by DAN MONTY
“Um, well no, not at the moment. I’ll get back to you" I said, returning to our table where Holmes was sipping his coffee as If he hadn’t noticed.
“So, what did she say?” Holmes asked and I sighed, folding my arms.
“You know full bloody well what she said! Let’s go! Please? I’m not coming here again.” I replied and Holmes paid the bill.
We returned to Baker street and entered our sitting room. I stood in the window and opened the curtains.
“A bit musty in here, isn’t it, Holmes?” I asked and he closed the curtains and lit his pipe.
“Stop it! I like the must! I must have must!” He replied as he fell into his chair.
“Oh, so that’s it then? You’re going to smoke all day now, are you?” I asked and Holmes shushed me with his finger. Mrs Hudson entered the room and gave Holmes some tea.
“A bit musty in here!” she said and Holmes rolled his eyes as there was a loud knock on the ground floor door.
“I better go and answer that! I’m waiting for my kettle to arrive from Amazon. It's voice operated! Very exciting!” Mrs Hudson went on, scrambling out of the sitting room to answer the door.
“I’ll be in my room. Do try not to blow anything up while I’m gone" I said, climbing the stairs to my room.
I had just barely opened the door when I heard Lestrade’s voice in the sitting room below. I sighed, returning down stairs again and sitting in my chair.
“Inspector! Back so soon?” I asked and Lestrade smiled, sitting on the sofa. In his hand was an evidence bag, no doubt containing the possessions of the recently deceased male.
“Yes, Holmes wanted to see the items we bagged that were found at the crime scene. Bunch of junk if you ask me,” Lestrade said, handing the bag to Holmes as he tipped the contents on the table In front of him.
“I didn’t ask you, inspector. I do however thank you!” Holmes replied, studying each item carefully.
There was a gold watch, a gold chain, seven pounds in change, a gold bulldog pin with rubies set in its eyes, a masonry ring and a pocket book of Mormon.
“Interesting taste in books,” Holmes said quietly, leafing through the book which indeed was inscribed with the name Edward Drebber.
“What’s that then?” I asked and Holmes held up the small blue leather bound book.
“He was a Mormon?” I asked and Holmes nodded seeming lost again in thought.
“Fascinating religion the Mormons, of course not my cup of tea, though it does shine a curious new light on our case" Holmes went on as he studied the gold necklace and pin.
“How so?” Inspector Lestrade asked and Holmes offered the inspector a look.
“How so indeed. Thank you inspector, you’ve been ever so helpful, now if you please my associate and I must rest for the day. We will keep you informed of our discoveries. Good day" Holmes said and Lestrade nodded his head.
“Right then, well I better get this all back to the station house. Hope I haven’t missed too much of the game!” He said, promptly packing up the bag of evidence and walking out the door.
“The game? Is he having a laugh?” I asked and Holmes shook his head.
“The football. Chelsea are playing Manchester United. We have a game of our own to play though. This new development is curious indeed, I must have some time to ponder on this,” Holmes said and I nodded.
“Right, well you ponder. I’m off to bed. My leg is killing me for some reason. Must be the cold,” I said quickly and retreated to my chambers. There wouldn’t be any more intrusions I’d pay any mind to this night. I needed a good rest. Clues were simply going to have to wait.
CHAPTER FOUR: THE BAIT
The next morning, Holmes was in rare form, quietly thinking over the evidence as he spoke to Lestrade on his cell phone. Holmes nodded his head and muttered into the phone. I stepped quietly downstairs and Holmes offered a nod in my direction as he ended the call.
“The ring has me curious, Watson. Have you seen this morning’s Paper?” Holmes asked tossing me a folded over paper, an article that read;
Found; gold wedding ring between the White
Hart Tavern and Holland Grove on Brixton Rd.
Please contact John Watson, 221b Baker St.
“You used my name! Why would you do that? And why would anyone go for a bait like that? It’s absurd! This whole city, and you think someone is going to just come looking for the ring? Besides, I thought you said it belonged to his wife? Or dead wife...” I went on. Holmes rubbed his chin, smiling at me.
