Book Review: Murder by Lamplight by Patrice McDonough

We’ve been here before, examining a mutilated body in the fetid alleys of London’s East End. It’s November 1886, decades before Jack the Ripper terrorized the unfortunate citizens of Whitechapel, in London. The murderer is on the scene, watching, and congratulating himself.

Look at me. Look what I have wrought, he wanted to crow.

 

No, he’d stay quiet, behind the fourth wall, invisible. It was still early in the first act, and he’d planned an open-ended run.

 

He watched them wince and cringe, relishing the final shock as the scene ended. And that woman—an unexpected addition to his ensemble—he’d add her to the script. Why not?

 

Doctors. They’re just as guilty.

Scotland Yard’s Inspector Richard Tennant is on the scene. He’s surprised, even skeptical, when he sees a female examining the corpse. Dr. Julia Lewis obtained her medical degree in the United States because that opportunity was denied her in Britain: she’s been practicing alongside her grandfather, Dr. Andrew Lewis, for four years. Tennant asked Dr. Andrew for assistance, but he was unable to come: Dr. Julia came in his place. Inspector Tennant is “a Crimean War veteran with lingering physical and psychological wounds.” His investigative techniques do not always meet with favor: he’s fortunate that his godfather, “the commissioner of Scotland Yard, Sir Richard Mayne,” keeps a weather eye out for him. In 1866, a female at a crime scene would be almost unheard of—and this crime is particularly gruesome—but Julia’s charitable acts are known to the bobbies. She overhears them muttering, “Bloody hell. It’s the Saint of Spitalfields.” They warn her that she’s never seen a corpse like this one. The dead man is naked from below the waist, with a bloody hand covering his genitals—it’s Julia’s first time examining a murder victim but she’s damned if she’ll let that be known.

One of the constables groaned when she exposed the gory mess hidden there. He reached reflexively to cover his crotch.

 

Julia looked over her shoulder at Tennant. “Have your officers searched the area carefully, Inspector?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“I should have them look again. The killer may have discarded the man’s—”   The stricken expression on a on a young constable’s face stopped her. “You may find the victim’s member somewhere nearby.”

 

They’ll probably never find it, Julia thought. Carried off by feral cats, most likely. And rats had been busy with the fingertips and earlobes.

 

She stood up. “Not as much blood as one might expect; the mutilation must have happened postmortem.” She walked around the body. “Sodomized as well, it seems.”

Is it somehow worse that the victim was a clergyman? Tennant asks Julia to have her report ready for the next day. He’s struck by its lucidity and comprehensiveness, but he has questions, saying, “Sometimes valuable impressions or intuitions don’t make it into a clinical report.” Julia queries that—does he really want “female fancy,” not just “facts and observations?” They get down to brass tacks. Did the killer require specialized knowledge? No. Julia says all that “was required was a steady hand and a sharp knife.” Then Tennant comes to the crux of his questions.

“And a good deal of anger?”

 

“Perhaps. It certainly seems quite . . . personal.” Again, he observed that amused glint. “I suppose that’s an absurd understatement. What could be more so than such an intimate attack?”

 

“Indeed. I have one last question. Did you find any evidence that the victim was assaulted—I mean raped—by his assailant?”

 

“I would have included it in my report if I had. Still, I can’t rule it out. He may have sodomized the deceased with that stick after the act.”

Dr. Julia Lewis is brisk, competent, and defensive. She’s such a rara avis that she’s put up with more than her fair share of disdain and criticism. Tennant doesn’t quite know what to make of her. He recognizes that she’s lugging “a chip the size of a plank on her shoulder,” but being a fair-minded man, he understands why. 

Still, Dr. Lewis was right about the murder. Tennant felt it in his bones. It was personal, and the answer was hiding somewhere in the life of the Reverend Mr. Atwater.

Soon enough Tennant has need to consult with Dr. Julia again. Another body is found—and the manner of death mirrors the horrors of the clergyman’s murder. Police live for patterns because they reveal “tantalizing clues.” This murderer is smart though, Lewis and Tennant are constantly on the back foot. They’re trying to solve an indescribably difficult puzzle with too many of the pieces missing. When the murderer’s letters point to Dr. Julia as a potential target, the investigation takes on heightened urgency. 

Murder by Lamplight is the first Dr. Julia Lewis Mystery. Is there a future, on a more personal level, for Richard and Julia?  Lady Alrich, Julia’s aunt, thinks so: “And don’t underestimate Richard Tennant. He might be just the sort of man to marry an unconventional partner. For someone of his class, his choice of profession makes him almost as unusual as you.” We’ll have to wait and see but, in the meantime, enjoy this debut historical mystery. I guarantee the murderer will surprise you. Brava Patrice McDonough.