and quizzically at Miss Sullivan. He redirected his stare to a blank wall and mouthed the name “Gregory Aldridge” silently. I wrote that name down seeing that we were more than likely going to pay a visit to a Mr. Gregory Aldridge.
But over across the room, Inspector Lestrade was patting Miss Sullivan’s shoulder tenderly and saying “Oh, Regina. It is all right. I am here.”
“Well, Miss Sullivan, can we get back to the issue your residence being robbed?” Holmes asked impatiently. He withdrew his gaze from Miss Sullivan and Inspector Lestrade to other points of interest in his room.
Now, not that I would assume anything, but it seems that Holmes was thinking back to a Ms. Irene Adler, the only woman to whom he had ever give his supreme admiration.
Miss Sullivan extracted her grieving face from her hands and dried her tears. “Of course, Mr. Holmes, we will get back to the robbery.”
Holmes seemed very much relieved. “Thank you. Now, what was stolen?”
“Well, over ten people’s cremated remains were stolen.”
“So, whoever stole the ashes stole them from the families?” I asked.
Holmes nodded and then looked down the stairs leading to the underground level. “Miss Sullivan, at what time did you report the robbery?”
Miss Sullivan looked very surprised. “Oh, uh, I was not the one who reported it.”
Holmes diverted his stare from the stairwell to Miss Sullivan. “You did not report it?” Miss Sullivan nodded in reply to Holmes’s question.
“Then who did?” I asked.
“A neighbor. She told me about yesterday morning. A man came into my house while I was sleeping and came out with many small boxes,” Miss Sullivan answered.
“But there seems that there is no sign of a forced entry,” I said with confusion scampering rampant in my mind.
“Do you know who committed this foul atrocity?” Inspector Lestrade asked.
“No.”
There was a silence while Holmes sat and mulled over the facts in his mind. Miss Sullivan was deathly quiet as Inspector Lestrade and I traded mildly nervous glances.
Suddenly, Holmes spoke aloud. “Watson, Inspector, I think we must pay a visit to Gregory Aldridge, and ask him about the beautiful gift he bestowed on Miss Sullivan.”
Mr. Gregory Aldridge was a tall, lean, and dangerous looking man. His house, at first glance, conveyed that he was serious about work. It was well kept, the antithesis of Miss Regina Sullivan’ home. It was in the rolling hills, a wee bit out of London, and was made of two buildings. One of the buildings was smaller, maybe made for living in, and the other looked very much like a small-one-man industrial factory.
When the three of us walked up to Mr. Aldridge’s residence, he was outside walking from one of the two buildings.
“Mr. Gregory Aldridge, I presume.” Holmes walked up to Aldridge and extended his sinewy hand.
Aldridge looked curiously at the three of us while keeping his hand at his side. “Hello.” Aldridge’s look slowly transformed into suspicion as he his gaze settled on Inspector Lestrade. “May I ask your name?”
“Ah, of course. My name is Sherlock Holmes, this is Dr. John Watson, and this is Scotland Yard Inspector G. Lestrade.” Aldridge nodded and took Holmes’ hand and shook it.
“What brings you down to my home? I have never been graced with a Scotland Yard inspector.” Aldridge looked more distressed now than cautious and mistrustful with Inspector Lestrade sauntered toward the front of our group.
“Mr. Aldridge, have you ever met a Regina Sullivan?” Inspector Lestrade asked firmly, albeit with a flutter of his eyelids at the mention of Regina Sullivan’s name.
Aldridge looked suspicously at Inspector Lestrade and Holmes. “Who?”
Holmes smiled. “A Miss Regina Sullivan. A mortuary director near Trafalgar Square.”
At this point, Aldridge started to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet. “No, I have never met such a lady.” He indignantly looked over Holmes. “Now, if would excuse me, I have work to do.”
Inspector Lestrade now stood with determination in between Aldridge and the workshop. “You have not answered my question. Do you know a Miss Regina Sullivan?”
“No, Inspector Lestrade, I do not,” whispered Aldridge coldly. “Now, I state again, I have work to conclude.”
