No Place Like Holmes by Jason Lethcoe Read Free Book Online Page B

saucer of milk by the cellar door.
    He noticed all of this in the space of time it takes to draw a breath. But after that, when he did breathe, he noticed the absolutely horrible stench of rotting fish. While it was understandable that the club would be in a location near the best fishing, the smell of old haddock and rotten perch was so strong that Griffin gagged a little. He suddenly wished he hadn’t insisted that Mrs. Dent keep his only handkerchief. At that moment he would have given anything to filter out the terrible smell.
    Snodgrass, on the other hand, seemed not to notice. After unloading a couple of large, leather cases from the cab, the scruffy man took a huge breath of the outside air and claimed that it smelled delicious.
    As he followed his uncle inside the weathered-looking entrance, Griffin thought about the greasy fish he’d had for breakfast and felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably. Lord, give me strength, because I’m sure not going to get any from eating my uncle’s horrible food , he thought miserably.
    The interior of the Angler’s Club resembled something between a dilapidated fishing shack and a gentlemen’s club. Fishing buoys and nets hung from the ceiling, and gray driftwood decorated the mahogany paneled walls. A strange mix of salty old fishermen and British navy officers mingled inside. Hearing snatches of conversations going on all around him, Griffin judged that all of them shared one thing in common: the love of the sea.
    He was counting the number of feathers on an admiral’s hat and had arrived at the number three thousand two hundred and forty-six when a voice sounded next to him. “May I be of assistance?”
    The voice belonged to a man situated at a small desk. Glancing at him, Griffin noticed that the man’s hair was red, that he was wearing a particular kind of coat only issued in the navy, and that he had a tiny tattoo of a sparrow on his left wrist, which signified that he’d sailed over five thousand nautical miles. He knew this last fact because his uncle in Boston had served in the navy and had a tattoo just like it.
    But the thing that interested Griffin most was that the man’s desk was covered with several intricately designed model ships. They were some of the most detailed miniatures Griffin had ever seen.
    â€œPardon me, but did you build those ships? They’re absolutely amazing!” Griffin said, gesturing to the models.
    The man grinned and answered, “Yes, it’s a hobby of mine. Do you like them?”
    Griffin nodded. But before he could speak again, his uncle interrupted and said sharply to the young man, “We don’t have time for idle chat, my good man. We’re on important business. Does someone named James Dunn frequent this establishment?”
    The man’s smile faded and was replaced with a sneer as he turned to address Rupert. “Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t. Who’s asking?”
    â€œThat’s none of your business,” Snodgrass fired back. “Just take us to him, if you please. I haven’t got all day.”
    Seeing that his uncle’s condescending attitude wouldn’t get them very far, Griffin decided to try a different approach. “I’ll bet those ships took months to complete. Would it be okay if I took a closer look?” he asked.
    The young man’s glare softened as he turned from Snodgrass to Griffin. “Go ahead, if you’d like,” he said.
    â€œThanks.”
    Griffin took time to carefully study the different ships the man was building. Up close, he saw that they were even more wonderfully detailed than he had first thought. There was a beautifully painted tugboat with carefully constructed wooden decks, a clipper ship that had miniature figurines placed upon it, and, most wonderful of all, a magnificent ship that had been constructed inside of a glass bottle that had a lovely mermaid as a