Sherlock Holmes and The Scarlet Thread of Murder by Luke Benjamen Kuhns Read Free Book Online

Phil Jacks looks like.”
    â€œI can do better than that,” said he. “Mr. Jacks is in the hotel this very night. If he is a villain in some crime, I should like him to be caught sooner rather than later!”
    We followed the man to the desk, where he picked up a key and then darted up a flight of stairs. We came to the room of Phil Jacks, and the manager pounded upon it heavily, calling out the man’s name. We then heard the sound of a woman squeal. Terror pulsed through me.
    â€œMy God,” the manager whispered and rapped on the door.
    â€œWhere is key, man?” Hewitt demanded. We heard a crashing sound. “There is no time!”
    The manager looked at us in fright. He forced the key into the slot and swung the door open. He dashed inside, with Hewitt and I following behind, only to find Phil Jacks and a maid in the act of coitus. There was a moment of severe embarrassment for all of us.
    Mr. Jacks shouted obscenities as he and the maid covered themselves up with blankets. Turning away we quickly left the room. After a ruckus and further abuse being said, Mr. Jacks opened the door. His face was red with anger and the woman was nowhere to be seen.
    â€œWhat in the hell is going on here?” Mr. Jacks roared.
    â€œI do apologise, Mr. Jacks. This is Mr. Hewitt, a private detective...” the manager began in a panicked tone.
    â€œI don’t care who this man is! Tell me why you barged into my rooms?” He looked angrily between the three of us. Then I realised something unique. The man was clean-shaven, had no scar upon his index finger, nor a mole on the left side of his face. Phil Jacks this man might be, but Phillias Jackson he was not.
    â€œIt is our mistake. We took you for a criminal,” admitted Hewitt. “We were being shown to your rooms in order to apprehend you, but unfortunately you are not the man we seek.”
    â€œForgive the mistake, Mr. Jacks. I shall make it up to you,” said the manager nervously.
    â€œIndeed you shall! The rest of my stay will be on your tab!” Jacks turned and slammed the door shut, the force of which rustled our hair.
    â€œLet’s discuss this downstairs,” Hewitt whispered. We were taken into a small office where the three of us sat down.
    â€œThis is not good. No, not good at all,” murmured the manager.
    â€œWhat can you tell me of Bryan Potts?” Hewitt asked.
    â€œPotts?” Mr Hodder said, “My mind is too caught up in what just happened. I could very well lose my position here!”
    â€œYou will be fine, Mr Hodder. Now, I need you to tell me what you know about Bryan Potts!” Hewitt spoke sternly.
    The manager pulled his nerves together at Hewitt’s request: “He is an odd fellow, very loud and presumptuous. He’s stayed here a few times...”
    â€œFour times between March and September, going by your books,” Hewitt added.
    â€œQuite right,” Hodder nodded. “It was rumoured that he was bringing a married woman back to his rooms. But you know how staff gossip, nor was it any of my business what the man does.”
    â€œTell us of his appearance,” Hewitt pressed.
    â€œHe was tall with dark hair. A bit of grey . He often appeared unshaven on his cheeks, not a beard, no, just untidy. He had a thick moustache. He always wore a bowler hat with a playing card tucked into the flap. I assume that he’s a bit of a gambler.”
    I passed a glance a Hewitt but he remained fixated upon the manager.
    â€œYour recollection of the man is quite remarkable,” Hewitt admitted
    â€œI possess no remarkable powers of observation or deduction,” affirmed Hodder. “The final time Potts was here, he was most unruly and I banned him from ever returning. The excitement over Jacks caused me to forget about the indecent with Potts.”
    â€œWhat transpired?”
    â€œHe stumbled in to the foyer about seven o’clock in the evening. He