by Jack Grochot
“Quite right,” added Osgood, “where is this Sherlock Holmes of yours?”
* * * *
Just then the clown jumped up and onto his hands, where he stood momentarily. “I seem to have turned myself around. You all look so tall. But if I keep this up I’ll lose my head.” He righted himself, then placed a pipe between his teeth, from where he retrieved it I could not say, and then blew into the stem, causing a great cloud of ash to erupt into the air. “I say, would you have some tobacco that I can borrow? My pipe has gone empty.”
“Well, no actually, I do not.” I said.
“Just as well,” said the clown, “it would probably smell like an old Persian slipper, anyway.”
“As a matter of fact…wait a moment. How could you know that?”
“Elementary, my dear Watson.”
“HOLMES!?”
“Holmes? Sherlock Holmes?” the startled Countess asked.
“What’s all this then, Holmes?” Lestrade said.
“Excuse me, but I seem to be a bit confused…” Osgood said.
“All your questions will be answered. Please follow me.” Holmes started off in the direction of the dressing tent and our party obligingly followed. “Sorry to have taken you all by surprise like this, but it was necessary,” he explained. “My theatrical inclinations have been a long time without expression. It was good to utilize my talents once again.” He stopped outside the tent, and proceeded with his explanation. “While at your home, Lady Willoughby, I found several clues which led me here. The sawdust on your floor was fouled with soil and animal refuse. Had it been tracked in from a carpentry shop or similar establishment it would have been purer.” He removed his red rubber nose and yarn fringed bald pate wig. “The knife that impaled your daughter’s photograph was not thrust in, but thrown from across the room, as indicated by the angle at which it hit. Furthermore, the knife is a specially balanced one, edged for use in a knife throwing act. The shattered glass from the frame was spread in a pattern that suggested an impact of great force. Had the knife been thrust into the photograph manually, the pattern would have been less remarkable. Finally I detected a faint odor of greasepaint in the room. Someone connected with this circus, the only one within reasonable distance, seemed the only logical choice.”
“Astounding,” I said.
“Simple deductive reasoning, Watson. The culprit, obviously an amateur, overturned and disturbed both furniture and belongings in an effort to simulate a robbery, or perhaps a struggle, but the ruse was unconvincing. Had he sought to rob the house, valuables would have been missing, and furniture left undisturbed. If the purpose of the break-in was a kidnapping, belongings would not have been touched, and had there been an actual struggle, I find it unlikely that large, heavy pieces of furniture would have been overturned while trying to apprehend a small, seventeen-year-old girl. ”
“Mr Holmes,” Lady Willoughby interposed, “you said at my house that my daughter is safe. How can you be so sure? And where is she?”
“She is here, my Lady. You have seen her. You all have.”
“Here,” objected Lestrade, “What do you mean?”
“You’ll see soon enough. Please accompany me into the tent.”
Once inside, we found ourselves in the company of several performers in varying stages of undress, many in the process of removing make-up. Holmes walked to the center of the room and spoke aloud. “Pardon me, but my friends have joined me so that we may solve a crime.” He looked around the room, and his gaze fell upon the young man who had performed the knife throwing act, who suddenly appeared nervous, and began edging his way towards the exit. Holmes nodded to a burley toff, the Man of Steel, who blocked the young man’s passage and said “Aye wouldn’ go nowheres if aye was you,” and so he gave up the attempt.
* * * *
“Now, young Master Errol Smithy, or should I use your real name, Chuck Hanson? I shall make a series of statements, and you will answer yes or no depending on the accuracy. You are personally acquainted with Lady Willoughby’s daughter, Lady Alexandra, are you not?”
“Well, I…We kind of…” Hanson stammered and looked around the room for help, but none was forthcoming.
“Yes or no, Mr Hanson?”
“Yes.”
“You are in love with Lady Alexandra, and have been since you met her in America last year.”
“Hey, how could you know that?”
“That qualifies as a yes, wouldn’t you say Watson?”
“Indubitably, Holmes.”
“You have, in fact, been lovers, and plotted this kidnapping ruse so that you could be married.”
Lady Willoughby gasped. Osgood helped her to a seat.
“Look, we knew her mother would never approve of us. I’m just a circus brat from the poor side of the tracks. We planned to get hitched back home in New Jersey, but when they moved back to England, I had to find a way to be with her. I sold all of my belongings, except my knives, and used all of my savings to book cheap passage to England and then got the job with the circus here. I contacted her as soon as I could and we planned the whole thing.”
“Logically, your lack of money would present a problem, and hence the reason for the kidnapping ruse.”
“At first we were just going to run off and elope, but I thought of the kidnapping scheme to get some money to make our start in life a little easier. Don’t blame Alex. It’s all my fault. I just love her so.” He flopped down into the nearest chair and lay his head in his hands.
