Page 27 of A Case of Possession
The landlady did not take the news well. She was still having hysterics when a policeman came in. He took one look at the charnel scene in Rackham’s room and vomited on the landing, which scarcely improved the choking atmosphere. By the time an inspector arrived, Crane was ready to damn Rackham’s soul to hell for dying in such an aggressively unpleasant manner.
Inspector Rickaby was at least competent. A weary-looking man with a neat moustache, he contemplated the slaughter with a look of mild disgust, and poked around the gobbets of flesh and splintered bone as though he saw shredded people on a daily basis.
They sat in the small shabby parlour, and he listened to Crane’s account with an expression of patient interest.
“So, my lord, you were merely here to visit a friend?”
“That’s right.”
Inspector Rickaby turned Crane’s card over and back as though he expected to find a clue on it. “Earl Crane. Shouldn’t there be an ‘of’ in that?”
“No. It’s like Earl Grey.”
“The tea?”
“The lord.”
“Ah. Do you suppose the Earl Grey has many friends in Wapping?”
“I’ve no idea.” Crane noted the detective’s correct use of the definite article. “I’ve never met the man.”
“I just wondered. If earls usually have friends in these parts of London.”
“I couldn’t speak for other earls,” said Crane. “I have several friends in this part of London. I lived in China between the ages of seventeen and thirty-seven, Inspector. I only came back to England eight months ago. Most of my acquaintances in this country are either Chinese or old China hands. People very like Rackham.”
“Not so dead, I hope.”
“No, most of them are hardly dead at all.”
The inspector tilted his head. “Good friend, was he?”
“I knew him for a long time.”
“You don’t seem upset.”
“I’m reasonably upset. I just found him in small pieces.”
“Most distressing, my lord. Was the deceased expecting you?”
“He was, but not at a specific time,” Crane said. “I’d promised him a loan. I came here on my way to my office to drop off the money.”
“But he didn’t answer the door when you knocked.”
“No. Obviously not.”
“So how did you get in?”
“I opened it. It was unlocked.”
Rickaby nodded. “Again, my lord, forgive my ignorance, but as an earl, would you normally go round trying people’s doors on the off chance? Because most of us, if our friends don’t answer the door, we walk away, we don’t see if we can let ourselves in.”
Crane paused, attempting to give the air of a man with a moral dilemma, then spoke frankly. “Inspector, you’ll understand that I’d rather this didn’t get about more than it has to, but Mr. Rackham was an opium addict. It was entirely usual for him not to lock his door. I expected to find him asleep in bed, I wanted to drop off the money and get to work, so I tried the door, and found—as you saw.”
“Do you have many friends who are opium addicts, my lord? As an earl?”
“As a China man, yes, I do.”
“Who do you think killed him?”
