Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazine #8

by Marvin Kaye

  “Denis Farrington?” Harry straightened in his chair.

  “Yes, he’s the editor and chief reporter of the Dimchester Weekly Observer. Is that a clue?”

  Farrington, Harry was fairly certain, was a friend of the missing reporter. “Nope, I just had the notion I’d heard the name before.”

  “Farrington’s quite well-known throughout Somerset.” Leaving the area of the fireplace, Constable Mulliner settled into a bentwood rocker facing the detective. “These fellows who tried to do you in earlier today—and I believe we’re safe in saying that they stole the elephant from the circus that’s appearing in town in order to use it to halt the train and afford them an opportunity to assault you. Would it be safe to conclude, Mr. Challenge, that these fellows wanted to prevent you from finding Jennie Barr?”

  “It would, yes.”

  “Do you think your traveling companion, Mr. Lorenzo, will be able to find out—”

  “He prefers to be called the Great Lorenzo.” Harry lit a new thin black cheroot. “He’s very good at finding out things, which is why I sent him over to talk to the two clown impersonators.”

  “He won’t use American means of inquiry on them, I trust. The third degree I believe you call it over there,” said the constable. “We have a very conservative town council and, while I wish to be helpful to you, I wouldn’t—”

  “He won’t lay a hand on them,” promised Harry, exhaling smoke. “He may also want to drop in at the infirmary to talk with the clown with the broken leg.”

  Mulliner said, “As soon as Dr. Needham gives his permission.”

  Harry took a slow drag on his cigar. “Now tell me about the Wonder.”

  The constable gave a negative shake of his hand. “Merely an old wives’ tale,” he assured Harry. “A bit of latter day folklore that—”

  “I saw him,” reminded Harry. “He flew by, scooped up the clown and rose into the air with him. Then he dropped him. The Wonder is a very palpable piece of folklore.”

  “I’ve never seen this wonderful chap myself,” said the constable, whose pipe yet again ceased function. “I venture to say, however, that his alleged exploits—carrying residents out of a burning building, lifting carts out of the mud, thrashing bullies and all the rest—have been greatly exaggerated.”

  “How long has he been operating, greatly exaggerated or not, in the vicinity of Dimchester?”

  Constable Mulliner considered. “Nearly two months, I calculate,” he answered. “At least that’s about when I started hearing tales about him.”

  “You have any idea as to who he is?”

  “Never having seen the Wonder, I am unable to form any opinions as to his identity,” the local lawman said. “In my opinion he’s nothing more than a prankster bent on gulling the simpler denizens of the area.”

  “I understand he helped get the elephant clear of the train tracks.”

  “Another embroidery of the truth.”

  Harry leaned back in his chair. “If Jennie got wind of the Somerset Wonder, she’d come here to find out about him. It’s her sort of yarn and something she specializes in writing about for the New York Enquirer.”

  “Can her attempting to learn something about the Wonder have anything to do with her being kidnapped?”

  “We don’t know she’s been kidnapped or what she was digging into.” Harry stood. “Think I’ll get over to the jail to find out what, if anything, the Great Lorenzo has—”

  The brass knocker on the constable’s front door was vigorously activated.

  A moment later the magician came hurrying into the parlor. He looked a shade winded. “Take a gander, my boy, at this poster,” he said. “I noticed it on a siding whilst I was trudging back from the local hoosegow.” He unfurled the large bright poster.

  Sensational Appearance of

  World Famed Soprano

  in an

  EXCITING RECITAL

  of Opera Favorites!

  **LILY HOPE in Person!**

  3 Days Only at the Town Hall.

  May 1 to May 3.

  Do Not Miss This Tremendous Event!!

  “Would this be a clue?” inquired Mulliner.

  In addition to being a passable singer, Lily Hope was also a very successful international spy. Harry wondered what in the devil she was doing in Dimchester. “Actually no. It’s only that both Lorenzo and I are devoted admirers of the lady’s golden voice.”

  “Indeed, yes,” seconded the plump magician. “She puts the nightingale to shame.”