Holmes asked Lestrade for the ransom note. The inspector handed it to him. “This was the most incriminating piece of evidence in unravelling the puzzle. Attend. ‘If you ever want to see Alexandra alive again, deliver a sum of one thousand British pounds to the Charing Cross train station on April 29th at noon.’ The note refers to ‘Alexandra’, a familiar use of the name, indicating personal acquaintance. Secondly, the reference to ‘British pounds’ suggested to me that the “kidnapper” was someone who thinks in terms of a different monetary system. American dollars are unique and standard across that country, whereas the European designation of ‘pound notes’ as currency are issued by any of several countries. Local residents would not specify the country of origin. Only an American in a foreign country would make such a distinction. Next point,” Holmes continued. “The use of ‘train station’ rather than ‘railway station’ is American, as is the note’s poor grammatical style in general. There are numerous other clues, but they are of no great moment.” He handed the note back to Lestrade. “I left the home of Lady Willoughby and came immediately to this circus, where I was hired temporarily as a new performer. Over the past three days I have had the opportunity to discover, at leisure, all of the additional information that I required from the company of performers and from young Chuck himself. He is twenty one years old, from Hackensack, New Jersey, in America, and as you may have observed during his act, is left handed.
“When the circus arrived in Tunbridge Wells, the closest stop to London on the touring schedule, he and Lady Alexandra waited for an opportunity to carry out their plan. The only time Lady Willoughby left the house with any regularity was on Friday, but the circus had late performances those nights. When Lady Willoughby rescheduled her outing, it was exactly the turn of luck that they had hoped for. Tuesday is the only day on which the circus has no performances. It was a very fortunate happenstance indeed that the supposed abduction could be carried out without his absence from the circus being noticed.”
“All right, Holmes.” Lestrade interrupted, a little too loudly. “You’ve told us how you found him out, and that he had means and motive, but aside from what he says, what evidence do you have that the girl was involved of her own free will?”
“Inspector, your investigation of the Willoughby premises was incomplete. When I investigated Lady Alexandra’s bed ch
amber, I took particular note of the items on, or rather the items missing from, her vanity and wardrobe. Nothing was disturbed to suggest a theft, but small gaps with empty hangers in the wardrobe indicated the removal of a few select pieces of necessary apparel. And no young lady of proper breeding would feel complete without her brush and hand mirror, which were conspicuously missing from the vanity. In addition, only Lady Alexandra knew the exact time that her mother and the maid would be away from the house, and for precisely how long.”
“Mr Holmes, please. My daughter would never do such a thing!”
“I quite agree, Holmes.” Osgood added. “Your conjectures are bordering on slanderous. I suggest you prove your theory immediately, if you can, otherwise I shall be forced to advise Lady Willoughby to file suit against you on behalf of her daughter.”
“Kent, please!” The Countess chided. “I have no interest in proof or legal suits. I only want my daughter back. Mr Holmes, you have brought us all the way here to listen to your brilliant deductions, but where is my daughter?”
“Walking through that very tent flap at any moment.” Holmes stated calmly. As if on cue, the tent flap pulled back and a lone figure entered the tent.
“Ha!” Lestrade scoffed. “It’s just the boy from the knife act.” The boy had entered, seeing a crowd of curious faces intently staring at him, and stopped frozen in his tracks. His face went ashen. Tears started to well up in his eyes.
“ALEXANDRA!” Lady Willoughby was beside herself.
“Hi, mummy,” the girl said sheepishly through her tears.
“Lady Alexandra, indeed!” Holmes said triumphantly. “Hair dyed black and cut in the style of a young lad, dressed as a young lad, but Lady Alexandra, nonetheless. Her boyish figure made it a convincing disguise. I learned her habit to change costume out of sight of the others, but she always returns to the tent so as not to draw attention to her absence.”
The Countess embraced her daughter.
“But why, Alexandra? Why?”
“Because I love him, mother.”
“Well now,” Lestrade coughed, embarrassed, “seems like Mr Holmes has done a right good piece of reasoning, after all. But it’s all in the hands of the law now. I assume, my Lady, that you would like to press charges against this young scalawag?”
“No, Inspector, I would not.”
“Virginia, really! As your legal advisor I must advise you to…”
“Do be quiet, Kent.”
“Mother…?”
“I think we must all sit down and have a long chat,” said Lady Willoughby. “If you love this boy so much that you staged this elaborate deception, and if he left behind his life in America to follow you here, well…we shall all discuss it at length when we get home.”
“Oh, Mother,” said the girl as she heartily embraced her dam. They walked out of the tent, followed by Hanson and Osgood, who, still cowed, nodded to us with a shrug before departing. Lestrade looked as if about to say something, but simply turned and left.
After the others departed, Sherlock Holmes took a seat and immediately began rubbing some sort of white cream on his face to remove the remains of his clown make-up. He spoke as he cleansed.
“Mrs Watson, so good of you to come.”
“Likewise, Mr Holmes. But why did you ask me to accompany my husband?”
“Watson mentioned your desire to see the circus, which I so rudely interrupted. Besides, I wanted to see what it was that has been making my old friend appear so happy lately.”
“Why thank you, Mr Holmes.”
“Think nothing of it, Madame. Now then, you two must stay on with me for the next show.”
“What on earth for?”
