Edward Kane, Advocate in The Hanged Man. Chapter 17: ‘Death. Again.’

Edward Kane, Advocate in The Hanged Man. Chapter 17: ‘Death. Again.’ (Illustration: Lesley-Anne Barnes Macfarlane)

Kane was puzzled. Why was he admitting to this? Why now? The older brother was scowling now. He pointed at the spread of cards in the table. He shook his head: ‘Death… again…’

Kane closed his eyes. The room had taken on a dream-like quality. He looked over at Phipps, his instructing solicitor, who was now sitting apparently frozen, his pen suspended in air, resembling a waxwork in Madame Tussaud’s Baker Street Bazaar.

The younger Balloch was sitting, nodding and… what was that look on his face? Was he grinning? Smirking? The older Balloch stood at the table fussing over his cards. Kane had the sudden thought of being a helpless fly caught in the web of two malevolent spiders. The younger doctor broke the spell: ‘I’m afraid, my brother, that we may well have been found out.’ The older brother fussed over the cards: ‘Death. Again.’ He looked at Kane. ‘The cards no doubt foretell the end… the end of my captivity here.’ He frowned, then produced his watch from his pocket and studied it: ‘Look at the time, gentlemen. Time, I think, to summon the warder. I assume that my transport to the court has been arranged?’

Edward Kane, Advocate in The Hanged Man. Chapter 17: ‘Death. Again.’ (Illustration: Lesley-Anne Barnes Macfarlane)

The solicitor, Mr Phipps, had been silent during the entirely of the revelations, but shook himself out of it and felt compelled to speak now. He looked across to Alexander Balloch: ‘But… but… Dr Balloch… you have both just confessed that the whole thing… the whole thing… was…’

The younger Balloch smirked and shook his head: ‘My dear, Mr Phipps, I have done no such thing. Everything that the Advocate, Mr Kane has suggested today may be quite true. That is conceded.’ He nodded towards Kane: ‘My congratulations, sir, on assembling a difficult puzzle. But,’ he held up his finger to accentuate his point, ‘but what you heard was not a confession.’ He grinned. ‘Was it, Mr Kane?’

The young Advocate narrowed his eyes for a moment. And then, with a realisation, nodded and gave a small sigh. Balloch pointed to Kane and then to the solicitor: ‘I shall let the Advocate earn his corn.’

Kane looked over at the solicitor: ‘It was not a confession, Mr Phipps. It was part of a consultation…’

The younger Balloch grinned: ‘Meaning?’

‘… meaning that both you and I, Mr Phipps, are bound by our oaths of confidentiality in respect of what we have just heard.’

A broad smile on Balloch’s face: ‘And who, pray, are you allowed to tell about anything that you have just heard?’

Kane said nothing for a moment, then: ‘No-one. We can tell no-one at all.’

The older brother, Jack Balloch, called over: ‘And did I forget to mention that I knew what I was doing when I gave our old father that fatal dose? Doddery old fool. At the end, he was good to neither man nor beast. But no need to tell anyone that.’ He laughed: ‘I’ve already been found guilty of killing him. What more can they do to me?’

The younger brother, Alexander Balloch got up from his chair and stretched his problematic back: ‘Shall we get our coats? Mustn’t keep those judges waiting…’

*****

Just as Edward Kane thought that the situation could not become any more surreal, he found himself standing waiting in the muddy, crowded courtyard of Calton Jail compelled to make polite conservation with a man who had just admitted to poisoning his father, had been hanged ‘until dead’, had been apparently revived and who was now about to be the subject of a court hearing, the likes of which had not been heard in over a hundred years.

They stood there and waited for the cart that would ferry Dr Jack Balloch to court – and freedom? The prisoner was in good spirits: ‘I meant to say that you seemed awfully vexed the other day, Mr Kane, when I read your cards…’ The young Advocate – keen not to engage – tried to keep it short: ‘I do not care for divination, Dr Balloch.’ The doctor continued – whether Kane wanted to hear it or not: ‘It was the “Death” card, wasn’t it, Mr Kane? To the un-initiated, I can understand why that might appear problematic and perhaps somewhat frightening. However,’ and here he gave a broad smile, ‘the Death card has many meanings. Not least, the prospect of “release”. Release from worries, or from financial woes, or from a difficult situation. In the Death card, Mr Kane, you should understand that it is the problem that “dies” – not the person.’ He gave a little chuckle. ‘I have been drawing the card all day. No doubt, because we are about to see my release – on account of your excellent legal submissions, sir.’

