The Strange Case of Hellish Nell by Nina Shandler

Author:Nina Shandler [NINA SHANDLER]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Da Capo Press
Published: 2011-12-27T00:00:00+00:00

26

An Extraordinary Rivalry

AS MR. KIRBY RAISED HIS HAND AND POINTED A FINGER AT HARRY Price,1 heads swiveled to catch sight of the infamous investigator of psychic phenomena. With the haughty nod of a celebrity who relishes recognition, Price’s lips parted, his bottom teeth showed, and the corners of his mouth twisted upward. Price did not smile; he expressed pleasure with a sneer.2 Radiating power as hard and hot as a branding iron, he fixed his gaze on Henry Duncan. In response, the blood drained from Duncan’s face. The weasel never had fulfilled his obligation to Price.3

So many years had passed since Mr. Duncan betrayed his wife. A shamed dog, his tail between his legs, Duncan had scurried out of Price’s laboratory, clinging to one purpose: to save his own hide. He scampered two blocks due west to the white-columned premises of Price’s Spiritualist rivals. Cornering Mr. Fielding-Ould, their venerated president, Duncan spouted his newly enlightened conviction: His wife was a bogus medium.4

Having scoured all possible soil from his own reputation, Mr. Duncan dropped by St. Thomas’s Hospital. Helen Duncan did not take lightly the news of her husband’s abandonment. The woman nearly killed herself by downing a half bottle of Eusol, a chlorinated lime and boric acid solution. The nurses wrestled the carafe from her grip. The medical staff pumped her stomach clean, and Mrs. Duncan survived.5

That portion of the tale brought Price only minimal pleasure.

The next installment—where Mrs. Duncan served Miss Mercy Phillimore, the venerated grande dame of Spiritualism, her just desserts—that gave Price unmitigated satisfaction.

Hearing of Mrs. Duncan’s near demise, Miss Phillimore paid a visit to the recuperating patient, hoping to steal a confession straight from the medium’s own lips.

A bouquet in hand, Miss Mercy tiptoed toward Mrs. Duncan: “Dear, dear lady. How are you?”

Seeing an ulterior motive plastered all over the genteel madame’s face, the medium let loose an opinion that resonated with Price’s estimation of the woman. Bolting upright, she shouted, “You’re a bloody sod.”

Undeterred, Miss Mercy clucked, “Why, Mrs. Duncan, we just want to express our sympathy.”

Mrs. Duncan responded with rough eloquence: “Sympathy nothing. A bloody ass creeper is what you are. Get out of my sight you, before I bust your bloody head.”

Miss Mercy scrambled out the door, as fast as her heeled shoes would carry her. With that indelicate threat reverberating, the Spiritualists’ desire to further investigate Mrs. Duncan’s phenomena came to an end.6

Price was not so easily deterred; he devised a fantastic finale.

Rumor reached Price that the Duncans had booked passage to Scotland for June 23, 1931. Price immediately dispatched his flame-haired acolyte, Mrs. Molly Goldney, to intercept the Duncans at their rented home. Mrs. Goldney found belongings boxed and six children ready to go, but Mr. and Mrs. Duncan were not at their residence. Undaunted, Mrs. Goldney tracked the couple down at a devotee’s home on Eaton Terrace. Nearly pulling the wayward Mr. Duncan by his ear, the formidable Mrs. Goldney dragged the scallywag back to Price’s laboratory.7

Scolded for his plan to bolt without notice, Mr.

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