“I would like to see it rather than be a part of it just once…”
“Bye the way, Holmes,” I asked, “how did you learn the juggling and stilt-walking and such?”
“Simply a matter of balance, coordination, and concentration, if one is physically fit. As a young lad I was always fascinated with clowns, so I learned the basics of the craft, thinking I might one day become a circus performer. It seems I’ve managed to do just that. I was able to learn the intricacies of the skills once I arrived. The routines themselves haven’t changed much since I saw the circus as a boy, so I was familiar with them already. So, what do you say? Will you see the next show with me?”
“Mary and I would be delighted to spend an entertaining evening with my closest friend and companion. Can you, by any chance, deduce who that might be, Mr Sherlock Holmes?”
“I haven’t a clue, Watson. I haven’t a clue.”
THE HOME TOUR, by D. Lee Lott
We had been driving all day and finally arrived at the first house on the tour. I had purchased tickets for myself and my friend, Audrey, over the internet for a Celebrity Home Tour. Since we were both in the interior decorating business and partners of our own design firm (not to mention best friends), we were more than a little excited at the opportunity to see first-hand how some of the houses had been decorated. The tour group was to meet at the first house listed on the tour agenda and then a chartered bus would pick up the group there and take them on the remainder of the tour. We arrived a little earlier than we had anticipated and no one else from the tour group had gotten there yet, so we parked in the area that was designated for us and walked towards the first house. The tall wrought-iron gate was open, so we walked through into an immaculate front yard that sloped up towards the house. The walkway that led to the front door was broken up by small sets of cobblestone steps. It was simply, but nicely landscaped with delicate bushes all along the front of the house and a few scattered large elm trees in the yard with lush, dark green grass. The front door was also open, so we cautiously peeked in and called out to see if anyone was there. There was no response or any sounds, so we walked in. The house was as beautiful as one would expect a celebrity house to be, with rich shades of deep gold and beige. This one was a huge two-story with over 10,000 square feet.
We thought since no one was here yet, that it wouldn’t be a problem if we changed our clothes and freshened up a bit after our long drive. We decided to use one of the bathrooms upstairs just to change in as long as we didn’t disturb anything. I walked back to the car to get the small travel bag which contained a change of clothes for each of us, but still didn’t see any signs of our tour group. As I walked back in the door, I saw Audrey at the top of the stairs so I started heading in her direction when I suddenly heard voices coming from the kitchen. At first I thought other people on the tour had arrived until I heard the voices become raised and angered. I suddenly felt panicky, like we shouldn’t be there. I set down the bag and quickly caught up to Audrey and told her we needed to get out of there now. My intuition was strongly pushing me to leave and I heard footsteps behind us as we neared the front door. In my hurried state, I forgot to pick up the travel bag as we all but ran down the driveway towards the gate and street. As we were rushing down the driveway, we saw three cars that weren’t there when we arrived and they were parked in such a way that they half blocked the long driveway to the house. They must have driven in right behind me as I was returning with the travel bag. We quickly walked past them, checking to see if there was anyone inside. When we got to our car, I told Audrey about leaving the bag and that we would have to come back to get it when we were comfortable that other people from the tour would be there. We decided to go ahead and check into our hotel room just to kill a little time. We planned on staying overnight, since the tour would take up the biggest part of the day and it was a three hour drive to get back home.
“Audrey, I heard footsteps behind us when we were leaving. Do you think it’s possible that we were seen?”
“I don’t really think so. The bushes at the front of the house would have blocked the view of anyone at the front door. Plus, we were moving pretty fast.”
After unpacking we decided to go back to get our bag and join the rest of the tour, but when we arrived back at the house that we had earlier escaped from, we found a crowd at the gated entrance and a security guard who wasn’t letting anyone through. We walked up to the guard and explained to him that we were with the tour, but had been there earlier and that we just wanted to get our travel bag. He said that the crowd behind us was part of our tour and asked why we had been there before the rest of the group. He hesitated for a few minutes, then said he would see if we could go up to the house, so he radioed another security guard and explained the situation and told him to watch for us. As we walked back up the driveway, we noticed that there were only two cars now and they had ‘caution’ tape all around them. I wondered why the third car wasn’t there and what the tape was all about. We got to the front door and explained to the second guard what had happened when we were there earlier and asked him what was going on. He said they were waiting for the police and that he couldn’t tell us anything right now. Then he asked if I had any proof that the bag in the house belonged to me and said that we should wait there with him until the police arrived. Fortunately, the bag did have a tag on it with my name and address, and my drivers license would verify the address to show that the bag was mine. Our tour tickets had my address on them as well to prove that there was a reason for our being here.
The guard asked, “How did you get in the first time you were here, because the guard who was scheduled to be here to unlock the house and check everyone who went in had called in sick? I was called to come in and replace him.”
“When we first arrived, the gate and the door were both unlocked and open, so we thought it might be okay to go in and wait for the rest of the tour to show up.”
“Well, the gate and the house were both supposed to have been locked and there is a security code that has to be initiated to unlock each one.”