  The constable asked Lorenzo, “Did you find out anything from the prisoners?”

  “Not much I fear,” he lied. “I concluded that these fellows are merely thugs for hire, imported from London to lie in wait for my dear friend, Harry Challenge, and incapacitate him.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “Their anonymous employer didn’t see fit, it seems, to share his motives with them,” answered the magician. “All they know is that they were hired to prevent him from reaching town.”

  “Wonder why people want to keep me away from here,” said Harry.

  Lorenzo faced Harry, his back to the constable. “We shall have to find out, my boy.” He winked and mouthed the words, “We’ll talk later.”

  * * * *

  Rewinding his scarf around his neck, the Great Lorenzo said, “I appreciate your accompanying me to the Barksdale Mansion, Harry. A walking companion on a dismal foggy night such as—”

  “I’m not interested all that much in tagging along while you take a look at where you’ll be putting on your magic show come Tuesday,” he told his friend. “What I want to know is what, if anything, you learned from those two louts who attempted to knock me off.”

  “That is exactly what I intend to tell you, my boy,” said the magician. “I didn’t think it prudent to discuss the matter while under the eye of the constable.”

  Impatiently, Harry requested, “So tell me now. Did either of them know where Jennie—”

  “Afraid not,” answered Lorenzo. “The method of interviewing I utilized when I was alone with each of these miscreants was tried and true as well as reliable.” Extracting his gold watch from the pocket of his vest, he swung it from side to side a few times.

  “I know you’re a pretty fair hypnotist. That’s why I suggested that you—”

  “Pretty fair? I happen to be, and this was confirmed at the most recent meeting of the International Hypnotists Guild, I happen to be one of the most gifted hypnotists on the face of the Earth.”

  “When you hypnotized these guys, you got nothing about Jennie’s whereabouts?”

  The two of them reached the northern end of town and started along the foggy forest trail that led to the mansion of Sir Danvers Barksdale, the millionaire who’d hired the Great Lorenzo to stage his magic show at his mansion as part of the upcoming town-wide May Day festivities.

  “They could not provide any information about your feisty sweetheart’s current location, Harry,” said the magician. “They were, however, able to tell me who hired them to assist you in shuffling off to oblivion and why.”

  “You showed me the poster announcing Lily Hope’s presence in Dimchester,” said Harry as the night woods closed in around them. “So I assume she’s involved.”

  “Undoubtedly, although neither of them had any contact with the lady spy,” explained the portly magician. “What they both confessed, when under my expertly applied hypnotic spell, was that an extremely tall man hired them to make certain you’d never arrive here. An extremely tall man, excessively bald and sporting an obvious glass eye.”

  “Oskar Tortuga,” said Harry. “Lily’s bodyguard and go-between.”

  “That was my conclusion, yes.”

  Off in the misty dark an owl hooted.

  “Okay, so Lily doesn’t want me in the vicinity,” Harry said slowly. “That means she’s here for something besides singing off key at the town hall. What did your informants say?”

  “Only that Tortuga hinted you
represented competition.”

  “And do Lily and her toady consider Jennie competition, too?”

  “Very likely, Harry, but our erstwhile clowns had nothing to do with the lass’s vanishing.”

  “I’ll add Lily to my list of folks to call on tomorrow.”

  “This flying man you claim to have encountered,” said the magician. “What do you think is the cause of him?”

  “Well, Lorenzo, he could be a uniquely gifted rustic who’s succeeded in teaching himself to fly, lift elephants and perform other impressive chores,” replied Harry. “Or he might be the result of some pioneering scientific experiment.”

  The Great Lorenzo nodded. “Our dear Lily is well-known for supplying pilfered plans and formulas pertaining to assorted engines of war to sundry foreign powers,” he said. “A process, if such there is, for turning everyday lads into flying strongmen would be extremely interesting to many a belligerent nation.”

  “Yep, and Lily has worked for quite a few war-minded countries,” he said. “It’s also possible, Lorenzo, that Jennie got wind of this Somerset Wonder, came here to look into the story and—”

  Chesty barking had started up ahead, along with the sound of more than one running dog.