“Ah, yes, Mr. Aldridge,” Holmes said as he started to grin jovially, “What do you do for a living?” Holmes started to look over Aldridge and the small factory building.
“I am a gem cutter. I cut diamonds, rubies, emeralds, saph-” Aldridge was cut off by Holmes.
“A diamond cutter?” Holmes inquired. Aldridge nodded. “So you are skilled in refining diamonds into beautiful gems worth a fine amount of money?”
“Yes, Mr. Holmes, I do refine diamonds,” Aldridge said defiantly.
“Where did you learn those skills?” I asked, hoping my assumption was correct.
“The company De Beers. Down in South Africa. They employ my brother. He has told me how to form diamonds and how to cut diamonds.” Holmes stood stunned as Aldridge finished.
“Form diamonds?” I asked in disbelief.
Aldridge uneasily cleared his throat. “Yes, Dr. Watson, I can form diamonds.”
“But how? Diamonds I know are made out of carbon underground, but how can you make diamonds?” I asked, still very bewildered.
Aldridge forced a pained smile.
After approximately two minutes of standing in an area immersed in silence, Holmes spoke: “Mr. Aldridge, would you mind showing me your workshop?” Holmes started to walk towards the workshop.
Aldridge gulped very nervously as he nodded yes in reply.
“Watson, Inspector Lestrade, please wait out here while I tour Mr. Aldridge’s residence.” Holmes walked with a energetic stride, while Aldridge sulked towards the workshop. When they finally entered the building, Inspector Lestrade turned to ask me a question.
“Watson, what was your impression of Miss Sullivan?”
“Hmm,” I pondered a loud. “Well, Inspector, she seemed like she was hiding something.” It was then, though, that I noticed Inspector Lestrade looked slightly distressed, but for what reason, I did not know.
“Well, yes she might have been hiding something about the diamond ring. But I mean did you see anything, uh, attractive about her, Watson?” Inspector Lestrade looked over the rolling hills with just the corners of his mouth traversing higher.
I thought, though, that Inspector Lestrade might have been teasing me with such a outrageous comment. Now, not that Miss Sullivan was abnormal or anything of the sort, but I have learned extensively from Holmes never to trust anyone who cannot honestly support their actions. When she guiltily hid her hand with the ring on it, I figured two people looking for money conjured up some nefarious plot. But Inspector Lestrade had a point. Apart from her clothing’s and property’s decrepit state, she did posses many, well, attractive features. But seeing that I am married makes it impossible for me to see any woman other than my wife as beautiful.
“Well, Watson, what do you think of-”
“Watson, Inspector, please follow me.” Holmes rushed out of Aldridge’s workshop looking very distraught.
“Holmes, whatever is the matter!” Inspector Lestrade yelled out. We met Holmes on the run and signaled a passing carriage.
“We must get back to Miss Sullivan. She is undoubtedly in grave danger,” Holmes whispered grimly.
Inspector Lestrade turn a miserable shade of white. “Holmes,” he said slowly as the three of boarded the carriage, “what did you say will happen to Regina?”
Holmes sat on the musty carriage seat. “Well, Inspector, I assume Miss Sullivan is in grave danger because Mr. Aldridge now knows that she has told us of their connection.”
Both Inspector Lestrade and I looked at each other with a mask of severity tightly secured to our faces. “What do you mean?” I asked.
Holmes looked from me to Inspector Lestrade. “Both Miss Regina Sullivan and Gregory Aldridge have concocted a plot to make themselves richer then the Ottoman Empire.”
Inspector Lestrade’s face was white with horror. “Miss Sulli-Sullivan…”
“Yes, Inspector, Miss Sullivan.”
I tried to piece the ideas together but could not. “Holmes, how did you deduce such an shocking idea?”
Holmes smiled wearily. “Well, Watson, it is quite simple.”
I skeptically concurred.
“Inspector, you might want to listen,” Holmes said.
Inspector Lestrade said nothing.
