by David Marcum
I shook my head, and we both took a moment to curse the incompetence of the force at the time.
“So there was Lestrade, in my room in Montague Street, sitting upon a cushioned parlor chair, enjoying a smoke, and telling me this horrific story as if he and the Yard had acted responsibly. After Lestrade concluded his summary of events, he handed me the envelope containing the ransom note.
“‘We believe, Mr. Holmes,’ he started, ‘that Mr. Able, the coachman, put the note in the entryway before he left. He knew, based on the schedule of the servants, that no one would find the note til he had absconded with the heiress.’
“I took the envelope, sniffed it over, then carefully removed the letter from inside. It read that the heiress had been taken and the cost to have her returned was £100,000. They were to tell no one or the lady would be killed in some gruesome fashion. Further instructions would be forthcoming.
“‘Who contacted you?’ I asked after finishing the letter.
“‘The Lord himself, Mr. Holmes. Clever man saw that the best way to have his daughter returned was to disobey the order and contact the police.’
“‘And did you get a handwriting sample from the coachman and the apothecary?’ I asked.
“The ferret-faced inspector grinned with pride. ‘That we did, Mr. Holmes, that we did. Neither was a perfect match, though Mr. Able’s was close. I think he was trying to disguise his handwriting.’
“‘Do you have the note and the sample of Able’s penmanship with you?’
“‘I do.’ He handed them to me, and what I saw was quite indicative.
“‘Also,’ Lestrade added, ‘since the arrest of the two men, there has been no follow-up note with further instructions.’
“I must have sneered at the inspector or made an unpleasant face, for he stammered after, ‘Th-that’s why I contacted you, Mr. Holmes. Both the coachman and the apothecary cling to their stories of innocence, and we have no knowledge thus far of the whereabouts of the Lady Marianne. I felt you might be able to assist us in this matter.’
“‘Were any other members of the house away when the Lady Marianne was abducted?’
“‘Why, yes,’ Lestrade continued. He was almost jolly in his response, seeing that I was now following what he perceived was his own line of reasoning. ‘Three other members of the house were absent. We gave them a thorough interview, but all had alibis and witnesses to corroborate their whereabouts during the time the crime must have taken place.’
“I nodded but asked to know their identities.
“‘There was Mrs. Hodges, the cook, who was visiting the baker, getting some rolls for the evening meal. Then there was Mr. Smythe, the footman, and Mr. Bartlett, the valet, who were enjoying some leisure time. They like to take afternoon walks together when they can and were spotted by many witnesses throughout the town.’
“‘Who is the current coachman?’ I inquired.
“‘Mr. Smythe is filling the role until a more suitable candidate is hired.’
“‘And,’ I pressed. ‘Has anyone recently been dismissed from staff or denied employment?’
“‘Ho ho,’ Lestrade tittered jovially. ‘I see where you are going with this, Mr. Holmes. There was one, a Mr. Thorpe, a butler who was dismissed after being drunk and making a scene at a dinner party.’
“‘Ah, I see,’ I told Lestrade. ‘And you know his whereabouts during the time of the Lady’s disappearance?’
“‘Yes,’ the inspector beamed. ‘He was at his new place of employment.’
“‘Which is?’ I asked.
“‘He is now a baker.’
“‘A baker!’ I snapped.
“‘Yes,’ Lestrade explained. ‘His uncle hired the man after he was released from the employment of Lord Mapleton. Good man, that uncle. He didn’t want to see his nephew suffer, and offered him a second chance, a way to find a new profession.’
“‘And this bakery,’ I growled. ‘Was the same bakery visited by Mrs. Hodges at the time of the Lady’s disappearance.’
“‘Why, um, yes,’ Lestrade responded with a tremor in his voice. He could see the rage in my face, a rage I could no longer contain.
“‘Ridiculous!’ I exploded. ‘Are you a complete fool? Is the Yard nothing more than a force of dunces?’
“‘Now really, Mr. Holmes, there is no need to lash out,’ Lestrade started, his face reddening as my insults continued.
