by Lyndsay Faye
“ ‘Oh, hello, Mr. Holmes,’ Evers said, wiping a smudge of ink from his fingers with a kerchief as he emerged from behind the desk to greet us.
“Evers was a short, husky fellow with a round face, a milky blond complexion, and a habit of conducting conversations with his gaze riveted to his hands, which were constantly in motion. He would glance periodically at his listener, but more often he was scratching away in the ledger, brushing a cloth over the register and counter, dusting the stock, et cetera. Though he was friendly in a forgettable way and popular with the clientele, I had always enjoyed my conversations with Vamberry to the point where I had paid Evers scant attention. Now I read a residence near the wineshop in his boots, and ‘Durham University’ in his tiepin.
“ ‘Mr. Vamberry has been filling you in, has he?’ Mr. Evers shook my hand. ‘Dreadful business, absolutely appalling, and without any sign whatsoever of a break-in. We don’t know what to think, sir.’
“Mr. Antonio Manente abruptly ceased his pacing to listen to his colleague. Since he primarily kept the back stock organized and unloaded deliveries, I’d not often glimpsed him, and I was deeply struck by his appearance. You know, Watson, that I hardly ever look anyone in the eye at a level angle, and this chap was well over six feet. His hair was cut very close and yet curled into tenaciously thick tangles like the wool of a black lamb, and his dark brows were painted finely over keenly alert brown eyes. He had clasped his hands in a polite but unnatural manner behind his back, and when he turned to resume his anxious wanderings, I saw that they twitched worriedly.
“ ‘But there must have been a break-in. Please say it is so,’ he requested in the warm, avid timbre of the native Sicilian.
“ ‘I fear not,’ Mr. Vamberry replied, visibly woeful, ‘though we have only Mr. Holmes’s facility to go on so far. Perhaps the official police will see something he has missed.’
“This was a farcical suggestion, Watson, but I for decorum’s sake held my tongue.
“ ‘Is it not then possible that a customer has made off with them while we worked?’ Mr. Manente exclaimed in shriller tones.
“ ‘I hardly think so,’ Mr. Evers put in ruefully, resuming his seat. ‘That’s what makes this all so dashed disconcerting. They’d have to have been bold as brass—the frames are still here, and it must have taken some little effort to remove the pages. But perhaps an expert lockpick came in the dead of night and took all the time he wanted over the heist, leaving few traces. We can only hope the police discover some clue as to the villain’s identity.’
“ ‘Police, ha—God, I wish there were no need for them, but perhaps you speak true.’
“ ‘It’s the suspense that has me rattled and nothing more, though of course I regret your loss very much, Mr. Vamberry. I say search us both top to toe and be done with it.’
“ ‘Disgraceful!’ the other exclaimed, eyes wide. ‘Why should I be searched? I have done nothing, I tell you, nothing!’
“ ‘Come, Manente, calm yourself. Surely you need not object to a search if you’re guiltless.’
“ ‘Oh, I couldn’t search either one of you unless as a very last resort, lads,’ Mr. Vamberry protested tremulously.
“ ‘Very good of you too, sir,’ said Evers, ‘though if it becomes necessary, you must not hesitate simply to spare our feelings, eh, Manente?’
“Manente’s lips pursed in agreement, but he remained silent, and I sensed tension between the two workers which had nothing to do with the uncomfortable situation in which they found themselves.
“ ‘Gentlemen, I wonder if you would agree to assist me, as your testimony might well prove invaluable and Mr. Vamberry prizes your judgment and discretion so,’ I appealed to them. ‘He has agreed to let me pose you one or two queries, in an effort to avoid any unpleasantness in the police court, if possible, and to attempt to learn all we can before they arrive. Have you any objection? I should be very grateful for your aid, both of you—I am a student of the art of detection, and have solved some dozens of crimes without the aid of the Yard.’
“ ‘By Jove, an amateur sleuth!’ Evers exclaimed as he patted a stack of papers into order.
“ ‘Consulting detective,’ I could not help correcting him.
“ ‘Eh? Well, whatever you call it, I am more than happy to assist. Manente?’
“ ‘Question as you like.’ He shrugged, but a twitch below his left eye betrayed his discomfiture. ‘I’ve stolen nothing and wish only to see this quickly finished.’
