Treachery in Torquay

by Lawler, W. P. ;

  If I expected my charming words to have some type of calming effect on the young girl’s mother, I was dreadfully wrong, for she clearly was not dropping her guard.

  “Doctor Watson,” she replied firmly, “while your words are no doubt honest efforts to ease my suspicions, I’ll need to hear much more from you and your friend as to the true purpose of tonight’s gathering.”

  At that remark, Holmes laughed his hearty laugh. It was rarely manifest, but always indicated some level of personal embarrassment. After another uneasy pause, Holmes smiled, bowing politely to Agatha’s mother.

  “You find this situation entertaining, Mr. Holmes?” Clara Miller asked, raising her voice as she rose from her chair.

  “My dear lady,” Holmes quickly responded, “I beg of you. Won’t you please return to your seat. I’m sure that if you give us an opportunity to explain, we will all have a most enjoyable evening together. I must assure you that my laugh was in no way meant as sign of disrespect, honestly. I was merely caught off guard by both your frankness and quite understandable concern for this unsolicited dinner invitation!”

  Holmes took a sip of sherry which our waiter had provided, then continued, “I fully expected that Aggie would have a most difficult time convincing you to come to dinner with two individuals who are total strangers. Still, I made the offer, sensing that your young girl, here, could be quite convincing, given the chance. Finally, having met Aggie, I knew that I simply had to meet the mother of such a talented young lady. Please accept our most humble apologies and let us enjoy our evening together. Afterward, I shall explain all of the events that have led to this meeting.”

  Clara Miller seemed to have softened somewhat at my friend’s words and returned to her chair, replacing her dinner napkin. While this curious exchange was taking place, I turned to see how young was dealing with the recent turn of events. She sat there mouth agape as Holmes continued to try to allay her mother’s concerns.

  After yet another uncomfortable pause, our waiter returned and dinner orders were taken. It still took a few more minutes for Clara Miller to come to terms with Holmes’s remarks. She looked over at her young daughter and smiled softly.

  “Mr. Holmes,” Aggie’s mother spoke calmly, “I know what you and Doctor Watson do, professionally. I know why you have come to our town. You are here in Torquay, no doubt, because of the recent murders. Aggie and I have discussed these heinous crimes over the last several months, and I must admit, we are of the opinion that they may continue until the perpetrators are captured. I also believe that my dear sweet Aggie’s curiosity about you and Doctor Watson has led her to spy on you. For that I am truly sorry.”

  “She has been particularly fond of your case accounts, Doctor Watson,” Clara Miller continued, looking directly into my eyes.

  Suddenly, she focused on her daughter, “Am I right, Missy?”

  At her mother’s remarks, Aggie dropped her head, looking away from us in youthful embarrassment.

  Quickly, Holmes offered, “Well, Mrs. Miller, I can see where your daughter gets her candor.”

  Replacing his glass on the table, my friend continued, “Why, yes, Mrs. Miller, your daughter recognized us at this hotel and covertly tracked us to our quarters.”

  “I might add, it was a wonderful job of reconnaissance, by the way,” the detective stated, winking at the young girl.

  Aggie sat there, nervously sensing the awkwardness of the moment. I wanted to say something to lessen the tension, but the words were not forthcoming.

  At that moment, the conductor of the choir of youngsters tapped his baton on his music stand and began his address to the audience seated at their tables.

  “Ladies, gentlemen, girls and boys,” he said, “thank you so much for your kind attention. We now invite you all to join us in a rousing rendition of Deck the Halls.”

  Much applause followed his directive and for at least several minutes, we all were swept up in the happier aspects of that joyous time of the year. At the completion of their performance, the carolers took their bows and quietly left the room to much fanfare from the smiling audience.

  Clara Miller wasted no time in voicing her next inquiry. “Gentlemen,” she posited, “would I be correct in assuming that my shy little one has offered to help you?”