“Well, the first clue was the fact that Miss Sullivan cremated people. Watson, what element are all of us primarily made of?”
“Carbon.”
“Yes, Watson, thank you. Now, what element makes diamonds, Inspector?”
Inspector Lestrade looked at Holmes. “Carbon.”
“Exactly. Now, I think all of us knew that Miss Sullivan was lying about the ring. But what was curious was how a neighbor reported the robbery and that there was no signs of a forced entry. Mr. Aldridge explains that.” Holmes looked expectantly at Inspector Lestrade and me.
“Wait Holmes, how does Aldridge explain that?” Inspector Lestrade asked innocently.
Holmes was still looking over the both us. Then it dawned on me. “They were having an affair,” I whispered with a deathly quietness.
Inspector Lestrade’s expression went from oblivious to deflated. “An affair?”
“Yes, Inspector, an affair.” Holmes looked at the lost and heartbroken Inspector Lestrade.
“But how did Aldridge make the diamonds?” I asked.
“By incinerating the cremated remains to make a form of graphite. Aldridge then placed the graphite under extreme pressure and heat. Then by making use of his normal profession, he cut the diamonds to the clarity in Miss Sullivan’s diamond.” Holmes laid back and smoked his pipe. He did this for a few minutes while I thought over what Holmes said and while Inspector Lestrade said numbly.
Breaking the icy silence, Inspector Lestrade asked Holmes a question that was bound to come into this conversation: “Holmes, why is Regina in grave danger? What could Aldridge do to her?”
Holmes puffed one final puff on his pipe and lowered it thoughtfully from his lips. “Inspector, Aldridge could easily go and incinerate Miss Sullivan in her own home using Miss Sullivan’s equipment. Or, he could just murder her in a normal fashion, which I am sure you are acquainted with.”
Inspector Lestrade gulped nervously.
“Hmm, Watson, what do you think?” Holmes looked over Regina Sullivan’s building.
I grunted to acknowledge I heard him, but no clue crossed my vision.
“Well, we can assume someone has recently visited, who probably is a man, works with rocks, specially diamonds, and who has not yet left this building,” Holmes said.
Inspector Lestrade numbly opened his mouth in amazement. “Why do say that Holmes?” Inspector Lestrade said hoarsely.
“Well, someone has recently visited because there are fresh footprints, which are wet from the remaining snow there on the road. It is a man because the footprints are too large to be a woman’s and there are scrapes in the road formed by rocks, lodged in the sole of the shoe. He has not left yet because there are no fresh scrape marks coming in our direction.”
Inspector Lestrade sighed with relief. “So she might be alive?”
“Yes, Inspector, she might be.” Holmes stood puffing his pipe. “Inspector, Watson let us go check that Miss Sullivan is all right. Watson, Inspector please draw your service pistols.”
Inspector Lestrade and I withdrew our pistols as we walked cautiously toward the door. Holmes arrived first and knocked. There was no response. There was no noise.
Holmes looked puzzled. “Inspector, would you mind if I broke the door down?”
Inspector Lestrade nodded feverishly. Holmes and Inspector Lestrade walked up to the door and destroyed the door. Holmes motioned for Inspector Lestrade to go first.
We all looked around. The room was ravaged. The couches and chairs that we all sat on two hours before were overturned. Some of the furniture was gashed with what seemed to be a large dagger.
“Holmes, do you know where she is?” Inspector Lestrade asked worriedly.
“Inspector, I only know one thing: Miss Sullivan is not here, but with Mr. Gregory Aldridge.”
“How do know that, Holmes?” I asked.
“Look, Watson.” Holmes pointed towards a small window, large enough for one person at a time to go through, over in the corner of the room. It was broken.
“Well, where do we go, Holmes?” Inspector Lestrade looked up to Holmes for reassurance.
“There is only one person to go back to: Gregory Aldridge.”
Gregory Aldridge’s home seemed undisturbed. Nothing was different from when they left an hour ago.
“Holmes, are you absolutely sure Regina is here?” Inspector Lestrade looked at the untouched landscape surrounding Aldridge’s home.
