Edward Kane, Advocate in The Supernal Sisters. Chapter 5: ‘A Much Sought-After Dresser of the Dead’

The Doric Tavern was quiet at this time of day. Mr Horse nursed his jug of foamy beer as he listened to Maisie Mount (sometime Doric barmaid and much-sought-after Dresser of the Dead).

Maisie smiled and nodded to the drink: ‘Give me that.’ Horse handed over his near-finished jug. Maisie looked around to make sure that she wasn’t being watched. Then pulled the pump and filled up Horse’s drink. She gave him a sly wink and handed it back. ‘That one is on the house for - you know – “old lang syne” and that…’

Horse gave a sly wink and held up the drink in toast to his bonny benefactor: ‘…and a bit more of the “old acquaintance” when you get off.’

Edward Kane. Illustration: Lesley-Anne Barnes Macfarlane

The barmaid laughed: ‘Who you calling “old”??? Ye cheeky scamp.’ She mock-reached over to take back the beer.

Horse smiled and held the jug to himself: ‘It’s a “cup of kindness”, darlin’ - don’t forget that!’ They laughed. Horse took a deep drink and wiped his mouth with his sleeve: ‘You do pull a proper glass of beer, Maisie. So – as I was saying – my master, Mr Kane was telling me about one of his clients went to see them sisters – ended up speaking to his old dead dad on the other side and the old bloke says he was done in – with the arsenic.’

Maisie nodded, lifted up a rag and polished a glass as she spoke: ‘You hear all sorts of things in that room. Sounds about right. There’s two of them. Sisters, I mean. Sarah Spooner and Sukie Spooner. One of them is the medium – that’s ‘Sarah’ – she’s the one that talks to the spirits. She does the voices and that.’ Maisie dipped her head and made imitation of the medium in a low voice: ‘“I am yer deid faither. I know why youse are here. I never hid the money you’re looking for – I went and spent it. Oh, and yer Aunty Fanny is on the other side an’ all and she says ‘Hello’...”’

Horse spluttered a laugh into his beer. Maisie continued: ‘And then there’s the wee sister, ‘Susan’ – but folk call her ‘Sukie’ – she, like, helps the medium sister out. She lets you into the house and lays out the chairs and such. But she’s a real dark horse, that one. Sometimes you look across that table and the wee sister is in a trance an’ all’. They’re a right pair, they two.’

Horse grinned: ‘Sounds like the magician at a fair and his lovely assistant.’

Maisie was suddenly serious: ‘But this is no’ like pulling a coin out of your lug, Horse, or pulling a chicken out of a hat. I’m telling you. I’ve seen things at these meetings. Real things. These sisters. They’ve gave themselves a name. “The super…super..’. The barmaid shook her head. ‘It’s a word I don’t know.’ Maisie noted the concentrated look on Horse’s face: ‘And look at you, all serious. And all about women.’ She polished the glass: ‘That must be a first.’

Horse smiled: ‘I was just thinking that I’d like to have a look at them…’

The barmaid had a gleam in her eye: : ‘And did I mention that sister Sukie is a pretty wee package an’ all? Very bonny.’

‘In that case, my dear, I would very much like to have a look at them…’

Maisie flicked her rag at the grinning manservant and he gave a comical duck away from it. She shook her head and kept polishing: ‘Well, you happen to be in luck, you cheeky midden. I’m going to one of their meetings tonight.’

‘Tonight?’

‘Some rich old wifie has passed away and – again – there’s a stooshie in the family about what’s she’s to wear in the coffin. So they’re going to see if they can get an answer from the old woman that’s passed.’

Mr Horse frowned: ‘But if you’re there for the family, what am I meant to be doing there?’

Maisie winked: ‘I’ll be the magician, Horse, and you can be my lovely assistant.’ She looked serious for a moment: ‘Big problem for you, though.’

‘What?’

‘You’re going to have to shave…’

*****

‘I’m afraid that you appear to have the wrong end of the stick, Professor Peterson.’

John Hawkes, solicitor, sat in the professor’s office, turning his hat in his hands as he sat. Peterson looked over the desk at Hawkes and Kane: ‘Well, if you do not wish to purchase tickets for the upcoming dissection, then how may I help you, sirs?’

Hawkes quickly explained their mission: information concerning a recent autopsy – performed by Professor Peterson himself – where Alexander Humbie (millionaire fish magnate) had died unexpectedly, had been declared an unclaimed body and had been consigned to the Anatomy Rooms.

The professor listened, puffing on his pipe and nodding his head as the narrative unfolded. Finally, he took the pipe out of his mouth and tapped its bowl in the palm of his hand as he considered his response: ‘I remember that one well, gentlemen. Gentleman in his fifties. It was difficult to establish cause of death with no surrounding information. With other cadavers it’s often easy: the murderer cut down from the scaffold - I wager that I could narrate the story of their life from the newspaper reports alone without examining the body. Unclaimed bodies from hospitals - again, the admission papers from the ward will tell the tale - the age, occupation and so forth of the deceased. The post-mortem in such cases is an exercise in confirmation of what we already know, rather than an exploration of what we don’t. But in the case of…of…what was his name again…bear with me…’

‘Alexander Humbie.’

With that, the professor put his pipe back in his mouth, got up from his desk and walked over and peered at a pile of papers in the corner: ‘Of course. What date did you say?’

Hawkes confirmed the date from his notes and the professor ran his finger down the stacked papers. He pulled out a sheaf of papers and went through them: ‘Ah, yes - here it is. The Fish Man – as we later discovered once he was safely buried – one “Alexander Humbie” – but we weren’t to know the identity at the time. One of five autopsies. A good haul for that session.’ He gave a little chuckle: ‘And the esteemed Mr Humbie was not the freshest catch of the day, I’m bound to say.’ Professor Peterson was soon engrossed in the papers and mumbling to himself: ‘Umm…yes…mmm…. I see…’. He looked up, took the piece of paper and patted it against his other hand. Hawkes and Kane saw what looked like bloodstains on it.

Edward Kane - who had so far said little - ventured a question: ‘It is our understanding that there may have been some question of…of…how shall I put it…um…poison?’

The professor studied the young Advocate’s face for a moment. Then burst into uncontrolled laughter.

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