“‘No reason! You are an idiot! Two innocent men have been held while the real criminals walk freely. You’ve sullied both men’s reputations. No doubt that the apothecary’s business has suffered with the proprietor away! And the Lady is in incredible danger!
“‘See here, Mr. Holmes, you attack the force, but have given no reason why we should have acted differently. Of course the Lady is in danger. That is why I came to you, to see if you can help us find her. If you are so certain of your superior skills to that of all of Scotland Yard then tell me, oh wise one, where is the Lady Marianne?’ Lestrade lifted his nose in disgust at me, and his snootiness was more than I could bare.
“‘Fine,’ I’ll do your work for you, yet again, though I believe any child could solve this dilemma for you.’ I threw my hands in the air out of frustration, for I could see the baffled expression on Lestrade’s face meant he did not deduce what was screaming at him from the facts of the case.
“‘Inspector, the letter was clearly written by a person trying to copy the handwriting of Mr. Able, the driver. Some of the handwriting differs from other parts of the letter. The very slight distortions in the lettering seems to indicate that some words have been traced. Others, which are more free flowing but not quite right, were done by someone attempting to mimic Mr. Able’s writing.
“‘That, my dear Inspector, is how I know that Mr. Able is innocent. Any man who is trying to disguise his writing would not make some of the words clear while others disguised. He would disguise them all!’
“All right, Mr. Holmes,’ Lestrade huffed. His temper was raised and his upper lip quivered at the indignity he had suffered from my verbal abuse. ‘Who wrote the letter, and where, pray tell, is the Lady Marianne?’
“‘My God, man,’ I said truly in shock, ‘you still don’t see it?’ I let out a long sigh and, with a shake of my head, I told the inspector all. ‘The letter was written either by Mr. Thorpe or his uncle. I admit to not having enough data to say with certainty which man wrote the letter, but I can tell you that they both were involved in the abduction of Lady Marianne.’
“‘If this is the case, then how did the letter get into the entryway, with all of the witnesses stating with certainty that the men were at the bakery during the kidnapping? Your facts do not appear to pan out.’
“‘Because, Lestrade,’ I explained slowly so that even his stupidity could comprehend my words, ‘Mr. Thorpe and his uncle were at the bakery.’
“‘Mr. Holmes, are you making fun of me?’ Lestrade sneered.
“‘Not at all, Inspector though I admit your lack of detective skills is truly disturbing. Clearly, Mrs. Hodges, the cook, is an accomplice. The letter has a slight bit of residue from nail lacquer, the aroma of which still graces the exterior of the envelope. Mrs. Hodges could easily discern the whereabouts of her ladyship simply by making conversation with members of the staff. She also knows the patterns of travel within the house throughout the day. I am certain that soon after Lady Marianne left for her shopping excursion, Mrs. Hodges placed the ransom note in the entryway, then left for her trip to the bakery. Most likely she told Mr. Thorne of the Lady’s destination, and then he went to the apothecary in the baker’s carriage. Tell me, does Thorne’s uncle have a wife?’
“Lestrade nodded his assent, though he did not say anything. He was using his full faculties to follow my explanation.
“‘I thought as much,’ I told Lestrade. ‘It explains how they were able to capture her ladyship. I am certain the two went to the apothecary and parked the carriage in the back alley. The uncle’s wife found some
way to signal to Lady Marianne to leave the store through the rear exit. Perhaps she claimed there was an emergency back at the household. Perhaps she just struck up conversation and led the woman out the back door. That I do not know. I am certain that once the Lady Marianne exited the apothecary, a sack was thrown over her head and she was tossed into the awaiting carriage. The villains next shuffled the lady off to the bakery where they, again, used a rear entrance to get the woman inside, hiding her in some closet or in the basement.’
“‘A lively theory Mr. Holmes,’ Lestrade interrupted, sounding smug. ‘But you are ignoring vital evidence. We have multiple witnesses who claim they saw Mrs. Hodges, Thorn, his uncle, and the uncle’s wife at the bakery during the time of the kidnapping.’
