Edward Kane, Advocate in The Supernal Sisters. Chapter 4: ‘A Colourable Reason?’

Kane sat in his wing-back chair by the fire, nursing his glass of rum and milk: ‘Not me, Mr Horse. It’s the client. He says that he was taken by a friend to see a spirit medium - a ‘Miss Spooner’ - and that lady gave him the message from his father from beyond the grave.’

Horse frowned: ‘I heard of the lady, Mr K. My little friend, Maisie, you know - the one what sometimes does a shift down at the Doric Tavern…’

(Kane nodded. But in truth he had not remembered this particular lady’s name since his manservant Mr Horse appeared to have more than a passing acquaintance with every barmaid in Edinburgh.

Edward Kane. Illustration: Lesley-Anne Barnes Macfarlane

Horse continued: …well, the thing about Maisie is that she is a woman of many talents. Not only does she pull a decent glass of beer, but she has a nice sideline in dressing bodies.’

‘“Dressing bodies”?’

Horse nodded: ‘You know - when some geezer snuffs it and they want to put him out on the table in the parlour for the night before they send him off to the graveyard…’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, they don’t want him looking like a tramp, do they? So, they get Maisie in and she gets makeup and such on them and gets them dressed into their Sunday best so that they can receive visitors and the like.’

Kane smiled: ‘I don’t expect the conversation will be too scintillating, though…”

‘If I had any idea what you was talking about, Mr K, then I wager that would be wery amusing, but…’ the manservant stroked his stubbly chin: ‘…here’s the thing: Maisie said that one of the families that she done the business for, their old uncle had died and they was trying to figure out what jacket the old dead uncle wanted – in the coffin, like – and they couldn’t agree, so they went to see Miss Spooner…’

‘The spirit medium…’

Horse nodded. ‘The spirit medium sir. And she got in touch with the old bloke – on the other side – and so they got it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.’

Kane shook his head: ‘What a curious business!’

‘Oh, it’s all the rage, sir. All the best people are doing it.’ Horse leaned forward. ‘And in case you’re wondering, Mr K, the old uncle plumped for the smoking jacket. And wery spruce he felt in it an’ all. At least, that what he told them…’

*****

‘Experience? Of exhuming a dead body?’ Collins shook his head. ‘I fear that I cannot help you with that, my friend.’

Kane blew air from his cheeks. “Apparently, I would require permission from the Sheriff Substitute before this could be done. What’s needed, as I understand it, would be a colourable reason for doing so.’

Collins sat back in his chair and pondered the question: ‘You will forgive me, Edward, for asking an indelicate question.’

“Yes?’

‘But after the dissection itself, what becomes of the organs that are removed? Are they

then re-inserted, post-mortem – rather like stuffing a Christmas turkey – or are they preserved in aspic or the like, or…’. (At this point, Collins gave a small shake of the head to indicate that he had run out of options).

Kane pondered this: ‘I confess, I have no idea…’

Collins leaned forward: ‘Then time to find out, I wager. The whole event is relatively recent. Speak to the anatomist. It will be a professor at the university. No doubt he – and a number of keen students – will have taken detailed notes from the event.”

Kane frowned: ‘And what will that achieve?’

‘Two things. One: a better understanding into the mechanism of death and the possibility – however remote – of foul play in the eminent fishmonger’s demise.’

Kane nodded: ‘And “two”?’

Collins smiled: ‘“Two”: the conversation will be billed as a “consultation”. And will attract a healthy fee…’

*****

Edinburgh University. The Old College

‘What did you say your name was?’

‘Hawkes, sir, John Hawkes of the firm Abernathy and Hawkes.’

‘Never heard of you.’ The professor pointed to the young Advocate standing beside the solicitor: ‘And who is this? Your apprentice?’

‘This is Mr Kane the Advocate, sir.’

‘The Advocate???’ William Peterson, FRSE FRCSE, Professor of Anatomy at the University of Edinburgh adjusted his pince-nez and studied the two figures standing hat-in-hand before him. He sighed: ‘Well, I suppose you had better come in then.’

Much patting of waistcoats and fumbling in pockets before the good professor finally bent down, reached into his case and produced a large key that he placed into the lock. Door opened, the academic led the lawyers into his chambers. Kane looked around. It looked as though a tornado had entered the room and had swept the books from their shelves, scattering them around the room. The walls may have been adorned with beautiful pastoral pictures, but these were largely covered by large, crudely-drawn illustrations of skeletons and cut-away attempts at drawing the musculature of the human body.

The professor motioned to a stack of chairs in the corner: ‘Sit down, won’t you…’

Kane moved to lift a pile of books off one of the chairs, but was immediately halted as the professor held up a prohibitive hand: ‘No – not that one!’

Professor Peterson then walked around the room studying each book-laden chair, examining them as if they were soldiers on parade. He placed the books onto the floor then pointed: ‘This one.’ Another inspection, then: ‘And this one.’

Kane and his instructing solicitor lifted up the designated chairs and drew them towards the professorial desk. Professor Peterson was already seated and stuffing a pipe with tobacco. After a struggle with some tobacco that refused to be lit, the academic gave a few contented puffs of the pipe and smiled over the desk: ‘So gentlemen - before we begin, let me just say: I know why you are here.’

Hawkes frowned: ‘You do, sir?’

‘Of course,’ – *puff* *puff* – ‘men of your rank and calibre – it is plain as a pikestaff. I am not stupid, gentlemen…’

Edward Kane and Mr Horse Collected Short Stories Volume 1 is available on Amazon, Kindle and from all good bookshops