“Yes, Inspector, I am positive.”
Inspector Lestrade nodded in a fashion to suggest that he sincerely placed his trust in Holmes.
I spoke up to suggest a course of action. “Shall we go in?”
Holmes nodded. “But use extreme caution. I daresay Aldridge is armed with a formidable switchblade.”
We acknowledged Holmes and walked in. We were greeted by the shrieking of Aldridge.
“Good Lord, Regina! That freak Sherlock Holmes will be here with all of London’s police force. We will be arrested and jailed for the bloody remainder of our bloody lives.”
We walked in on Aldridge screeching over the crouched and cringing Regina Sullivan. He was swinging a twelve-centimeter switchblade all over the place. I situated myself in a direct line of sight of Aldridge. Inspector Lestrade was creeping toward Miss Sullivan. Holmes stood five meters away directly in front of Aldridge and Miss Sullivan.
“Stop, Aldridge!” Holmes yelled. “You will not be able to harm her-”
Aldridge eyes nearly exploded out of his eye sockets. “Shut the bloody hell up Holmes!” He picked up Sullivan by the arm and held the blade to her trachea. “I have no problem killing her. It will end my misery. And hers.”
Holmes calmly crept towards Aldridge. “Aldridge, you do not want-”
“Holmes, shut up! You have no right to say what I want to do! I have no problem making money off of dead peoples’ remains. They are dead! And if you get any closer,
Miss Sullivan will be dead!”
“Aldridge, using cremated remains for your own personal gain is considered stealing. And killing Miss Sullivan will not end your misery. It will only aggravate it. You will be charged with murder and will never leave prison.”
Aldridge reluctantly let Miss Sullivan out of his grip. “Then I will end my misery.” He placed the dagger up to a jugular vein. “I will kill myself. I do not want to live in my life. I have no life. My wife has left, I am falling into debt, I am, I am…” He started to slump down only to be caught by Inspector Lestrade.
Inspector Lestrade checked Aldridge’s pulse. “He has fainted.” Inspector Lestrade hoisted him up onto his shoulder.
Holmes walked up to Miss Sullivan. “Will you please come with me?” Holmes’s calmly and decisively given order made Miss Sullivan get up slowly. Miss Sullivan grabbed Holmes’s outstretched hand.
Miss Sullivan held her hand up to dismiss anyone’s talking. “I know I will be charged with the robbery of the cremated remains, but please, do not try to intervene on my behalf. I will face the consequences.”
Holmes looked at me and we walked towards the door. “We will summon a carriage, and we will wait for you,” Holmes said slowly. Inspector Lestrade and Miss Sullivan nodded. We left.
Walking out, Holmes asked me if we solved the mystery.
“Well, Holmes, I would say we solved the mystery. The conspirators have been caught, and they will not be able to continue their dastardly work.” I stopped walking and looked at Holmes. “So, yes I do think we solved the mystery.”
“Really, Watson? We destroyed a relationship that could have blossomed into a beautiful love.”
“Well, Holmes, I do not think there was a real relationship between Aldridge and Sulli-”
“Watson, not that affair, but that relationship.” Holmes pointed to Inspector Lestrade and Miss Sullivan, who just walked out. Miss Sullivan was looking at Inspector Lestrade with an expression of true infatuation.
“Oh.” I looked at the Inspector and at Miss Sullivan to comprehend Holmes’s point.
Inspector Lestrade walked up and flagged a passing carriage. “We have reconciled. She will serve time, along with Aldridge.”
Miss Sullivan nodded.
As Inspector Lestrade and Miss Sullivan seated themselves in the carriage, I turned to face Aldridge’s home. “Well, Holmes, I guess that is the end of other solved case.”
“Yes, Watson, it is the end.”
Sometimes mysteries include murder, or at least the threat of it, to make it more impressive. By some of the mysteries that Sherlock Holmes and I solve, do not include the destruction of a human life. They include lust: either for another human, or for another human’s possessions. And it makes a mystery all the more impressive.