This last comment made Kane squirm (not a little). He had yet to formulate the acceptable reason for his possible withdrawal from acting to be put before the collection of testy judges ahead.

This stilted conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the horse and cart. The conveyance to court comprised a driver in the box and two police escorts inside, both stovepipe-hatted in blue jackets with brass buttons.

The driver jumped down: ‘Apologies, gentlemen. We’re going slow today.’ He gave the horse’s neck an affectionate slap: ‘When Maggie here has one of her crabbit days, then – watch out.’ On hearing this, Balloch nudged Kane and hissed: ‘You hear that, Kane – it is a sign! They have brought a “Maggie” to secure my freedom.’ He winked: ‘Although, this Maggie does not look “Half-Hangit”.’ He guffawed. Balloch turned to the warder behind him and held up his hands: ‘I wonder, good sir, if you could remove these manacles? I rather think that the two police officers inside the cart will be sufficient to secure my safe delivery to the courts. And I can assure you – I have no desire to escape. I know that my release is imminent now.’ The warder gave an inquiring look to the police officers on the cart. They looked back and gave a couple of indifferent nods. Their daily stock-in-trade would involve violent criminals, so a genteel middle-aged doctor was unlikely to tax them overly.

The shackles were removed. Sandy Balloch, the younger brother, smiled and handed the prisoner his hat and walking cane. The convict, Jack Balloch put on his hat, leered over at Kane and the solicitor: ‘Ahhhh. That’s better. You see, gentlemen – Death in the cards begins with a release from chains. Now…’ He walked over and began to scrutinise the near-decrepit horse that was to pull him to court. ‘So, this is the engine of my freedom, is it?’ He frowned: ‘How old is this animal?’ The driver shrugged: ‘No-one knows, sir. She was a barge horse for some years before she came into the service.’

Balloch walked to the front of the horse and pulled open its lips with a rough tug: ‘Look at all those missing teeth. This nag is older than the hills. I’m surprised that they didn’t feed it to Napoleon’s soldiers at Waterloo.’ He walked backwards, laughing, amused at his own joke. ‘Still – we’ll get her moving and get me to the court on time – even if we require to…’ Balloch thwacked his walking cane onto the palm of his hand.

And that’s when it happened.

Maggie – horse in question – was so alarmed by the apparent threat of the cane that she kicked up her hind legs.

Afterwards, witnesses described it as if the animal had been struck by lightning, making her back legs shoot out. The result was a hoof striking Dr Jack Balloch in the face. He, in turn, was thrown backwards (both cane and hat flying in the air) landing in an undignified heap in the mud. Fortunately, another doctor was present – younger brother, Sandy Balloch: ‘Jack! Jack! Are you alright?’ Jack?’

****

Mr Horse stroked his stubbly chin: ‘Dead, Mr K? Dead?’

Edward Kane, Advocate, sat back in his wing chair by the fire, nursing a glass of rum and milk in his hand: ‘Dead as a dodo, Mr Horse. The kick of that old horse broke Balloch’s neck.’

Horse whistled: ‘Would you Adam and Eve it, sir! The bloke survives the hangman’s drop – but then gets his neck broke by a horse.’ He grinned. ‘Wait a minute, wait a minute – knowing them brothers – are you sure it weren’t just a pantomime horse that they hired for the day?’

Kane laughed: ‘The only theatricality appeared to be the response of the younger brother. In floods of tears. Except, on this occasion – as opposed to last time – the tears were real.’

Horse took a puff of his long clay pipe and shook his head: ‘Would you credit it, sir. And what did the judges have to say when you got to court?’

Kane nodded: ‘They seemed relieved.’

‘And what were they gonna do, sir? The judges, I mean, if your man Dr Balloch hadn’t snuffed it.’