  Aggie turned a most elegant shade of pink and once more hid her face in the dinner napkin.

  Holmes smiled and replied directly, “Clara, may I call you Clara? Ah, yes, as a matter of truth, Aggie did offer her services and for that we are most grateful. At first, I hesitated, having concerns similar to the ones you’ve recently postulated. Please understand that we would never think of placing anyone, let alone a wonderful young girl like Aggie, in harm’s way. Why, no parent would ever allow such a dangerous request to be granted! How could we even think of involving Aggie in our investigation?”

  Clara Miller began to relax after Holmes’s response, but shorty, thereafter my friend continued.

  “That was my initial reaction to her generous offer,” Holmes confided. “Yes, I was about to politely decline when another idea popped into my mind.”

  Clara listened intently as my friend leaned toward her and pointed his index finger to his cranium.

  “Doctor Watson and I have come to Torquay to offer our help to the local law enforcement agency. Chief Inspector Davis contacted me several months ago. Coincidentally, I received a letter from Mr. James Cary, father of your Aggie’s best friend, Margaret. He was also very concerned about the recent murders and as leader of the Town Council, he believed that Dr. Watson and I might be able to hasten the resolution of these horrible murders.”

  “Suddenly,” he continued, “I reasoned that Aggie, with her intricate knowledge of Torquay and, in particular, Torre Abbey, could prove to be a most valuable asset, simply by being Aggie! You understand, don’t you? In making frequent visits to Torre Abbey, she could keep us apprised of any strange goings-on, or note any changes that she might observe in her travels here and there.”

  When he had explained his plans for Aggie, he looked around the table for some sense of approval. Mrs. Miller had listened with apparent interest, and was about to speak, when the table staff arrived with our dinners.

  Seeing an opportunity to relieve the obvious tension that was present, I suggested, “I say, why don’t we leave our conversation for a time and enjoy these wonderful meals and listen to the peaceful music of the season?”

  All agreed with my suggestion and the four of us started on our meals in earnest. Table conversations turned to more innocent and less threatening topics. Whether it was the beautiful seasonal decorations in which we found ourselves, the delightful carols, or the delicious repast that had been set before us, the group mood had greatly softened. The town of Torquay, its history, beauty and many wonderful shops became the subjects of much of the evening’s conversation. There were happy smiles all around.

  However, the most interesting tale told that evening belonged to Mrs. Miller’s young daughter. Holmes and I were delighted with Aggie’s detailed account of her confrontation with her former school mistress, much to the delight of her proud mother. Things seemed to be progressing nicely. As our company finished dessert, Mrs. Miller looked at her young daughter, then turned her gaze at the detective and me.

  “Gentlemen, I’ve been thinking about this,” Clara Miller began. Several seconds passed with Mrs. Miller slowly shaking her head back and forth. Finally, smiling, she turned to her daughter, took her hands into hers and earnestly inquired, “Aggie, dear, what do you have to say to Mr. Holmes’s plan? Are you interested in helping these two gentlemen? Do you think you can do what is required of you, safely?”

  “Mother,” Aggie offered, “I know that I would easily be able to do what Mr. Holmes has put forth. Why it’s merely continuing to do what I do every day when visiting my friend! I see no danger in si
mply acting the way I always act on my trips to the Cary home.”

  “However,” the young girl concluded, “I want you to know, Mum, that if you think it’s too dangerous for me, I will abide by your decision.”

  Holmes and I looked at each other, wondering what Aggie’s mother would say next. Our telepathic query was answered almost immediately as Clara Miller rose from the table with her daughter.

  “Oh, dear,” Clara voiced, “why Aggie, I am completely surprised and delighted by this new-found maturity that I am seeing in you. If you think you can be helpful to Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson, and promise to follow their directives, I have no objection.”

  At that point, she warmly thanked Holmes and me for the delicious meal and fine conversation. After wishing us a very “good evening,” Clara and Aggie started walking toward the hotel foyer.

