The Headless Corpse

  Heyward and Andersen, Consulting Detectives #3

  A. F. Stewart

  The Headless Corpse

  Heyward and Andersen, Consulting Detectives #3

  A. F. Stewart

  Copyright © 2024 by A. F. Stewart.

  All rights reserved.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. Book pirating is a crime and a copyright violation.

  The contents of this book may not be used for AI training.

  Editing by Partners in Crime Book Services

  Cover design by A. F. Stewart

  Original artwork fully licensed by Shutterstock and Adobe Stock

  A big thanks to my beta readers for making this story better, and a shout out to Tasting History with Max Miller for inspiring the mention of Oyster Saloons.

  Contents

  The Headless Corpse

  Bonus Scene

  ALSO IN THE SERIES

  BOOKS BY A. F. STEWART

  The Headless Corpse

  LARS SIPPED his tea and read the newspaper after breakfast, revelling in the delicious memories of eggs and sausage. This morning, Elspeth exhibited an uncommonly good mood, engrossed in the latest edition of one of her arcane periodicals. All was well in his world.

  Until a loud knock echoed from the front door.

  Lars muttered, “Once, just once, can't I have a peaceful morning?” He peeped over at Elspeth. She hadn’t seemed to notice, but she glanced up when Willoughby ushered in a tall, stately gentleman whose dark hair had precisely the right amount of distinguished grey at the temples.

  Willoughby bowed, his usual clanking diminished due to a new brand of joint oil. “A potential client, ma’am; Mr. Simeon Potter.” Willoughby moved closer, handing Elspeth a square of pasteboard. “His card.”

  Elspeth squinted at the cream-coloured card with gold lettering embossed with the words, Simeon Potter, Mortician. She flashed the card at Lars before tucking it into a pocket and replying, “What brings you to us, Mr. Potter? You don’t seem the sort to court trouble.”

  “I’m not here for myself, exactly, but my charges. Some of them have, well, disappeared.” He coughed awkwardly. “And then reappeared. Sometimes missing a head. Indeed, my corpses have become, well, quite animated.”

  Lars stared, incredulous, but Elspeth leaned forward, a fire of excitement in her eyes.

  “What do you mean, animated?”

  “I mean walking, moving, blundering about. Everything a corpse shouldn’t be doing. Particularly if they lack a head. A head, I might add, they possessed when they arrived at my mortuary.”

  Lars trembled. “Are you saying you’ve been infested by the...” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, “Undead?”

  Mr. Potter shook his head. “Not in the truest sense, no. From what I observed, they are merely being controlled by something. My assistant was the first to witness the phenomena. A body sat up from its table and then walked out of the building. He was in near hysterics afterwards.”

  “Corpses are leaving the funeral home? Of their own accord?” Elspeth's face beamed with ardent joy.

  “Indeed. Macabre puppets manipulated by magic of some sort. But it doesn’t last long. Yet, that isn’t what worries me the most. What happened to the heads and the cadavers that didn’t return? It is most vexing and disgusting. Even more upsetting, I’m not the only establishment that is missing a few bodies.” He sighed and lowered himself into the nearest chair, a plaintive expression creasing his face. “Can you help?”

  Elspeth leapt up and paced in front of the fireplace, prattling, “Perhaps, perhaps. An intriguing case, to be certain. I’ve read of several recorded cases of the reanimated dead, although in those instances they retained their heads.” She whirled to face her guest, her brow furrowed. “When did you start experiencing the phenomenon? And what of the other locations? Did they start suffering their odd occurrences around the same time? Is it widespread across the city, or localized?” She peppered him with questions, then frowned. “Where did you say this was happening?”

  Mr. Potter looked confused, but seized on the last inquiry to answer. “I’m in charge of a workhouse mortuary in Bethnal Green. The problem does seem to be confined to the general area with the workhouse, the hospital asylum, and a church graveyard.”