“ ‘Thank you. Your help will be most beneficial for everyone involved, I hope. If I might question Mr. Evers confidentially first, and then Mr. Manente.’
“The others promptly left us, and I sat down at the side of the desk opposite to Evers, crossing my legs and giving him a thorough study. He smiled at me briefly, then returned his attention to his pen, ink, and blotter, rearranging them.
“ ‘It is a shame that one of your shipments of wine was discovered to be poorly corked this morning,’ I began in a friendly fashion.
“Evers at once glanced up again. ‘How on earth did you guess that?’ he exclaimed. ‘Do you know, you might really make something of this detective business, sir. Yes, a case of Chianti arrived and proved after inspection to be absolutely undrinkable. Some spoilage is inevitable, of course, but this was disappointing. How did you know?’
“ ‘You’ve a faint scattering of minuscule red spots on your trouser leg, just where a fine spray of red wine would land if you were depositing an inferior product down the drainage grate. I can hardly think how else you could come by such a stain. Apart from that, you are presently requesting reimbursement from the vintner,’ I added with a wry nod at his ledger. ‘Cork taint is the only possible suspect when it comes to the disposal of unsold stock—so you see, there is no mystery in it.’
“ ‘None at all.’ He laughed. ‘But how you baffled me. I’d thought you very clever indeed for a moment.’
“ ‘I may not be clever, but I confess myself surprised. By reading upside-down I can see that it was a Nacarelli shipment you found lacking. You may have observed that I’ve purchased wine from that vineyard myself, and always found it quite palatable. Even Mr. Vamberry recommends it.’
“ ‘Winemaking is a delicate enough procedure that the best of houses can sometimes find themselves in the wrong. But you seem not to be questioning me upon the subject at hand, Mr. Holmes.’
“ ‘True enough. Frankly, I cannot credit you as the culprit.’ I shrugged, affecting to brush a thread from my trouser leg with a bored expression. ‘Had you wanted that codex, surely you would have made your move years ago. You have worked here for some time, have you not?’
“ ‘Five years, Mr. Holmes.’
“ ‘Quite so. I only wanted to know what you thought of Mr. Manente.’
“ ‘Ah.’ Evers leaned back in his chair, looking regretful. ‘You saw his demeanor earlier. He seems most . . . disturbed at the notion of a personal search. I don’t know him at all well, I’m afraid, since we work at such disparate tasks here and he is not the most convivial of men. As for myself, I only wish Mr. Vamberry would empty our pockets and raid our briefcases, for I’ve nothing to hide in this sordid business.’
“ ‘Even if you are not confidential with Mr. Manente, can you tell me more about him? Do you know of any debts to his name, any stain upon his character?’
“Evers fiddled with the pen, bit his lower lip, and gave every indication that he disliked this line of questioning. ‘I wish I could say no, Mr. Holmes. But I fear I cannot divulge what I’ve learned of his past to you either. I’m sorry, for I did promise to assist, but you understand that I don’t want to see him judged unfairly, even though we are not close. After you’ve spoken with him, depending upon his candor . . . well, well, perhaps then I’ll be forced to betray his confidence, but not before.’
“After this exchange, I sent Evers on h
is way and called in Mr. Manente. He was in a most pitiable state of nerves, Watson, with hands once again clasped behind him, and his rich complexion faded to ash. I reached out my own hand in greeting, and he took it readily enough, however, with a firmness of grip which suggested that his agitation was not due to any innate weakness of character.
“ ‘I hope not to keep you terribly long. Mr. Manente, how did you pass your day?’ I began.
“ ‘Unpacking crates, sorting stock, cleaning,’ he said dully. Rather than take the chair Evers had vacated, he resumed pacing. ‘I will not stand for this, I tell you. To be treated like a rat or a dog. I will not have my property searched, and that is all. My conscience is clear, whether Mr. Evers thinks so or not.’ ”
“Surely this attitude seemed very odd to you,” I put in, moving to replenish our supply of Tokay. A little of the color had returned to my friend’s bone-white complexion, a happy sign to say the least. “Why should an innocent man act so guiltily, if not because he had counted upon Mr. Vamberry’s absence that day and then found himself in danger of discovery?”