  Suddenly, Clara returned and voiced, “Mr. Holmes, my daughter and I are at your service. Please take care of her, as you stated that you would. Remember, she is not to be placed in harm’s way, but only as a fact-finder and observer. Is that clear?”

  Holmes shook his head in the affirmative.

  “Then,” she voiced, “that being the case I hope to see you tomorrow at our home, Ashfield, for 6:00 dinner. We’ll not take ‘no’ for an answer.”

  And, with that remark, our guests continued on their way.

  The Report

  Later that same evening

  After returning to our hotel room, Holmes seemed greatly amused by what had just taken place. Clearly, Clara Miller had made quite an impression on him. In fact, it would only take a few seconds before he would prove my suspicion to be spot on.

  Posing briefly by the open doorway, he raised his hand, pointing at me, and questioned, “Well, Watson, what do you make of Aggie Miller’s mother?”

  Before I could reply, he began again, “I must admit, she had me somewhat bewildered at dinner. I truly feared that she would disappoint her inquisitive daughter after our disclosure to use the child in much the same way as our Irregulars back in the day. At least we now have her approbation.”

  “Really, Holmes,” I cautioned, yet again, “do you still think it is wise to involve such a young girl in this case? I still believe that we may be ignoring the danger in which we may be placing her.”

  “Old boy,” he quickly replied, squinting those deep-set eyes at me, “surely, you are not accusing me of endangering such an innocent waif as Aggie? Really! Can you not see that she will be much safer doing the kinds of things we intend to require of her? It will be much easier protecting such a brilliant and curious young lady if we make every effort to keep her away from the truly dangerous work that you and I will soon be undertaking.”

  As he spoke those words, he briskly made his way to the writing desk, trying to change the subject, but I wouldn’t allow him to do so.

  “Holmes, I noticed that you didn’t discuss the ambush that we encountered at the Abbey,” I voiced. “Clearly, you didn’t wish Aggie’s mother to know about it. Why would you choose to hold back that account?”

  “Watson,” he responded with obvious agitation, “of course I held back. I didn’t want to tell her. Had Mrs. Miller learned of that attempt on our lives, she most certainly would have refused to allow Aggie to get involved.”

  I looked at him, rather harshly, once more whispering, “Well, wouldn’t that be best for Aggie?”

  “Watson,” he issued with much agitation, “you, above all, know my ways. Certainly, the child would be much safer if we could be sure that she would stay away. By now you must understand that her tenacious, insatiable nature would demand her involvement, one way or another. Of course, I would hate to be responsible should anything happen to her. It’s for that reason, and that reason alone, that I believe she will be much safer if we control her actions. Now will you, once and for all, move on? “

  “I sincerely hope you are correct,” I solemnly offered, for I knew I had to get the last word in this argument.

  Having put that question to rest, at least for the time being, Holmes turned to face me as I settled into a most comfortable armchair. He reached for the report Wiggins and Bobo had supplied, waving the envelope to-and-fro, as he smiled wryly.

  “Watson,” he offered, “I know that you were very much surprised to see Wiggins and his associate a little earlier. By now, I’m sure that you are most curious as to this report. Are you not?”

  My friend truly enjoyed posing such interrogatives at my expense, and I had long since tired of playing this game. Ignoring him, I picked up the local paper, feigning little interest in his question. I slowly leafed through the rotogravure section, examining seasonal photographs of downtown Torquay. Believing my apparent disinterest would annoy him, I smiled behind that section, awaiting his reaction.

  “Very well, old boy, I’ll provide you with the details anyway,” Holmes began.

  “When I first became aware that Mr. Wiggins had embarked on a career in private investigation, I contacted him, first, to congratulate, but also to remind him, that there would be many, many more disappointments than successes in his newly chosen profession. I further informed him that to perform a first-rate job would require an inordinate amount of time, patience and attention to detail. Anything less than his best efforts would invariably end in failure,” Holmes stated with some sobriety.