  “Interesting.” Elsbeth flopped back down in her chair with a poof of her skirts. “A localized phenomenon will make the investigation easier. We shall have to inspect the mortuary’s bodies as a first step.”

  Relief flooded Mr. Porter’s expression. “So, you’ll take the case?”

  “Of course. Our fee is nine pounds, plus expenses.”

  “A bit steep.” Mr. Potter wrinkled his nose. “But I suppose I cannot be choosey, considering.” Money changed hands and Mr. Potter departed, with the curt admonition, “I will expect your visit promptly at two.”

  “Well, this became a much more interesting day.” Elspeth sipped her cold tea and grimaced. “Needs brandy.” She set the cup down. “We’ll need equipment. A sample kit, my spectral goggles, the residue detector, and possibly a few wards. Think on it, Andersen, we’re spending the afternoon in a mortuary! I’m so excited.”

  Lars made a disagreeable face. “Not my idea of a pleasant time, but at least we should be able to pay the accounts this week.”

  AT PRECISELY two o’clock, Elspeth pounded the brass door knocker at the mortuary and Mr. Potter escorted them inside.

  “I’ve put the defiled bodies in the front here, three in all. There were others, but they’ve since been interred.”

  “I see.” While Lars and Mr. Potter stepped back, Elspeth cranked the residue detector into life, the hum of its mechanics sizzling and snapping. She stalked around the corpses laid out on tables, flourishing the detector and studying the fluctuations of its needle. “Others have been buried, you say? How long has this been going on?”

  “A month now, at least.”

  “How many bodies in total?”

  “From this mortuary, eight missing, seven returned. But there have been seven other cases, and of those, only five have come back.”

  “Three corpses are still unaccounted for, interesting. What was so important about them, I wonder?”

  Elspeth shut down the detector and slung it over her shoulder. One by one, she rolled away the shrouds covering the cadavers, stopping at the only headless corpse. “I see only one has no head.” Leaning closer to examine the neck where it had been severed, she asked, “How many of the returned bodies were lacking their heads?”

  “Half. Six in total. The other five have been buried. The one on the table is recently deceased.”

  “Most curious.” She stared at the severed neck. “Have you observed where the head was cut off? It is very clean, but doesn’t seem surgical. What’s your opinion, Mr. Potter?”

  “I surmised an axe. I’ve seen similar wounds on limbs.”

  “Quite so. An efficient method, but not a professional one. So perhaps a medical motive is not the reason for this unusual body snatching. I shall need more.”

  Pulling her sample kit and spectral goggles from her satchel, Elspeth bent over each cadaver in turn and examined the corpses. She hummed as she scraped skin, snipped locks of hair, clipped nails from fingers and toes, and syphoned a sample of any remaining saliva from their mouths with an eyedropper; she tucked away every bit of matter in her kit for later analysis.

  “Now what do we have here?” With a small spoon, she scooped a glob of shimmering emerald goo from inside a dead man’s nose. Lars made a slight choking noise.

  “Not mucus.” She switched a dial on her goggles. “Oh, definite magic residue. A promising lead.” She slid the goo into a glass vial, tucked it away, and closed the sample case.

  Pushing the goggles onto her forehead, she nodded at her client. “I have some intriguing samples to analyze, but at first glance, this doesn't appear to be the work of amateur practitioners. They are generally more careless, leaving obvious traces behind. I would wager whoever did this is quite skilled.”

  Wringing his hands, an agitated Potter grimaced. “You think this is a deliberate act? No chance it’s simply a random supernatural occurrence? Not one of those unfortunate leaks of magic?”

  “Those sorts of leaks leave a distinctive trace. There’s no evidence of that here. The detector showed an altogether different frequency of supernatural energy. There’s a person behind this.”

  “I see.” Mr. Potter stumbled to a chair and sat down. “That is most disconcerting.”

  “Has anyone been seen lurking around these last few weeks? A stranger, or someone out of place, who didn’t belong here?”