“Well I don’t have a ring, Holmes. We just gave all the evidence to Lestrade!” I said, folding my arms. Holmes presented me with a gold ring that looked very close to the one that was now back in evidence, just as Mrs Hudson came into the room. She saw Holmes offering me the ring and she flushed slightly, placing the tea tray on the table and quickly walking out. She probably thought he was proposing.
“So, you place an ad in the paper hoping the killer will read it and panic? Then he’ll of course come looking for the ring!” I said and Holmes shrugged.
“I put that ad in all the papers, and of course it’s possible he will not come himself, but if my theory is correct about this case, it’s highly likely he will send an associate. My instincts are telling me that he will want that ring,” Holmes stated and I tried to ponder exactly why he felt the killer would be so caught up about the ring.
“I don’t understand, are you saying the ring is in fact his?” I asked and Holmes shook his head.
“No, it’s a woman’s wedding ring, but my suspicion is there is more to it than meets the eye. Trust me Watson. There’s always a method to my madness!” Holmes said and he looked me up and down.
“Do you have a gun?” Holmes asked and I sighed.
“I have a small pistol, yes. Why?” I begged and Holmes ignored the question.
“Make sure it’s loaded. I have had an answer to one of the ads already and a person is on their way. I’d like to be ready for anything" Holmes said and I sighed, heading upstairs to grab my pistol. I ventured to my bedside drawer, withdrawing the pistol from under a towel and making sure it was still loaded. I stuffed the pistol into my pocket.
When I returned downstairs, Mrs Hudson was not escorting a man into the sitting room, but a frail old lady whom Holmes helped into one of the chairs. I suddenly felt silly with the pistol in my pocket.
“Oh my! Thank goodness! Sally will be over the moon it’s been found!” The old woman said to Holmes as he passed her the ring. She lit a cigarette with a Zippo.
“What is the address, madam?” Holmes asked and the woman sighed.
“13, Duncan street Houndsditch. My Sally dropped her ring at the circus last night! She’s only been married a year! If her husband catches her without it I’m sure there will be Hell to pay!” the old woman said, Holmes rubbing his chin.
“There is no circus between the Brixton Road and Houndsditch...” Holmes said quietly to the elder woman who nodded.
“Yes, her... man asked me to fetch it for him. His name is Dennis, Tom Dennis. I’m Mrs Sawyer. Sally Dennis lives at 3 Mayfield place in Peckham. Tom’s a lovely man. He’ll be so happy my daughter has her ring again, silly girl! You never lose your wedding ring! That’s what I always say, Mr. Watson!” She said to Holmes, no doubt thinking he was the Watson who ran the ad. Holmes handed her the ring with a smile.
“There you go, Mrs Sawyer. Good to see it go back to its rightful owner! Good Mormon to you!” Holmes said and Mrs Sawyer looked shocked, her expression changing to an uneasy smile. She relaxed again and gratefully thanked him before leaving the building.
Holmes stood up from his chair, walking over to the window and peering out into the street.
“Good Mormon to you? What are you playing at, Holmes? That was a bit cheeky!” I said, Holmes grinning.
“She knows the killer, I’m certain of it!” Holmes said with ease.
“The victim was a Mormon and frankly I wanted to see how she’d react
to my faux paus! I’m going to follow her, Watson. My guess is, it is exactly as I suspected! She must be an accomplice! I give you my word, I have him now! Don’t wait up!” Holmes said, pulling on his long coat and stepping for the door.
“Well, either your theory is absolute bollocks, or you’re onto something. Either way, I need to rest my leg. I’m not missing Eastenders to run around the streets of London today!” I said, pouring myself some tea and easing into my chair. Holmes winked at me, running out of the sitting room and taking off out of the building.
*****
It was around midnight when Holmes returned, a smile on his face. I had been reading by the fire, eager as always in wait of his return to hear of his adventure. That said, I had also indulged in a night of reality television and half watching a bizarre game show where contestants duelled to the death. Apparently, two women had to fight in a dome for the heart of a bachelor, the loser finding a gruesome death and the winner taking her man to marry. English television was almost getting as bad as American.
Holmes stepped into the sitting room, easing into his chair across from mine. I placed a bookmark in my novel and placed a hand under my chin in anticipation.