“Why, indeed,” Holmes agreed, holding out his glass. “Well, I am afraid that I required the answer to that identical question urgently. ‘Mr. Manente,’ said I, ‘I know all about your criminal record, and I am prepared to overlook it after you’ve told me truthfully about the contents of your briefcase, whatsoever those contents may be.’ ”
My jaw dropped, and Holmes laughed. “Mr. Manente bore an expression not dissimilar to yours, my dear Watson, though his was tinged with considerably more fear. When he asked me how I knew of such a thing, his breath strained and his knees quivering, I told him readily enough. You see, I don’t believe that Mr. Manente was hiding his hands from me deliberately—on the contrary, he was indulging a nervous tic. But I had determined that I should scrutinize them more closely, and when I had shaken his hand, I’d felt a series of callosities along the flesh of his upper palm. I’d also caught a glimpse of the skin at his collar, and that rather proved the point conclusively.”
“Then I should be grateful to know what point, and how it was proved.”
“With pleasure. He had been operating either a plow, a handcart, or a treadmill, and recently. Even so raw and untested as I was, I felt them at once—deep lateral hardenings of the pad directly below the fingers—but I might have taken him for a former farmer or stevedore if I’d not noted his skin coloration.”
“Which was significant in what fashion?”
“His pigmentation was darker far than mine, but neither damaged by sun nor roughened by wind, and, I observed, very faintly paler when his head turned and his collar shifted. An old, faded summer’s demarcation but a clear one. I cannot believe that any farmer would wear a paper collar in the field, nor can I picture one on the men pushing handcarts down at the quays. In the dock, when a man is put to hard labor, it is almost always indoors. He had always previously dressed as a gentleman, and roughened his hands while serving his time.”
“Wonderful!” I exclaimed.
“Surely superficial to one such as yourself, who knows my methods,” he said, but I caught the glint of pride in his steely eye. “And yet, marvelous enough that Manente all but collapsed into the chair at last.
“ ‘Try to ruin me, then,’ said he, fiercely. ‘I can see that you and Evers are in it together. But I know my own character, even if—’
“ ‘Softly, for heaven’s sake!’ I interrupted him. ‘Now. Six months’ hard labor is my guess, judging by the callosities on your hands, and I assure you that Evers has told me nothing as yet, though he strongly hinted he knew more than he said. What were you booked for?’
“ ‘Manslaughter with a reduced sentence,’ he answered hoarsely. ‘I’d have served ten times that, by God—though if true justice had been done, I’d have been a free man after the trial. It was a pig died, not a human, and it broke its own neck without my aid.’
“Finally, Watson, my brain managed to slot two pieces of the puzzle together; I was not then quite so trained in my mental acuity as now, and the necessary data had been teasing at the edge of my mind in the most maddening fashion. But I have always devoured the London dailies with considerable appetite, and Manente’s story flooded suddenly and completely into my mind.
“ ‘Christina Manente,’ I supplied. ‘Your sister—she testified at trial to having been pursued for months by a drunken brute from the neighborhood. She was dogged relentlessly by the fiend and had become terrified to so much as set foot outdoors. On the last occasion you evicted him from her presence, he fell down the stairs in a drunken stupor, and his mother brought charges of murder against you, saying you pushed him deliberately. The press made something of a lurid romance of it. I take it you said nothing of your role in this drama to Mr. Vamberry?’
“ ‘The last five establishments would not hire me when I was forthright. So I was silent. I have a wife, children. Must they starve because I love my sister also?’
“ ‘I take it that something to do with your past presently resides in your briefcase?’
“ ‘Court documents. I am due to meet the bailsman this evening to make a final payment, then all will be over and done with.’ Learning forward exhaustedly, he rubbed at his temples. ‘Do you suppose me a thief, Mr. Holmes?’
“ ‘Not a bit of it. I suppose Mr. Evers an opportunist.’
“ ‘Why so?’ he asked. ‘I do not like him—he flatters the customers and persuades them to buy wines they cannot afford. But never have I had reason to think him a criminal.’
