Death Takes a Lover: A DS Billing Victorian Mystery Novella

By Olivier Bosman

The year is 1888. Detective Sergeant John Billings has been sent to a remote house in the Yorkshire Moors to investigate the suspicious death of Roger Thornton, a young man who seemed to have everything to live for. He gets a frosty reception from the lady of the house and her rag-tag collection of domestic staff who try to put him off the scent, but as Billings delves deeper into their lives, he uncovers hidden passions, bitter rivalries and a truth so dark and sinister, it will shock you to the core.

Fusing Gothic romanticism and fin-de-siecle melodrama, 'Death Takes A Lover' is a chilling entry into a world which some may not want to enter, but if you do, don't say you haven't been warned...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Olivier Bosman
• Release date: Jun 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393177173

Olivier Bosman

Born to Dutch parents and raised in Colombia and England, I am a rootless wanderer with itchy feet. I've spent the last few years living and working in The Netherlands, Czech Republic, Sudan and Bulgaria, but I have every confidence that I will now finally be able to settle down among the olive groves of Andalucia.

Book preview

Prologue

T he police brought her here to the West Riding Pauper Lunatic Asylum on the third of January, 1888.

The doctor rushed down the hospital corridor as he spoke. He was reading from a file of medical notes in his hand and not looking where he was going. Detective Sergeant Billings tagged along behind, struggling to keep up. He was distracted by the sights and sounds around him. This was a large and cold building. High windows on the wall let in some light, but allowed no view of the outside world. The occasional sounds of laughter, sobs and screams emanated from the ward and echoed throughout the whitewashed corridor, sending chills down his spine. 

When she arrived, Gracie was withdrawn and uncommunicative, the doctor continued, but she was docile and cooperative. Since then she has become more active and she has developed some perturbing habits.

What do you mean by perturbing habits?

Suddenly the doctor tripped over something on the floor.

What the devil! He glanced away from his notes and saw one of his patients lying face down in the corridor with his arms pressed against his sides. Mr Twain! What are you doing there?

The patient did not respond but continued to look helplessly before him. He reminded Billings of a fish on dry land, desperately gasping for breath.

Get up, Mr Twain! The doctor prodded the man with the toe of one boot.

Perhaps he’s feeling unwell,  Billings offered.

No, he does this all the time. He heard us talking and is trying to attract your sympathy. Isn’t that right, Mr Twain? The doctor crouched down before the patient and looked him in the eye. You like attracting the attention of visitors, don’t you? Well, you won’t get it! Now, on your feet at once or we’ll strap you to a chair.

Mr Twain continued to ignore him.

The doctor straightened up and looked around him. Matron! he called. Where is the blessed woman? Matron!

A stout figure in rusty black skirts answered the summons. She was followed by two young nurses, wearing dirty white aprons and small white caps.

Why is Mr Twain lying on the floor?  the doctor asked.

I’m sorry, sir. He must have wandered out of the ward while we weren’t looking.

You should strap him into his chair if you can’t control him. I nearly broke my neck tripping over him!

Not a word of sympathy or concern for the patient, Billings noted.

We will be more severe with him, sir. We shall take him back to the ward forthwith.

The matron clapped her hands at the nurses who proceeded to lift the man off the floor. Billings watched as the man slipped and slithered from between the nurses’ hands while they tried to land him. It wasn’t until one of the nurses delivered a blow to the man’s head - like anglers dispatching their catch - that the man finally gave in and allowed himself to be dragged back into the ward.

This is Detective Sergeant Billings,  the doctor said, ignoring the spectacle. He’s come to interview Gracie.

Gracie? the matron retorted. Well, he won’t get much sense out of her.

I have told him so, but it’s his duty to try. Isn’t that right, Detective Sergeant Billings?

It is, Billings agreed. He was still watching Mr Twain being escorted to the ward, like an escaped eel being lured back to the net.

Her cell is in the next ward, the matron said. Follow me. And she led the two gentlemen further down the corridor. 

GRACIE SAT CROSS-LEGGED on her bed when the cell door opened.  She was fifty-two, with a round, chubby face and bright, hazel eyes which looked childlike and bewildered. Her shoulder-length hair was scraped back and tied behind her head with a short length of twine. She was clasping something in her hands and holding it to her breast when the door opened. She gaped open-mouthed at the three visitors standing in the doorway, studying her.

Gracie, this is Detective Sergeant Billings from Scotland Yard, the doctor said. He would like to ask you a few questions.

Billings approached the cell and looked around him. It was a small, narrow chamber, with white washed brick walls and a small barred window, too high for the patient to look through. There was a bed, a chair and a shelf on the wall which was meant for the patient’s personal belongings, but which in this cell was empty. There was a peculiar smell in the air and Billings had to make an effort not to breathe in while he spoke.

Hello, Gracie, he said, smiling at the patient.

She didn’t respond but continued to gape at him.

I am investigating the incident at Hammerock House.

He stopped to see if the mention of the place had any effect on her. It did not.

You know Hammerock House, don’t you? Where the Thorntons live... Mrs Thornton and Roger, her son.

Again he paused, expecting her to respond to that name. Roger Thornton, he repeated, articulating the words carefully. But Gracie still did not react. She simply continued to stare at him, wide-eyed as a baby. Or a calf in a pen, newly separated from its mother. 

It’s no use, Mr Billings, the doctor interrupted. Gracie won’t talk.

Is she mute? he asked.

No, she’s not. She talks all the time when she’s alone. But she won’t talk to others.

What does she talk about?

I don’t know. It’s hard to understand. She mumbles... I say, there’s an odd smell in here. The doctor sniffed the air and screwed up his face. When was the last time this cell was cleaned? he asked the matron.

The cells are cleaned daily, sir, she replied, also sniffing the air, then suddenly turned her gaze towards Gracie’s hands.

What are you holding there?

Gracie flinched at the woman’s sharp tone of voice and clasped her hands tighter to her breast.

What’s that you’ve got?

Billings looked at the clasped hands and saw a brown substance oozing from between her fingers.

Show me what you’re holding, Gracie, the other woman continued.

Gracie shook her head and put her arms behind her as the matron bore down on her.

Now, now, I don’t want to take it away from you. I just want to see what you have...

The matron pounced on Gracie then, grabbing her hands, tried to pull them apart. The patient struggled, but the nurse was stronger and managed to separate Gracie’s hands, causing a vile object to drop on to her lap.

The nurse, the doctor and Billings all staggered back in disgust.

For heaven’s sake, Matron, not again! the doctor exclaimed, screwing up his face.

The matron grabbed the end of her apron and, wrapping her hand in it, brushed the objectionable article away from the patient’s lap and on to the floor. Gracie instinctively reached out to catch it, but the matron pushed her back.

You are a disgusting creature, Gracie Brickenborough! she said, slapping her patient’s face. Gracie yelped and cowered away, holding her soiled hands to her

Reviews for Death Takes a Lover

[Crabbypatty · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

An odd Victorian mystery set in the gloomy Yorkshire moors. DS Billings has been sent from Scotland Yard to investigate a death of young Mr. Thornton. His suspects are the mother, the butler, the cook and the maid.

It's a macabre tale of "an isolated place and isolation can do queer things to the mind. Sometimes we need other people to anchor us. Stop us from straying too far into the byways of our own minds and fancies. To prevent our inner demons from taking over and running riot."

And DS Billings knows about inner demons more than most as he is a morphine addict and desperately finding his sexuality.