Kane sat forward in his chair: ‘Oddly enough, I encountered Lord Eriskay in Parliament Hall afterwards and he thanked me for all my hard work. I broached with him the subject of a possible answer and…’

‘And?’

‘…and Lord Eriskay laughed, took a coin out of his pocket and tossed it in the air.’

Horse laughed: ‘Haha – heads or tails! Maybe you should have given the judges a deck of them Tarot cards, sir. That might have helped with an answer.’

The Advocate raised his index finger. ‘On that subject, Horse…’ Kane got up from his chair and went over to his work bag. ‘…as we were parting, the younger Balloch brother insisted that I have these.’ He produced the deck of Tarot cards that had so obsessed the now twice-departed Dr Jack Balloch. ‘He said he couldn’t bear to look at them any more.’ He handed the cards to his manservant.

Horse studied the faces of the cards: ‘Never understood these, sir.’ He pursed his lips: ‘Did I ever tell you that my old nan had “The Sight”?’

Kane gave a good-humoured groan: ‘Not recently, Mr Horse.’

‘A wery wise woman, my old nan. Used to read the tea leaves, she did.’

‘And what did she predict for you, my friend?’

‘Funny enough – she said I would have a lot of dealings with The Law…’

They both laughed.

Mr Horse studied the cards again. ‘My nan said that sometimes the bad luck sticks to the thing and not the person. That doctor – he was looking for these cards to bring him luck. I wonder if he was looking at them when he decided to do away with his poor old dad.’

‘We will never know, Mr Horse.’

Horse sighed: ‘Maybe it’s the cards themselves that’s cursed, sir. I think we should get rid of them’

Kane (a good Son of the Manse) nodded: ‘Amen to that, Mr Horse. I’m happy that you dispose of them how you will. They could be sold, perhaps?’

Horse shook his head: ‘The fella what loved these cards loved them more than his own father, Mr K. Only one thing for them.’ Horse got up from his stool and walked to the fireplace. There he stood before the blazing fire and, one by one, he drew each card from the deck, looked at the card for a moment, then tossed each single card into the flames, naming it as it went:

‘And there goes The Juggler…’

Toss.

‘And here‘s a bloke holding up what looks like a sword and some scales. Don’t know what that is…’

Kane volunteered: ‘“Justice”, perhaps?’

‘Justice! Into the fire with it…’

Toss.

‘And here’s Old Nick. The Devil, himself.’ He wagged his finger at the card and spoke to it: ‘In you get, Nick! You’ll be used to all them flames, my son…’

Toss.

‘And… wait a minute… what’s this. Oh, no…’ Horse suddenly appeared worried.

Kane leaned forward in his chair: ‘Horse – what is it?’

‘This card sir – I think I recognise it…’

‘What is it?’

Horse shook his head: ‘Trouble, sir. Serious trouble coming to our door. A horrible thing… and it wants… it wants…’

Kane was worried now: ‘What does it want, Horse?’

The manservant’s face broke into a grin: ‘Sorry, sir. For a minute there, I thought it was a picture of the landlady – looking for last month’s rent…’

Kane shook his head: ‘Mr Horse, I fear that you have missed your vocation.’

‘As a fortune-teller, sir?’

‘As an actor on the comic stage. Now, can I invite you to turn away from such things and towards our supper? A supper, devoid this time, I hope, of any trace of canine scraps…’

‘If you give me a minute, sir.’

Horse continued to study each card, then toss it into the fire.

Kane smiled and shook his head: ‘Mr Horse….’

‘Nearly there, sir – is that a castle struck by lightning?’

‘Supper, Mr Horse?’

‘Blimey – here’s a woman – looks like she’s dressed up like The Pope, sir…’

Kane laughed: ‘Mr Horse – if you please – supper!!!’

‘Bloomin’ heck, Mr K – wait ‘til you see this next one…’

Look out for more exploits of Edward Kane, Advocate and Mr Horse in The Scotsman in 2025!

Available now on Amazon and Kindle

Edward Kane and Mr Horse – Collected Short Stories: Volume I

Edward Kane and the Parlour Maid Murderer