“ ‘Any clever man who planned to steal a work of art, knowing that he would be one of two prime suspects, would act only if he thought he could make the other appear guilty. I posit that Evers recognized you from the newspapers and hit on the lucky notion of framing a guiltless man. He seems to fear nothing from a search, so he must be absolutely sure of his hiding place.’
“ ‘In any event, I am ruined. If Mr. Vamberry opens my briefcase—’
“ ‘It won’t come to that,’ I said, a rush of confidence overwhelming me as I leapt to my feet. A sudden inspiration had struck. ‘We shall circumvent a search altogether, with luck on our side. Follow me!’
“We hurried into the front room, where Vamberry and Evers stood with a most impatient-seeming officer of the Yard. Almost at once, I saw what I was looking for—a small crate of wine sat upon a handcart, ready for delivery. The bottles within were of a very dark green hue, which of course you recognize was of the utmost importance, Watson.
“ ‘I don’t know who the devil this Sherlock Holmes is, or thinks he is,’ the policeman was declaring, ‘but if you want my help—’
“ ‘I see you’ve a delivery to make, Mr. Evers,’ I interjected. ‘Six bottles, and the glass of very heavy Italian manufacture. I don’t wonder that you’ve elected to use a cart.’
“He went pale at this, though his posture remained unchanged. ‘I don’t see why it should interest you,’ he muttered.
“ ‘Only because of late I have been practicing feats of physical strength,’ I returned casually. ‘Let me provide you all with a demonstration of my progress.’
“With that, I lifted the crate and balanced the whole of it upon one palm.”
I could not contain a peal of laughter at my companion’s all too typical theatrics, and he grinned easily in return.
“Quite a commotion ensued, my dear chap, for Evers knew the game was up and made as if to run for it, and the policeman had a sprightly time of wrestling him into a pair of darbies. You see by now what had happened. The wine Evers discarded had been perfectly drinkable. He required the bottles for their opacity and, after washing them out, had dried them thoroughly with the cotton wool I’d discovered. What better way to spirit the codex out of a wine store than inside bottles of wine? When Vamberry opened them, he at once found his treasure, rolled up in six sheets of black paper within the glass.”
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“He must have been very grateful to you indeed.”
“Oh, he was,” Holmes owned, chuckling. “He gave me as a reward a case of excellent brandy, which you might possibly recollect from your earliest days at Baker Street.”
“Good heavens, yes—that brandy was outstanding. It must have taken us three years to finish it all.”
“Two years, eight months, I think. Anyhow, when his scheme fell to pieces, a desperate and vengeful Evers revealed Manente’s secret past and claimed that his fellow clerk hid the codex in the bottles, but his groundless accusations came to nothing; I made sure of it. Evers was soon found to have lost a small fortune in wild speculation, and of course Vamberry was too good a chap to sack Manente for nothing, as I’d supposed all along. Manente was most effusive in his gratitude, and soon thereafter had ended his dealings with the Yard and celebrated his freedom with a promotion from the estimable Vamberry to head clerk. A man guilty of nothing save protecting his loved ones freed, a cunning schemer exposed, a gentleman’s property restored, and a pair of bachelors ensconced in new Westminster lodgings with a truly outstanding supply of spirits. A salubrious ending in every manner, eh?”
“Absolutely first-rate, my dear fellow,” said I, angling my glass to him. “My cap is off to you.”
“It was a very simple matter,” he demurred. “But suitable for a leisurely tale on a cold winter’s night.”
I slipped into a reverie, as will inevitably happen at the closing of a year, and thought about my friend and his incredible talent, and about the incalculable number of Londoners who had at one time or another appealed to him for help when the darkness appeared to have closed in upon them irrevocably. It would be a travesty and a disgrace, I mused, if I—a medical professional and one in the singular position of calling myself his friend—could not wean him of the habits which would ultimately destroy his incomparable powers, no matter the frustrations and the setbacks that such a project would surely entail. If I would do as much to save a stranger from self-destruction, how much more would I do for Sherlock Holmes? Finishing my wine, as nightfall’s ashen clouds gathered outside our window, I determined anew to stop at nothing in this worthy aim. With the sense of calm which follows such resolutions, I glanced up to find myself the subject of minute study by the most prescient observer of the age.