“So? I trust your evening went well?” I asked and Holmes relaxed into the comfortable leather of his chair.
“Well, it’s a funny story I suppose. I don’t mind telling a tale that might make a fool out of me,” he started and at that he had my attention.
“I followed this... lady... Watson. She limped along Baker street seeming very tired and sore, hailing a cab at a hail post. I took note of the bald driver and his cab plates in case I lost her. The great cab flew down to meet her as I managed to hail a second. Indeed I did hear her tell the driver to take her to 13 Duncan St Houndsditch, and I had my own driver follow her cab quietly. And so our cabs soared over London, through the towering metropolis. I got a lovely photo of the sky turning a lovely pink. After landing, I made sure my cab landed a good distance away from her so that I would be able to watch her, and as I got out of the cab I noticed a curious thing. The woman was wearing a holosuit! Her limp was fake and all of a sudden, the woman did not look quite so old at all! Her wrinkled features dissolving away to reveal a youthful man of no more than forty or so!” Holmes said and I was stunned. I leant forward, dying to hear more.
“You mean to say... that old woman wasn’t an old woman at all?” I asked and Holmes smiled.
“Oh my dear Watson, it gets better than that! I watched him walk to the building, then he took off running down the street. I gave chase, but lost the man in the crowd of oddly dressed punks and misfits, pushers and pimps. I looked everywhere, but the man had vanished. I returned to the doorman at the door as to inquire who lived at the address. Apparently, the number 13 belonged to a man named Keswick, and no one by the name Sawyer or Dennis had ever been heard of there! The man also did not return to that address! It was a ruse, Watson!” Holmes exclaimed.
I shook my head, covering my eyes in shock.
“It would seem I have had the wool pulled over my eyes, Watson, at least for now. Clever trick, but whoever it was he certainly did not live at that address! They had likely pulled the address out of a hat! I never saw it coming, Watson! However it does show that our killer is not a lonely man. He has friends, and spry ones at that! He moved so quickly! I do not suspect he was the killer himself though. I think the true killer would not risk collecting the ring and being discovered so early in the game, no. Whoever this young man was he was likely an accomplice! Possibly one of many. Perhaps things will look better again in the light of day,” Holmes said as he sighed, lighting his pipe.
“A hell of a disguise too I must say!” I said quietly to which Holmes did not reply.
I yawned loudly and nodded my head. To think this great sleuth had seemingly been bested by a common charlatan. In any case, I felt we had both seen enough action for one day. I rose from my chair in the sitting room, bid Holmes goodnight and made my way upstairs. I might have laughed at the whole affair, but part of me felt sorry that Holmes had been wrong about his rather presumptuous theory. That said, clearly a man who was so often right, deserved to know what wrong felt like from time to time. Truthfully though, even then I had no doubt that Holmes would eventually find his killer.
“Circus indeed! I’m such a fool!” Holmes muttered as I walked up the stairs, closing the door behind me. Lord only knew what would come of this. I knew Holmes well enough to know now that he did not take these things lightly. That said, I also knew that he was smarter than the average bear, and despite this small setback, he would get onto it again. Holmes was the kind of man that would not let a small thing come between him and solving the puzzle.
CHAPTER FIVE: GREGSON ON THE CASE
The following morning brought the tabloids, blazing with headlines about the body of the man found in the empty house on Brixton Road. There was everything from wild theories to commentary about the mysterious nature of the body, the victim’s German name and the possible connection to the German word scrawled on the wall in blood.
The papers confirmed the victim was indeed American staying in London at a border house in Torquay Terrace in Camberwell. He had been travelling with his secretary, a man named Joseph Strangerson. The pair had travelled to Euston Station planning to take the Liverpool Express shuttle, and the pair had been seen there at some point. After that, nothing. There was no more known about the matter and no account of how Drebber came to wind up alone and dead on the floor of the empty building.
Naturally, full credit for the finds at the crime scene went to the Scotland Yard detective who had encountered the writing on the wall, a detective Gregson. Holmes had informed me that Scotland Yard would always take the credit for his discoveries as they could not be seen to be working with an outsider.
“You see! Right here! Lestrade and Gregson were able to piece together some useful information to begin the building of what is likely to become a very unusual case! I told you that will get the credit!” Holmes said and I nodded, looking over the paper.
