Why Mermaids Sing

Chapter 26

Sebastian found Sir Henry seated behind his desk in Queen Square. The magistrate had his head bowed, his forehead furrowed by a frown as he scribbled furiously on a notepad.

“I heard about Lieutenant Bellamy,” said Sebastian as soon as the clerk Collins had bowed himself out.

Sir Henry removed the small set of spectacles he wore perched on the end of his nose and rubbed the bridge. “It’s puzzling. Most puzzling. There was no mutilation of the body, and the young man was killed by a knife wound to the side. Yet the presence of that mandrake root surely links his murder to the other three.”

“I would have said so.”

Sir Henry picked up a volume from his desktop and rose from his chair. “When I saw him on the docks, Sir James was dismissive of my conclusions. I then spoke to his colleagues Aaron Graham and Sir William and presented them with my notes on the case. Both agreed the evidence suggests the death of Mr. Nicholas Thornton may well be linked to the murders of Mr. Carmichael and Mr. Stanton. However, they remain skeptical of the relevance of the poem by John Donne. They therefore agree with Sir James that the docks killing is unrelated to the other three.”

Sebastian watched the magistrate lock the volume away in a glass-fronted case beside the door. “And they’ve taken over the investigation.”

“Yes. It was inevitable, given the breadth of the case.”

Sebastian nodded. Bow Street was the first public office formed in London, back in 1750. The original Bow Street magistrate had been Henry Fielding, followed by his brother John. Together the brothers had been so successful at stemming the rampant spread of crime in the growing metropolitan area that another half dozen public offices were established in 1792, including the one at Queen Square. But of them all, only the magistrates of Bow Street exercised authority over the entire metropolitan area and beyond. Bow Street’s famous Runners operated the length of England.

“My jurisdiction is limited,” Sir Henry was saying. “Technically I should have contacted Bow Street after our discoveries in Kent.”

Sebastian watched Sir Henry resume his seat behind the desk. “So what can you tell me about Adrian Bellamy?”

“Little you won’t be able to read in the papers, I’m afraid. The young man was from Greenwich. His father is one Captain Edward Bellamy.”

“Also a Navy man?”

“No. Retired merchant captain.” Sir Henry hesitated, then said, “The differences in the murders are considerable. Not simply in the manner of killing and the lack of mutilation, but in other ways, as well. Bellamy was left where he fell, in the shadow of one of the warehouses beside the docks. There was no public display of the remains, no flaunting of what had been done.”

“Perhaps the killer was pressed for time,” Sebastian suggested.

Lovejoy carefully fitted his spectacles back on his face. “You may be right. You were certainly correct about the mandrake root. It’s as if the killer deliberately skipped that line of the poem, fully intending to return to it later. But why?”

“Because Bellamy’s ship was out of port. The designated victim was beyond his reach.”

Sir Henry looked at Sebastian over the top of the spectacles. “You think he’s putting his victims in some sort of order?”

“So it would appear.”

“‘Teach me to hear mermaids singing,’” whispered Sir Henry.

“What?”

“It’s the next line of the poem. ‘Teach me to hear mermaids singing.’ If he’s putting his victims in order, he must already have the next one selected.”

Sebastian blew out his breath in a harsh sigh. “And Bow Street doesn’t believe any of it.”