  “We must be near the mansion,” suggested Lorenzo, “and Sir Danvers has let loose the hounds.”

  There were three substantial dogs, two mastiffs and a German shepherd. They came galloping out of the night mist. Halting a few yards from Harry and the magician, they stood, wide-legged, and snarled.

  “I’ve had notable luck hypnotizing cows and horses,” said the Great Lorenzo as he extracted his gold watch from its pocket. “Not much with hounds, particularly with those intent on sinking their teeth into me.”

  Harry drew his .38 revolver out of his shoulder holster. “We’ll have more luck trying to dissuade them with this.”

  “As an animal lover, Harry, I’d hate to be a party to slaughtering these potentially noble creatures.”

  The dogs, back hair bristling, were inching closer, growling deep inside.

  “I’m, basically, fond of animals, too,” Harry assured him. “Less fond of being gobbled up by three ferocious hounds. Initially, I’ll just fire over their heads to scare them off.”

  “It occurs to me that green smoke might be equally efficacious in frightening them away,” said the magician as he reached into his coat pocket. “Fortunately, I usually carry a supply of—”

  “No need for violence, gentlemen.” The leafy branches of the trees on their right rustled. The Wonder dropped to the ground a few feet behind the angry snarling dogs. “I’ll handle these fellows.”

  “This, I take it,” said Lorenzo, “is the Wonder that you alluded to earlier.”

  “The same, yeah.”

  The trio of hounds turned to bark at the blond man who’d dropped from above.

  “Sit,” he ordered.

  Making a whimpering noise, one of the mastiffs obliged immediately. The other mastiff, after wagging his tail to and fro twice, also sat. The German shepherd, however, leaped at the Wonder.

  While the growling animal was still in midair, the Wonder took two swift steps forward to deliver a single blow to its forehead.

  Yelping once, the dog fell to the ground unconscious.

  “Go back to your kennel,” suggested the Wonder in a deep, persuasive voice.

  The two mastiffs, deciding that this was sound advice, went padding away and were soon swallowed by the mist.

  “You chaps can continue on in safety.”

  Putting his gun away, Harry asked, “What do you know about Jennie Barr?”

  The Wonder hesitated for a few seconds before shaking his head. Crouching, he then leaped upward. He continued to ascend, rose up above the trees and then went flying away.

  “Very impressive,” observed Lorenzo.

  “Apparently the dogs share your view.”

  “I am wondering, though, why he was wearing a wig.”

  “What in the bloody hell have you fools done to Satan?” A fat, red-faced man in a Norfolk jacket and plus fours was stomping toward them along the woodland trail. Cradled in his arms was a bright new shotgun.

  “A more applicable question,” suggested the magician, “is what was your dog planning to do to us.”

  “Stuff and nonsense. Satan happens to be a very valuable dog, sir, and we’ll just see what good your pathetic sophistry does you at the next assizes. I am noted hereabouts for prosecuting poachers to the full—”

  “This is the Great Lorenzo,” cut in Harry. “If under all that bluster you happen to be Sir Danvers Barksdale, you should have been expecting him and not sending a batch of mean-minded hounds to—”

  “I can assure you, young man, that this dog is far more important to me than a carnival trickster that my giddy wife browbeat me into hiring for the sole purpose of mystifying the hordes of halfwits and yahoos who constitute our neighbors.”

  “In that case, Sir Danvers,” said the angry Lorenzo, “we can mutually cancel Tuesday’s scheduled performance of my justly world-famed magic extravaganza. And you have my permission to take a—”

  “Pay no attention to Danvers.” A slim blonde woman of about thirty-five, wearing a dark velvet cloak, had appeared out of the mist. “You’re more than welcome and we feel honored to have a magician of the caliber of the Great Lorenzo entertain at Barksdale Mansion.”

  “A magician of his caliber,” said Sir Danvers loudly, “has nearly murdered poor Satan, Florence.”

  Lady Barksdale said, “The pup’s only dazed and, look, he’s already getting to his feet. I don’t blame the Great Lorenzo for administering a much needed clout to him.”