  I sat perfectly still, pretending not to listen, allowing my ploy to continue. Glancing over in his direction, I could see him raising one eyebrow, for he knew that I had heard every word.

  “Hmm... very well, Watson,” my friend whispered. “Two can play at this game.”

  Suddenly, he turned away and quickly opened Wiggins’s report. While he perused the information once more, I noticed some rather peculiar eye movements, a sure sign that some valuable points had been introduced into the investigation. He also mumbled a few words, his voice emoting some unusual timbres, indicating his pleasure with an occasional “a-ha” sprinkled here and there, as he continued to pore over the account.

  I tried to content myself with the knowledge that he was bursting to tell me what had been found. This time, I would force him to come round to my terms. After all, I had tired of being a mere tag-a-long on these cases. It was high time for my services to be properly respected. Eventually, he would have to understand that I, too, needed to be given my due credit.

  Several minutes had passed since Holmes had put down the report. He sat by the bay window, smoking his pipe, humming one of his favorite Wagnerian arias, his mind totally involved. This was his standard modus operandi. I had witnessed him time-after-time, day-after-day, sometimes week-after-week, employing the very same technique in formulating his plans. As was my wont, I would invariably acquiesce to my own curious nature and almost beg him to bring me in on his findings.

  Tonight it would be different. I was convinced that if the report was valuable at all, he would surely divulge the facts, without my asking to hear them. It wouldn’t be much longer. I would wait him out this time.

  Time seemed to pass very slowly that evening. Try as I might, my self-inflicted patience had me most uncomfortable as I sat there adjusting and readjusting my position in a suddenly, most uncomfortable chair. Peering over the top of the headlines, I observed him resting his eyes. He began to tap his fingers on the envelope, rhythmically performing what seemed like a military cadence.

  “Damn it, Holmes,” I charged loudly, tossing the newspaper aside, “when are you going to tell me what you’ve found in that bloody report?”

  Appearing somewhat startled by my sudden outburst, he slowly moved toward me, and wearing a devilish smile whispered, “Good fellow, why are you so vexed? I was going to tell you everything... everything, that is, when you were good and ready.”

  Placing the report on my lap, he suggested, rather nastily, “Here, old chap, perhaps you will acquire a b
etter appreciation for the work if you read it yourself.”

  My reading glasses needed to be adjusted before starting on the information, but once positioned, I anxiously began reading.

  Cary Investigation Report:

  Wiggins and Roberts Private Investigations

  At the request of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, London, our agency was hired to travel to Torquay, Devonshire, UK, to investigate the circumstances surrounding two suspicious deaths/murders that had taken place over the months of October and November. What follows is a brief summary of our findings:

  Thursday, December 14th, 1905

  8:15 AM - Mr. Roberts and I arrive. (Torquay, UK).

  9:00 AM - Register at Biddle’s Rooming House.

  10:00 AM - Mr. Roberts and I meet with Chief Inspector Davis

  In response to a request Davis had made to Mr. Sherlock Holmes for help in his investigation of two murders that had occurred in the village of Torquay, Mr. Roberts and I formally introduced ourselves. The law official was kind enough to supply us with the particulars of the crime scenes along with some cursory background information on the two unfortunate victims. After discussing his findings in great detail, we thanked the lawman for the information and set about our plans to visit the sites of the murders. As we were in the process of hiring a carriage, we were suddenly distracted by the sounds of an angry crowd which had gathered near the very police headquarters we had visited earlier that same day. There, we witnessed a near riot when it was learned that yet another council member had been murdered. When the disturbance had been quelled, we met with one of the town’s religious leaders to glean additional information about the residents of Torquay. A Vicar, one David Prentiss, new to the area, did his best to provide our team with his perspective of the local populace.

  Friday, December 15th, 1905

  Preliminary investigation of Dennison murder... details to follow.(information gleaned from local paper )