“‘Of course you do. That was part of the plan all along. You have witnesses who claim they were at the bakery, but not at the same time! The three were careful to show their faces throughout the afternoon. I’m sure the uncle even called down to his nephew a few times, maybe mentioned to some customers something about Mrs. Hodges. They did enough to plant seeds in the minds of the customers which would sprout, after the tragedy, and allow them to claim they had seen all of the witnesses, even if not all of them were present at the time. I assure you, Inspector, that if you search the bakery, you will find Lady Marianne hidden in a closet or locked in the basement!’
“Lestrade’s face had become white at the realization that what I had explained made perfect sense. In almost a whisper, he asked, ‘But why? Why would Mrs. Hodges commit such a crime? Why would she do such a thing to her Lady? The staff is well paid by the Lord, better than most.’
“I spoke harshly to him. ‘For revenge, Inspector, revenge. Mr. Thorne clearly feels slighted at his dismissal. I would assume that he was somehow involved with the cook, who also felt that he had been wronged. I’m certain that the original plan was to collect the ransom money, release Lady Marianne – who would have remained blindfolded and never have known her true whereabouts. After she was released, then the police would become involved, and they would conclude that Mr. Able was the guilty party. From your actions, you can see that you, yourself, would have fallen into their trap. Indeed, you already have.’
“Lestrade scowled and moved his lips around, as if the story I told was in his mouth, and he had to take little bites of it so that he was able to digest it.
“‘I admit that there is the chance possibility that what you speak is the truth.’
“Watson, I stood from my seat at this most pompous of statements, and I believe my patience was at such an end that my hands were balled into fists. I spoke harshly through clenched teeth.
“‘You are a complete and utter buffoon, Lestrade. Don’t you see that you must act swiftly? The original kidnapping plan has become ensnarled since the police became involved. The criminals are now scared. They have the Lady, but they have not sent a follow-up note with directions on collecting the ransom money. They know Mr. Able has been arrested. They are currently above suspicion. However, if they return the Lady Marianne, it will be clear that Mr. Able is innocent and the police will widen their search.
“‘Most likely, someone in London will remember seeing the baker’s carriage outside the apothecary, and the force will turn their attention to the real culprits. They have probably already concluded this and have realized that the only way to save themselves is to kill the Lady and dispose of the body. No one would ever know what had occurred, and either Mr. Able or the apothecary would hang for the crime, or they would be released and the vanishing of Lady Marianne would always remain a dark mystery. Fortunately, there is time to save her!’
“‘You – you mean they will . . . are you sure . . . and the driver . . . ?’ Lestrade asked in a whimper.
“‘Stop blithering and get down to that bakery!’ I stormed. ‘Thankfully, the abductors are not cold blooded criminals. This has taken a dark turn, and most likely none of them has had the stomach to kill the lady. But eventually, one of them will carry through. As idiotic as your force has been, they can redeem themselves. Go, Lestrade! Go now! Find the Lady Marianne and you shall see that the lady was saved through the grace of your involvement.’
“‘I still don’t see . . . and why the cook . . . .’ the inspector puzzled.
“‘There’s no time for this!’ I raged. ‘As I said, Lestrade, all shall be revealed when you rescue the lady and arrest the real criminals. Now go!’ I held my fist aloft, ready to strike, and it was enough to snap the inspector to attention. He pulled himself out of his seat, told me he would be in touch the next morning, and then darted out of my room and into the streets of London.”
“And did they rescue the Lady?” I asked. I had become so fascinated with Holmes’s story that I found my pulse raised in fear that the Yarders would be too late.
“Yes, as fortune would have it,” Holmes explained. “The next morning, I read in The Times that the Lady Marianne had been saved, the driver and the apothecary had been released, and that Mr. Thorne and his accomplices had been arrested. The Times made it a point to thank the wonderful work of the Yard, and boldly claimed that all of London could rest easy knowing that men such as Inspector Lestrade were tirelessly fighting crime on the city streets.”
I burst out laughing at such a statement. “So,” I asked, while wiping my eyes from guffawing so loudly, “did the inspector come and apologize the next day?”