  “Not that I’m aware. Most people avoid the mortuary unless they have business here, or are in our employ.” He sighed. “But I will make inquiries of my workers to make certain and ask at the other sites involved in this dreadful mess.”

  “I have a question.” Lars suddenly piped up. “Fifteen bodies have gone missing over the last month, but nothing in the papers, and you’ve made no mention of outraged families. Why?”

  “None of the vanished corpses had much family to speak of. The mortuary was robbed of pa upers and vagrants; the asylum, deceased inmates no one claimed. The graveyard did have some vanish where family members could have created a fuss, but they reburied their returned corpses quickly, so no one suspected.”

  Elspeth frowned. “A clever and careful sort then, this body snatcher.” She packed her sample case into her satchel. “I think that should be enough for a preliminary visit. I want to get those samples analyzed. How long before these bodies are buried?”

  “The headless corpse will be interred tomorrow, without his head, poor fellow. The other two are scheduled for the day after that.”

  “That’s acceptable. If I need more samples, I have time. Now, if your interviews with your fellows yield more facts, let me know, and if there are any more incidents, call me immediately. Come, Andersen.” She turned to leave, then whirled back around. “Oh, I may wish to talk to someone at the asylum and the caretakers at the graveyard. Can you arrange that if necessary?”

  Mr. Potter nodded. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Elspeth and Lars left, walking back to their mechanical carriage and stopped dead in their tracks as soon as the vehicle came into sight.

  “What in the deuce!” Elspeth hissed, as her partner stared wide-eyed. “Is that a headless body in our rear seat?”

  “It is, oh my, it is!” Lars’ voice trembled.

  Elspeth dashed forward and poked the corpse. It fell, its neck stump resting on the back of the driver’s seat. Lars peered over her shoulder.

  “Well, that isn’t the one from the mortuary, is it? This one is fully clothed.” Lars ventured a closer inspection. “At least it’s remaining dead. Not moving at all.”

  “Indeed, Andersen.” Elspeth gave him an odd look.

  “I wonder how it ended up in our vehicle? Should we summon Mr. Potter?”

  “No, Andersen, we should not. An opportunity has fallen in our lap. We shall take the corpse home for further study.” Wheeling around and dashing to the storage compartment, Elspeth snatched up a blanket and hastily covered the body. “Get in the carriage, Andersen, and drive! Before someone notices us!”

  She pushed her partner into the driver’s seat, before climbing in herself, and they chugged off for home.

  WITH WILLOUGHBY’S assistance, they carried the corpse to the sitting room and arranged him in a chair by the window. Elspeth covered his legs and torso with the blanket, the blood-encrusted neck stump sticking up like a flagpole.

  Lars sighed at the sight. “At least he doesn’t smell.”

  Elspeth sniffed. “You’re right. He should be ripe. Why doesn’t he smell?” Leaning over to study the severed neck, she exclaimed, “There’s more of that green goo smeared over the cut and on the skin. I must collect more samples and analyze them at once.”

  Willoughby and Lars slowly backed out of the room, leaving Elspeth to her work, and retreated to the kitchen.

  An hour later, Elspeth Heyward wandered into the kitchen. “Did you move the headless man? He’s not in the sitting room.”

  The question startled both Willoughby and Andersen, who were discussing the weekly food allowance. Specifically, whether they would have enough money to buy two loaves of fresh bread or should settle for one stale loaf and some day-old cake.

  Lars turned a sickly shade of pale and made a small noise with his tongue. “What do you mean he’s not there? I haven’t touched him. Willoughby?” He looked at the automaton, who shook his head. “You must be mistaken. Perhaps he fell over?”

  Elspeth snorted. “I would have noticed a corpse on the floor. I left to do my analysis and when I returned, he wasn’t there.” She paused, frowning. “If you two didn’t move him, the poor fellow must have wandered away on his own. We should initiate a search at once!”

  “Do you think—” Andersen’s voice stopped mid-sentence and a look of fright transformed his expression.