  “It was not I, dear lady, who felled the beast,” the magician informed Barksdale’s much younger wife. “No, a local fellow who is known, I believe, as the Somerset Wonder, dispatched Satan before he had a chance to gnaw on us.”

  Sir Danvers lowered his shotgun. “The Wonder was here? You actually saw the bloke?”

  “We most certainly did,” answered Lorenzo. “Now then, what is to be the upshot of this unpleasant encounter? Am I to assume that the multitudes of Dimchester citizens who’ve been eagerly anticipating the advent of what many astute observers truly believe to be the greatest magic show in the world are to be disappointed? Disappointed to the extent of turning against the entire Barksdale clan and possibly marching through the quaint streets of the town brandishing blazing torches and—”

  “Don’t be silly,” cut in Lady Barksdale. “You most certainly shall appear as scheduled, sir. Come up to the house.” She made a come-with-me gesture with her right hand. “And bring your friend.”

  “This is Harry Challenge.” Lorenzo gestured in the detective’s direction.

  Sir Danvers took a sudden step backwards, nearly stumbling over his still somewhat dazed dog. “Harry Challenge of the Challenge International Detective Agency?”

  “Yes, I happen to be that Harry Challenge,” confirmed Harry.

  “What a shame our son is away for the day,” said the blonde women. “Roger is very interested in detective work and he’s followed your career with keen interest, Mr. Challenge.”

  “Allow me to apologize for this unfortunate little misunderstanding,” said Sir Danvers, failing to sound completely convincing. “Do come up to the house.”

  “Such has been my intention all along,” Lorenzo told him.

  * * * *

  Monday morning was blustery and the hanging sign over the entrance of the Cheshire Cat was creaking enthusiastically as Harry, alone, emerged from the inn.

  His initial destination was the office of the Dimchester Weekly Observer some six blocks away. The newspaper was housed in a small Tudor-style building halfway down a quirky cobblestone lane.

  Displayed in the wide front window was the front page of the latest edition. There were three 16-point headlines that caught Harry’s attention. Famed American Reporter Disappears, Mystery Man Rescues Noted American Detective, and Lo
cal Eccentric Scientist Still Missing. The stories about Jennie, himself, and the Somerset Wonder told Harry nothing new. The piece dealing with the missing scientist he found more informative. A Dr. Spartacus Donne, noted for his unorthodox researches in the fields of nutrition and physical fitness, had vanished from his woodland cottage, which also served as a laboratory, the day after Jennie had gone missing.

  “Maybe there’s a link,” Harry said to himself and entered the newspaper office.

  The place smelled strongly of newsprint and black ink and from the small workroom beyond the office came the sound of a press at work.

  Seated at the oak desk at the left of the office was a tall, handsome, dark-haired man of about forty. “I say,” he said, half rising from his chair, “you’re Harry Challenge, aren’t you? What a coincidence, since there’s a story pertaining to you in this week’s—”

  “Not much of a coincidence. I came to see you because I’m looking for Jennie Barr,” he told the editor. “As I recall you’re a friend of hers who met her while you were working on a London daily about three years ago.”

  “Two and a half years ago, old boy,” corrected Denis Farrington. “I was, as you may know, a brief and unsuccessful suitor of that brilliant young lady. It’s always been my suspicion that her fondness for you was the chief reason I never—”

  “You’ve kept in touch with Jennie.”

  “I have. Our friendship continues.”

  Harry straddled a straight-back chair and faced the editor. “Are you the one who suggested she come to Dimchester?”

  “Afraid I am, Challenge,” he admitted. “My motives were fairly honest and I didn’t invite Jennie simply because I wanted to see her again.”

  “No, I imagine you told her all about the Somerset Wonder.”

  “Yes, because it struck me as something ideally suited to her, the very sort of unusual, possibly supernatural, phenomenon that she writes about so well in the pages of the New York Inquirer.”

  “And she was investigating the Wonder when she disappeared?”

  “She was, Challenge. We had dinner the night before and Jennie implied she had unearthed a very promising lead.”