“No, my dear Watson, I had a most unexpected visitor in his stead.”
Holmes had paused in the telling of his story to start a small fire in the fireplace. As the evening wore on, the temperature had dropped, and even the warmth of our pipe smoke was not enough to stave off the cool humid air. We had another glass of brandy, and Mrs. Hudson surprised us with a dessert of fig pudding. After our bodies were warmer and bellies fuller, and we concluded a discussion about upcoming operas we should attend, we returned to Holmes’s tale from his time in Montague Street.
“‘The next day, after reading The Times, I started my daily exercise regimen. I completed my bodily training in the confines of my room, for though I was in peak physical form, I was becoming more and more like my brother Mycroft, only leaving my flat when I needed bodily nourishment.
“About three-quarters-of-an-hour into my muscular training, there was a rapping on my door. I thought it would be Lestrade bringing word of the success of the case and thanking me for solving it. When I opened the door, I was surprised to discover – not Lestrade – but a small Oriental man cloaked in a dark grey inverness cape and deerstalker. The man, though short in stature, stood with his hands at his hips and stared up at me with the deepest expressive jade eyes I had ever seen. He had a most commanding presence. His features were chiseled with long lines of age, and the curls of white hair which flowed from under his hat were puffy, as if he wore a cumulus cloud upon his head. The right half of his face was normal, while the left half slumped down slightly, clearly the victim of a stroke of God’s hand 1. The man must have been over sixty years of age, yet there was a youthfulness in his manner as he pushed past me and confidently strode into my room.
“I confess, Watson, that there was not much I could read from the man, beyond what I have told you. He kept himself covered by his inverness and wore his collar up to conceal even more of his identity. I could see that he was financially sound, his clothing being of the latest style, yet there was no mud on his shoes, and no stains about his collar to help me identify more about this Oriental character.
“‘Good day, sir,’ I began. ‘My name is Sherlock Holmes, and I believe you have come to see me about a problem.’
“The elderly man turned to me swiftly in one quick motion and was again standing directly before me, looking up at me squarely in the eyes. He then removed his hands from beneath his cape, and I saw that he was holding a bound pad of paper and a sharpened wooden pencil. He flipped the pad open, scrawled a note, and handed it to me.
“‘It is an honor to meet you, Mr. Holmes,’ I read. ‘I
am Mr. Chen. Like you, I am a consultant for Scotland Yard. I come to you on behalf of Inspector Lestrade. As I am sure you already know, you were correct about the Lady Marianne’s whereabouts. What you do not know is that you have grievously offended the Yard, so much so that I fear they will no longer require your services.’
“After reading Mr. Chen’s note, Watson, I let out a long yawn to show my lack of interest in Mr. Chen’s concern. ‘My dear, sir,’ I explained to the man. ‘I did nothing but speak the truth to Inspector Lestrade. If the man’s pride is hurt, perhaps that is for the better. His investigative skills, like that of most of the Yard, are tolerable at best. I can assure you that someone from the Yard will come see me soon enough. I shall assist them, pocket my fee, and we shall continue on in this fashion until I so choose to end our professional relationship.’
“‘I am disappointed that one so all-knowing as yourself lacks the basic understanding of human nature,’ Chen wrote.
“‘Whatever do you mean?’ I chuckled. ‘I can assure you that Inspector Lestrade may be claiming sore feelings now, but just wait until some little girl loses her dolly, and then he’ll be at my doorstep needing my advice.’
“Chen wrote on his pad, shaking his head. He then handed me a most unexpected message. ‘Holmes needs the Yard as much as the Yard needs Holmes.’
“I confess that I burst out laughing at such a ridiculous remark. Chen took his pad back from me and wrote a further explanation.
“‘Your insults have gone beyond the knowledge of the inspector,’ wrote Chen. ‘All of the Yard wants nothing to do with you. Even if they do come back to you, they will do so unwillingly. They will always doubt you, not wanting to take their largest critic seriously. You will lose income from the force. You will lose access to the force. Even if you were able to make a respectable income without them, having no friends in the Yard will greatly hinder many of your investigations.’