“This is a wicked business,” growls Waxford. He sinks back his whisky. “And that Professor has everything to do with it. Have you interviewed him yet? Seen his butterflies?”
“Yes, yes, it was bizarre. His house is a maze and it appears the Professor dabbles in the occult: he managed to evict myself and Walnut from his property using…” – I pause – “some sort of black magic.”
Waxford looks a little shocked. “Black magic? More like trickery, Percival. They’re all nuts in that village. Especially that bloody Mr Loveheart.”
“Loveheart can be extremely cooperative. You just have to humour him.”
“I’m glad I don’t have to go back there.” Waxford sighs. “It would have driven me mad.”
“I have been reading your journals and they have been most helpful. Is there anything you left out which could aid me now?”
Waxford wiggles his bandaged foot. “I tried to research the Professor and it was very difficult. He has two family members alive. A wife, Lucy, who is in a madhouse. Her full name is Lucy Dewdoll. By all accounts she didn’t go mad until she married him. And guess who one of the doctors was who signed the certificate to condemn her?”
“Hookeye?”
“Yes. And she’s the sixth wife he’s had.”
“Good God, what happened to the rest?”
“I couldn’t find out. I was sure I was being followed at the time. Not a scrap of proof. His brother is Ignatius Hummingbird, who holds a seat in the House of Lords and has influence with the prime minister. I’m afraid Professor Hummingbird is very well protected.”
“Where is his wife now?”
“Well, they are divorced due to her madness and she resides in the Blue-Flower Institution near Blackheath. But she may have information for you which might help. She is the only lead I can think of.”
“Thank you, Waxford. Tell me, what do you think he’s up to, the Professor? What’s really going on?”
“There were a lot of suspicions at the time. The main line of thinking was that Hookeye and Grubweed were providing bodies for experimentation. The question was how they were getting these bodies. But I can’t see the reason for the Professor to have any interest in such a thing. He’s obsessed with his butterflies and his research on the Aztecs. No, in my opinion there is something else going on.”
“I found a little red diary in Icarus Hookeye’s coat pocket. Inside were numerous drawings of butterflies.”
“What meaning could that have, other than a connection to the Professor?”
“That’s what I wondered,” and I help myself to a refill of whisky and top Waxford up.
“Why kill Icarus and Grubweed?”
“Maybe someone is picking them off,” I say instinctively, and suddenly feel quite odd.
“Percival, are you alright?” Waxford leans forward.
“Yes. I just had the strangest feeling.”
The Blue-Flower Institute
I am, I admit, a little drunk after seeing Waxford. He has a more robust constitution for alcohol. I buy some strong coffee and make my way to the reception area of the Blue-Flower Institute, a miserable-looking building. A largely built woman with fierce little eyes examines me at the front desk.
“My name is Detective Sergeant White and I need to see a resident. A woman named Lucy Dewdoll. It is quite urgent and involves a murder investigation.”
I am escorted to a cell where Lucy Dewdoll sits at a small table in a long grey dress. Her hair, loose and falling to her waist, is the colour of dirty sand. Her face is like her name: doll-like, perfect skin and round blue eyes. She turns to look at me.
“Please get me out of here.”
“Miss Dewdoll, I understand that you were married to Professor Hummingbird. I am currently investigating a murder and I need to know whatever you can tell me, anything that might give me some insight into his character.”
“If I do this, can you get me out of here? I am not mad. I have never been mad.”
“I will do everything in my power to help you.”
“If you want any power over him, detective, steal his favourite butterfly. It is his only weakness.”