  “What is it?” Elspeth asked. Then she sighed. “The headless man is standing behind me, isn’t he?” At Andersen’s nod, she turned to see the decapitated, reanimated corpse holding an Enfield revolver and a bottle. Elspeth backed further into the kitchen and the headless corpse followed for a few steps.

  Then she gasped. “He’s stolen some of my brandy!” She resonated with outrage. “How dare he?”

  “He has also stolen a gun,” Lars pointed out, his voice shaking with fear. “Perhaps slightly more important.”

  Elspeth snorted. “Pish posh. How will he hit anything? He can’t see.”

  As if he heard her—despite lacking ears—the headless corpse swiftly raised the weapon and fired. The bullet sailed far to the left of them, ricocheted off a pot and embedded itself in the wall.

  Willoughby wailed, “My good pot!” while Elspeth declared, “I told you he couldn’t shoot straight!”

  She then grabbed a cast iron skillet, whacked the gun out of the headless man’s hand, and snatched the brandy bottle from his clutching fingers. She kicked him in the knee, exclaiming, “I’ll teach you to steal my brandy”, and whacked him again with the pan, this time in the shoulders. The creature collapsed, and Elspeth promptly sat on him.

  She looked up at Andersen. “Fetch some rope, man. We need to tie this miscreant up to stop his shenanigans.”

  Andersen scurried away and returned post haste with a goodly length of rope. He assisted Elspeth, trussing the wiggling, headless body and helped her drag him back to the sitting room, before they both collapsed into chairs.

  “Willoughby!” The screech of Elspeth’s voice brought the clacking wheeze and hiss of the butler into the doorway.

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Bring some glasses for the brandy.” She waved the rescued bottle she still clutched in the air. Behind her came a faint thumping from their prisoner. “And then go check on the rest of the stores. Make sure that beast of a creature didn’t harm any of the other bottles. And my sympathies for the damaged pot.”

  “Very good.” With an audible creak, the butler bowed slightly before leaving. He returned about fifteen minutes later with brandy snifters, which he placed on a table near Elspeth.

  “I inspected the premises and found nothing amiss in the stores, save for an opened crate. I presume that is where he purloined the liquor, as there is a bottle missing. I also discovered the extra weapons trunk flung open, with only the gun absent, which I have now returned. I shall endeavour to add a sturdier lock to the trunk so this does not happen in the future.”

  “Excellent! And a good idea regarding the trunk.” Elspeth smiled. “Now pour us some brandy.” She handed Willoughby the bottle.

  “Haven’t we some open already?” Andersen interjected. "If so, shame to start another."

  Elspeth shook her head. “I finished that off yesterday. Proceed, Willoughby.”

  The butler opened the brandy and poured the aromatic liquor into the glasses, handing one to Elspeth and another to Lars. He then exited the room.

  Miss Heyward swirled her drink and took a long sniff of its scent. “Ah, nothing like good brandy.”

  “Indeed.” Andersen sipped from his glass, making less of a production of his drink.

  “Even more so when it is a prize wrested from the hands of a thief.” She glanced behind her as more thumps could be heard from their bound, headless guest.

  “Hmm.” Andersen frowned. “Odd that. Him having the brandy.”

  Elspeth tilted her head. “Why? I should think anyone would wish to steal our brandy. It’s top quality.”

  “Yes, but why would a headless man want brandy? He has no mouth.”

  Miss Heyward shrugged. “Haven’t a clue. But the more important question is, how did he reanimate? He was dead as a doornail when we hauled him in here. Outside magic can’t penetrate my wards, so what happened?”

  “Perhaps whatever brought him back to life the first time was still working? But had a short circuit, like Willoughby gets sometimes.”

  Elspeth turned and stared at the wriggling, trussed up corpse. “You could be on to something, Andersen. What if this spell went awry? Even the best practitioners can muck things up. If that’s true... Oh, I need the residue detector!” She jumped from her chair, emptied her satchel onto the floor, and grabbed the machine, cranking it into humming life.

 

1 2 3 4