“Yes, well they haven’t caught the killer yet, so anything could happen. I said as the sound of slight feet stamping up the stairs caught my attention.
“What’s that noise?” I asked and Holmes smiled as a group of filthy street kids in ragged clothing stepped into the sitting room, accompanied by Mrs Hudson, who looked much more worried about them getting filth on the carpets and floors.
“Ah good! My Baker Street Detectives! Wonderful!” Holmes said, rising from his chair and walking over to them.
“In future, you need only send Wiggins. The rest of you... scoundrels can wait outside. Poor Mrs Hudson could have a heart attack, is that clear?” Holmes asked and the children nodded.
“Good. Wiggins? Report! Have you found it?” Holmes asked and a little boy stepped forward, missing two front teeth and his head covered in a mop of Sandy blonde hair. He was eating a candy bar and smiling.
“No, Mr Holmes, not yet sadly..” The boy named Wiggins replied and Holmes nodded in understanding.
“I did not expect you would. Very well, please keep looking until you do. Here are your wages!” He said, removing a handful of change and candies from his pockets. The kids cheered and I rolled my eyes as Holmes sent the lads on their way again.
“Are these children in your employ, Holmes? Surely they aren’t working with us on the Brixton case!” I said as Holmes rushed over to the window, pulling back the drapes and peering outside.
“Yes, and here comes some more fun, old boy! Here comes Gregson in a flying Police cruiser. He’s landing and... there he is!” Holmes said joyfully.
Gregson burst into the sitting room a few moments later and Holmes refused to get up from his seat.
“I knew I would prove I was better than you, Holmes! First the message on the wall and now this! I believe congratulations are in order! You... owe me that" Gregson said, the detective full of himself as always.
“Oh forgive me, you are
finally on the right path then to finding our man?” Holmes asked sarcastically and Gregson only laughed, bending down and speaking to Holmes face to face.
“I can go one better! We bloody well have him, Holmes! He’s behind our laser shields as we speak!” Gregson said with a laugh.
“I see, and his name is?” Holmes asked only mildly amused.
“Arthur Charpentier! Of her Majesty's Royal space Navy. I’ve done it Holmes!” Gregson said, puffing out his chest and Holmes motioned for him to sit opposite him in the other chair.
“Alright, Gregson, how did you suddenly arrive at this incredible conclusion. Wow me with your brilliant skills of deduction.” Holmes said, continuing his sarcastic manner.
“Well, while that bloody Lestrade is all busy going after the secretary Strangerson, which is a ridiculous move by the way! Anyway, remember the hat that was with the body?” Tobias Gregson asked and Holmes nodded his head. He had briefly examined the item himself.
“Yes, the one from that place on Camperbell Road. It’s an Underwood and Sons hat, they are based at 129 I think...” Holmes said and Gregson looked shocked.
“Yes! Well you even knew that? Thought it was just a little thing myself" Gregson replied.
“To a great mind, nothing is little" Holmes replied and Gregson smiled, nodding in agreement.
“Yes well I spoke to Mr Underwood! Yeah, I asked him if he’s sold any hats that matched that description recently, giving that our victim was from out of town. He told me he had and even gave me the address! A Mr Drebber at Torquay Terrace in a boarding house there!” Gregson went on, pausing for a reaction but hardly getting one from Holmes.
“Go on" Holmes pressed and Gregson did just that.
“I spoke to the woman in charge of the boarding house, very sad she was. Her daughter looked a bit troubled herself, so I thought to myself something was amiss, yeah? So I asked if she had heard her boarder had died, mentioning Edward Drebber. She nodded, barely able to speak... but get this, her daughter bursts into tears! Bloody tears! She was a right mess, she was! I asked her what time Edward had headed out for the train and she said eight o’clock. Apparently there were two trains according to his secretary, a nine fifteen and an eleven, so the secretary Strangerson was aiming to catch the first. I asked them was that the last time they saw him and then they got a bit quiet. The daughter piped up and said it wasn’t and the mother nearly scolded her! The daughter, Alice her name was, she left the room and the Madam Charpentier and I had a nice little chat...”
