Sherlock Holmes and The Other Woman by Geri Schear Read Free Book Online Page B

calls my bohemian lifestyle. The truth is I am worried. I cannot turn off my mind and in the middle of the night all my mistakes and failings gnaw at me. When I did at last fall asleep I was haunted by dreams of terrible things.
    This morning Watson said nothing but poured me a cup of very strong coffee. I pushed away my kippers and he pushed the plate back in front of me.
    â€œShe will be no safer for your starvation, Holmes,” he said. “Just eat one kipper and I will be satisfied.”
    I forced myself to comply. When I finished and had my second cup of coffee, I said, “It’s not Beatrice, you know. That is, it’s not only Beatrice that worries me.”
    â€œWhat then?”
    â€œAvery Rickman.”
    He took a moment to reflect on the case. “No,” he said at last. “I’m sorry, Holmes, but I’m afraid I don’t follow.”
    â€œDoes that Camden Town case not seem too easy? Too obvious?”
    Another silence as he mused. “Is it possible, my dear fellow, you are merely repulsed by the sordidness of the solution? After all, housemaids do have illicit love affairs, and often with contemptible cads.”
    â€œI know,” I said. “I know. But something gnaws at me, Watson.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI do not know. Something does not sit right.”
    â€œThen we missed something.”
    I chuckled. “My dear fellow, how can you have such faith in me?”
    â€œBecause I know you,” he said. He buttered a slice of toast and put it on my plate. To humour him, I ate it.
    â€œIf something is nagging at you, then there probably is something we’ve overlooked. You will not be satisfied until we’ve met this Rickman fellow and questioned him.”
    It sounded absurdly easy once he said it.
    â€œWhat a fool I am that I did not question Connie about the fellow when I had the opportunity,” I said. “If only I had not let the matter drop so easily.”
    â€œShe would have dissembled in any case, Holmes,” he said. “And that’s assuming she knew anything to begin with. If this Rickman fellow is like other cads, he probably lied about everything, including his name. He’s probably really Charlie Snout, a pig-farmer from Somerset who already has two wives.”
    We laughed heartily at the idea. I think the laugh benefited me at least as much as the kippers.
    Watson and I took a cab to Scotland Yard. I spoke with Lestrade and Tavistock Hill. They will keep close watch for Rickman. Even in a city the size of London there cannot be many very tall men with fair hair. A shame, they pointed out, that I have nothing more to tell them about the fellow. I cannot imagine they will devote much time and attention to the search in any case. It is not as if Rickman can be arrested or charged with anything. His crime is against decency. Well, as far as we know.
    We returned to Baker Street around three o’clock. I have instructed the Irregulars to keep watch for Rickman, too. Billy and Tommy have sent word to their eyes all over the city. I have more faith in these boys than I do in all of London’s official force combined.
    Watson and I went to the Savoy to attend the revival of Gilbert and Sullivan’s Gondoliers . It’s not exactly Mozart but pleasant enough and a welcome distraction from irksome maidservants and Paris.
    Dinner at Simpson’s.
    Tuesday 29 March 1898
    Around four o’clock I was lying upon the sofa reading the newspapers when I was interrupted by a knock at the door. After a moment, Mrs Hudson came in and said there was a young woman who wished to consult with me. It was apparent from her air of distaste that the client did not meet my housekeeper’s minimum standard of ladylike behaviour.
    A moment later, I discovered why. Connie Kidwell came sailing into the room in a state of high dudgeon.
    â€œHere,” she said. “What you done with my Avery?”
    I stared at her for